Chronicles of Fly

I am not really much of a poet. Unlike blogging, poetry requires creativity and the skill of stringing words together. Most poets are good writers, however most writers are not good poets. But now and again when I run out of material, i dabble in the dark art that is poetry. I have to warn you all though, because my poetry comes from a dark and very twisted place in my imagination so you will not find a lot of smiley faces in it. Welcome to WHK  Welcome to whk, the city of dreams The indigenous people call it shelter from winds Home to a few rich and the majority poor Who are confined to a place they will never call home If Namibia was a planet then this would be the core Infested by greedy stubby politicians who hunger for more They come here from all sides of Namibia’s borders For their chance to make it big in the windy corner They are lured because everything is shiny and glittery Only to fall into the clutches of poverty and misery Many a dream has...

  I’m sure most of you are familiar with monsieur’s Alfredo Hengari and Citizen Nahas Angula. Just in case you’re aren’t let me refresh your memory, the former was a PhD fellow in France, he writes a column in the Namibian newspaper with such an elevated level of English that you need a dictionary to read it at times. The latter is the honourable Prime minister of Namibia. These two gentlemen are not seeing eye to eye right now, it reminds of another school yard fight Alfredo Hengari had at the beginning of last year with Jocken Becker, that started when Jocken told Alfredo to write in simple English (He added a few other comments but we don’t have time to ask who threw sand in whose eyes first). The political warfare that followed was cataclysmic. Mr Hengari was at it again in July 2011 when he wrote a piece about our capital Windhoek, that ruffled Robin Tyson’s well groomed feathers (No pun intended). As you can see Alfredo hengari is a young man who is not new to controversy. ...

  With all the talk of potential candidates for the Namibian presidency being hushed and silenced, I thought to myself, would it not be great if I could create my own republic, become its president and choose my own cabinet from my facebook friends and twitter followers. So I let my imagination run wild and the results are below (keep reading). I hereby create the fictional sovereign republic of Namtweepia. Since this republic is a figment of my imagination I hereby pronounce myself president of the Republic of Namtweepia, I promise to uphold the highest office of the land to the best of my abilities, till god say’s otherwise, blah..blah..blah. Did I hear someone say, why me? Are there no elections in Namtweepia? Again, my imagination, my rules! In addition I declare elections an expensive time consuming exercise. The constitution is sacred and shall only be changed to allow me another term or to make me president for life. But do not despair, in true African tradition I am a dicta...

The nation is outraged; the citizens are still reeling in shock. To put it in simple terms people are incensed at the increasing number of passion killings. The story usually reads, boy meets girl, boy charms girl with money/car/jewellery, relationship breaks down, boy catches feelings, picks up weapon proceeds to kill girl and then he kills himself. Usually in that order but situations tend to vary. Namibians are very peaceful people unless of course it’s 3 a.m. at a bar in Eveline Street or an RDP rally in northern Namibia staged in a SWAPO stronghold in both cases things get violent. We are also very reactionary beings, always exaggerating the symptoms and ignoring the disease, things such as TIPEEG are indications of the tendency of Namibians to hit the panic buttons way too early. The panic buttons have been flashing towards the re-introduction of the death penalty as a measure to deter men from killing women. However protection of life is entrenched in our constitution, mea...

Note: Unlike some of the barely believable fairy tales that I usually over exaggerate for dramatic effect, the following events actually happened. All of it is real and factual; the witnesses are all alive to validate my account of this particular escapade. Before I start telling this particularly humorous story, there are two things you should know about. The first is the TGV, referred to in French as “train a grande vittesse” which loosely translated to English means high velocity train. It is quite a marvel of French engineering; it’s basically a high speed passenger train that has quite comfortable first class seats. It is the world’s third fastest passenger train with a top speed of 570 km/h and an average cruising speed of 270 km/h. So to put that in perspective, you will need to somehow put together a Volkswagen Golf 6 GTI and a Volkswagen Golf R32 just to catch up with it at full tilt, so as you can imagine the TGV is one freakishly fast piece of Metal. You can Google it...

That green stuff is springbok urine I have seen a lot of scary things in my life, Like rebbeca black's music video for that hideous excuse of noise she calls Friday, Pendukeni iithana's swapo colored handbag, Dennis Rodman, Kim Kardshian and Ray J's sex tape (That was really scary), a french woman's moustache and my mother with a leather belt in her hand after I broke one of her new plates when I was 9 years old. But Most of that pales in camparison to the monstrous things I have been seeing recently in the Swakop River while I've been working. The Swakop River is an ephemeral river, which for those that think ephemeral is a Chinese word means that it only flows and has water when it rains. It runs from Central Namibia all the way to the west coast, it reached the Atlantic in 2010 if I am not mistaken. When it rains it is a swamp that reeks of danger and springbok urine, in the dry season it transforms into white quicksand that swallows 4 Wheel drive cars ...

  If there is one thing that humans fear more than death, then it can only be loneliness. How else would you explain why people have pets? Especially cats, I have nothing against those fur balls but I don't trust them, any domestic animal that can kill a snake is dodgy to me. In addition there is that scene in harry potter where the teacher transforms from a cat into her human form, ever since then whenever I'm around cats I have both eyes wide open just in case. There is nothing like being by yourself in the middle of the Namib Naukluft on top of a mountain to make your mind start convincing you that you are lonely (I was up there trying to find network reception in case you were wondering). No single event convinces you that you are lonely quite like heartbreak; you even ignore the existence of your friends. The same friends that helped comfort you and help you drown your sorrows when that creature they advised you not to date breaks your heart. I'm not saying that lone...