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Showing posts from August, 2013

Behind these castle walls

The great modern philosopher Tupac Amaru Shakur left a legacy that lives on long after his departure, Ironic that he only lived 25 years but it seems like he was never gone. Some people still think that he will return from the dead like the Italian Machiavelli. The following is a chorus from an Eminem song in which a verse from Tupac is featured, Christina Aguilera sings the chorus, now isn’t that Ironic? “Everyone thinks I have it all, but it’s so empty living behind these castle walls. These castle walls If I should tumble; if I should fall, would anyone hear me screaming behind these castle walls? There’s no one here at all, behind these castle walls.” Out of all the Eminem songs, this is the one that resonates with me the most. That’s saying a lot because I’ve been listening to Eminem since I was 14. But this song describes a place where I was in May of the year of our lord 2013, a place that I never want to go back to. Relax; it’s not a physical geographic location,

Under the palm tree

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August 2013 I sit in the car, nervous and apprehensive. But very aware that I have to get out and do this. But that does not it make easier, no number of deep breaths is going to get me to move. My palms are sweaty, my skin starts going clammy like a nervous white guy. A part of me wants to reach for the ignition, turn the key and never look back. But the logical and calm part of me convinces the rest of me that if I ever hope to heal and live a normal life, then I need to get out of the fucking car and go pay my little brother a visit.  Still not making any progress, I reach for my earphones and my MP3 player. The sweat covering my fingers makes it hard to turn the volume up; Ed Sheeran’s suicide music would really take the cake of Irony at this moment. I pop a bar of chocolate into my mouth, as it melts and I become lost in its goodness (I am fast turning into a chocoholic), I open the door. Swift as a soldier, the car is locked and I am past the entrance before any part

Dear God

Dear God  A few weeks ago, I went home. I just showed up unexpectedly, the mothers were excited. Glad to have another one of their sons home, home in one piece and not in a box. That Saturday morning was a blessing, I am like a Mbwiti (city kid); My visits home are so sparsely distributed that you could liken them to lunar eclipses. That morning I realized that my mom is the love of my life, I need her. There are some gaps she still needs to fill in, some chapters of my father life that she still hasn’t finished. Heck! I haven’t even given her a grandchild yet, sure she has plenty of them from the others but I guess mine would make everything complete.  No disrespect, but you need to hold your horses. Chill your guava for a couple of years, we are not done yet. We still have unfinished business, but who am I to ask this of you? Well, I am just one of your sons who have unwavering faith in you no matter what happens Sincerely Fly

The lone ponderer of Kaokoland

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Seated on the jagged surface of a carbonate ridge that rises up above the rocky and dry never ending red semi hills of Kaokoland, I am deep in thought. The sharp surface of the rocks digs into my trousers, it bruises my palms almost cutting into them as I use my hands to push myself up and stand to take in the splendour of this amazing landscape. I’ve spent the better part of my twenties ogling over these landscapes while life passes me by; the ridge overlooks the neck of a sprawling ephemeral river fed by meandering streams. The trail of green trees in a semi desert gives away the fact that this river although dry must have water underneath, from which the deep roots of these trees quench their thirst.     The carbonate ridge over looking the dry river with green trees I start pondering; I ask myself how I got here and how I got here so quickly. I hate my job, despised it the day I started, I am too young for this shit. This happens to bald 40 year old men, not me. The th

The long road to Omajete

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The road to hell is paved with good intentions; the road to Omajete however is not paved, it is all gravel and dust. Nightmare to drive at night, it is absolutely frightening. I get scared to imagine what could pop out and surprise me. Why was I on the road to Omajete? Well I am no longer chasing chameleons in the desert, these days I ’ m trying to find droplets of H 2 O underground. This means beneath the earth surface in case anyone was struggling. I ’ ve gone from a job where I had three bosses, who would all say the same thing but manage to do it differently. I know how it ’ s hard to fathom that three people can say the same thing but make it sound so complicated.   My current job is totally off centre. You have one supervisor and you are basically on your own. It ’ s like that scene in deathly hallows part two when Harry Potter walks in, and   tells the gang that that he ’ s looking for something small and easily concealed in the castle that has something to do with Rave