Chronicles of Fly

Eating my medal Please Read part 1 if you haven't already  cool-runnings-part-1 , otherwise you're not going to get this story. Those shoes are made for running The 22 nd of June 2013 is one of those days that I will never forget; on that day I got to scratch “ran a half marathon race” off my bucket list. Believe it or not, I ran the 21 km Old Mutual Victory race in an hour and 27 minutes. Which is very slow and three minutes slower than my first 20 km race two weeks earlier and way outside my target time of one hour but the sense of achievement inside of me was unparalleled. I have achieved a lot of things in my life, but finishing that race took more determination and grit than anything I’ve ever tackled. That morning I was nervous, which is unusual but if you saw what I saw then you’d also be nervous. When I turned up to the stadium I was stunned and frightened, the Namibian Police and the Defence Force were out in full force. They had bought a whole mini

When I was younger I had the chance of a lifetime, a French guy in glasses asked me “you want to study, see new places and meet new people?” and of course being the crazy slightly off center geek that I am, I said yes. He might have mentioned that I would have to do it all in French and that it snows, but obviously being the great applier of selective hearing that I am, I didn’t quite pay attention to that.  To my surprise everything was in French and it snowed, next time I will definitely pay attention. But I did do one thing though; in between the hectic classes, labs and field trips, I pulled out a mental piece of paper and made a bucket list. I am not dying, neither am I planning to die, which however does not mean that I cannot die. Eventually either by choice or circumstance I will die, I prefer to be an old man in the arms of his wife surrounded by grandkids when it happens. But it doesn’t quite work like that, but enough of the death talk let’s get to the bucket list. A bu

In keeping with struggle Friday, here's the long and rambling second installment of the education struggle. In my early years I was one of those rambunctious kids, when other kids walked I ran, when they ran I flew. I was an energizer bunny on steroids, which unfortunately meant that someone would get hurt in the carnage that ensued. Usually I would inflict damage on myself, either I’d fall of a tree or fall into a hole, a swimming pool, smash into a pole, get traditionally disciplined for dropping a glass plate (whipped!), run into a wall or a braai (barbeque) stand.   But on rare occasions an innocent bystander would get caught in the crossfire, yes even in childhood there is collateral damage. I started primary school in 1993 in the second term because I loved kindergarten too much; they fed us nice cookies there (I just realised that 1993 was 20 years ago, damn! I am getting old). Kindergarten was the shit! Even though I don’t even remember what it was named. It was

It was like a scene from a movie, you know those black dramas with more issues than Julius Malema. We sat at the dinner table (yes, young black people buy furniture as well) drinking wine and talking nonsensical nonsense as usual. We were having this conversation because I’ve been a douche again, something which is starting to happen way too often. But this time it was different, this time the nonsense made sense. I will always remain steadfast in my belief that when Taylor Swift songs start meaning something in your life then you are screwed. I am screwed, and that’s not a lyric from a Taylor Swift song, it’s an admission of how much trouble I am in. So where was I? Oh yes, the dinner table. So we are sitting there having dinner and constructing meaningful conversation when my good friend Crazy Chrissie has her eureka moment. “I would like to know what this b**** has, how she can just have this hold over you. That no matter what the other girls do, she still has your heart. I

Apartheid: Is Afrikaans, loosely translating to apartness. It the system endorsed by the ruling National Party in South Africa, allowing the minority whites to legally rule the majority blacks using a system based on racial segregation, enforced by violent means if necessary. Apartheid was enforced from 1948 to 1994. Namibia was under British protection after 1918, South Africa was allowed to administer the territory on Britain’s behalf. South Africa proceeded to annex Namibia; Subsequently the Apartheid system was enforced in Namibia as well. Extremely oppressive and cruel; it was heavily opposed by Namibians leading to an armed struggle launched by the South West Africa People Organisation leading to a negotiated withdrawal of South African troops and Independence for Namibia in 1990. I can never claim to have directly felt the consequences of Apartheid; I can never claim to have seen the liberation struggle. I was never chased by South African troops and the only time

It's Friday, thank the lord it is Friday. So in the spirit of happy Friday I will post a series of blogs about my struggle through the Namibian Education system. So as of Today, Friday is Struggle story Friday, enjoy. On the flip side though, this is not going to turn out well for some people, because I will name and shame. Especially those who broke the English language so bad, even the queen would getting her knickers in a knot. There are very few memories from my early childhood that are clear, most are just traces of events with no clear picture of what really happened. I guess I was too young to commit anything to permanent memory; I have no clear memory of what my father looked like, how his voice sounded. I use that as a barometer of time in my memories, I know for certain that everything that I clearly remember from my childhood happened after I turned three years old and after my father died.  One of the most vivid memories from my childhood is clear as daylight