Chronicles of Fly

Not so long ago (literally 40 days ago), I had a weekly column in Namibia's second biggest newspaper.  Every Friday was a happy day, because a brand new edition of the chronicles would be out. Yes, I had a spin off column which shares the same name as my blog (sue me!). There was no hype or over exaggeration, just pure unfiltered creativity. I was allowed to be myself, I earned myself my own niche as a social commentator who told his truth in sarcastic humour (excuse the self-ego rubbing).   So I thought I would reward my ardent followers with a little something-something.  Introducing, (Drum roll please) the return of Januworry.   The month of January or Januworry for most is devious. It is more deceptive than the push up bra and low cut jeans put together. Nothing is what it seems, people be keeping up appearances but undertaking the most drastic cost cutting measures on the sly. Like suddenly switching from Orange Juice to Oros, apparently because they are trying to keep it re

I once knew a girl, but let’s not make it sound like she’s no longer living. I still know her. She’s intense as they come, she has more levels of emotional intensity than a Ferrari engine has gears. I am talking Nollywood movie actress & Tyler Perry’s Medea character rolled into one. She will punch me, but she’s the most dramatic person I’ve ever known beside myself of course. When we first started hanging out, everyone warned us: but we never listened. If you ask her she’ll say that I fell for her. Ask me, and I’ll say that she fell for me. So maybe we were both falling and we caught each other. If that even makes sense. It seemed like a great idea at the time.  Let's call her T, for story telling purposes. She had hormones with entropy higher than a messed up teenager’s room. I am not an expert on teenage girls, but I assume their inconsistent up and down behaviour is down to hormones. T could be smiling and angry at you all at once, like Rupert Grint’s character in th

History, funny word. If you dissect it into two, you get a combination of two words. His and story, meaning "His story". Not "Our story, her story or their story". It is basically the story of him, giving him the chance to tell it as he likes.   No one can dispute it, unless you were there.   But as you will learn in this article, he who survives gets to tell the story: his story. Let's go back, way back. Christopher Columbus sailed from Europe to uncharted unknowns and found America.   His feat is praised in history. What you probably don't know is that Columbus found America by mistake, he was actually looking for a new route to India.   So when he set foot on the first land mass he saw, he did a happy dance because he thought he hit the jackpot. The Native Americans are called Indians, because that is what Columbus thought they were. So just to recap, Columbus "found" a place that was already inhabited while looking for another place (I

Sporting  a Bok Jersey Micheal Kapten's painting of Madiba Now that the dust has settled, let me ask. Where were you on Thursday the 5 th of December when Nelson Mandela died? How did you feel? I felt rather crappy because it marked 12 months since the day I lost my younger brother, but that’s a story for another time. I don’t think anyone was really shocked when Nelson Mandela went to rest, we saw it coming. But still it did not cushion the blow, for once in my life a great man of Africa passed on and I really felt it. My Cousin Alex and I took turns in taking in just what it meant, we spent two days watching Mandela documentaries. Not because we did not know about who he was and what he stood for. But because it was our way of letting go, our way of coming to terms. “A great tree has fallen” as the African saying goes. In the aftermath of the great speech that Barack Obama gave and the booing of Jacob Zuma; questions arose. Although if truth is to be told, those que