Chronicles of Fly

This week is telling stories about funny blunders week, as usual I will expose others while my integrity remains intact. Boys will be boys; in this case the boys (Bafana Bafana) showed why they will never grow up. Between the Captain (shabba’s dreads must have been pulled too tight), the coach, the SAFA president and their Sangoma one would assume there are enough brain cells to go around, but no! The smart guys refused to read the rule book and instead went with the old rules, and it seems no one in south Africa knows how to operate a calculator either *stopping myself from screaming;  idiots!*. Blunder number 2 belongs to the NFA, how you have the balls to lodge a protest when you got beaten fair and square is beyond me. So what if the other guys used a player whose passport looks dodgy, can’t be worse than the springboks who have that Zimbabwean dude who ran over Chrysander Botha like Jonah Lomu did to Mike Cat in RWC 95, what’s his name? *voice in head screams “the Beast”...

Not long ago, the Namibian man was a symbol of pride, he stood for freedom and was a sign that mountains could be shifted and that obstacles that looked insurmountable could be moved. Fast forward to 2011 and even I am ashamed to be a Namibian man, because even if there are a few good men left, the actions of the bad apples reflect badly on all men. The Namibian Man was the Alpha lion of the pride, the faithful head of the house. Fast forward to 2011 and he is nothing but a skirt chasing dog in a pair of trousers who humps anything in a skirt under the age of 25, while lying through his teeth to his faithful who he abuses as he likes. He no longer provides a good example to his children; he is forever drunk and has no sympathy in his heart, which explains why he would beat a mother in front of her children. Again I am ashamed because a few bad apples ruins the whole bunch.  The Namibian Man was not immune to mistakes, but he always owned up to them. Fast forward to 2011...

Nameless the confused dog Steve Jobs was perhaps the greatest innovator our generation will see for a while (that’s if you exclude Julius malema for political reasons), but that trick that he did to knock out BBM and its systems from the grave was his greatest yet.   I remember when I was young and went to the village for the holidays the kids there always looked and treated me differently. Basically I was an outsider/foreigner but once they got the ball to me on the dusty field all that changed, we got along after that. When I went back to town, my friends all said that I was different (probably because village soccer made faster than them), they would then proceed to treat me like a foreigner because I was suddenly speaking hard core otshikwambi and my ongwedivarish, which is Oshiwambo slang from the north = [English (American accent)+ Oshiwambo (Kwambi +ndonga+ kwanyama) +broken afrikaans ]was slightly diluted. But I still looked the same and behaved myself as usual. ...

I met her online, I was lonely and she was bored, one click and the conversation that would start a romance had ignited. Chemistry like ours can’t be made in the lab, it’s one of those natural unknown unknowns, and the reaction requires no activation it sparks by itself. You could call her a breath of fresh air but that still would not fully describe her, she’s like WOW! yes! The only word I can think of to do her justice is WOW!. I swore to stay aware from cyber relationships but how do you turn away the person who helped you pick up the pieces? It’s funny how when god sends us angels we are too busy being sad, living in the past and facebooking about our ex’s that we look straight past them, lucky for me I had my angels spotting radar working correctly.   She does not mind my tasteless jokes about the gap in her teeth; she is cool with me joking about her being able to lie through her teeth. She gives great advice, she’s like a well of infinite wisdom, wise beyond her y...

As Kanibal says on quido's hit song Soweto "never forget where you come from, remember you can always go home". So the time had arrived for a chapter to close so that a brand new one can be written, because as one door closes another door of opportunity opens (I can be all philosophocal too, not just sarcastic). I spent my last three weeks in Nancy residing my my Indian friend Ashish Malik (we had some great nights, New Year ’ s in Paris and others). I picked up a liking for Indian vegeterian dishes, who ever knew that veggies could be so tasty. Saying goodbye was not easy, my coach was not pleased to lose my services the season we get promoted to a league where my speed can actualy be useful, tears were shed (guys cry too you know, we just don't do theatrical stuff like the girls). But all in all I had a great time in Nancy and I will miss the people (Cindy tu me manque) and the ambiance.  Bored at the airport So after spending the whole week lightening...

I know that mother’s day has passed already but to me it's mother's day the whole year . Now this might get a bit confusing as it’s basically half my life story, but bear with me and its going to be a long one. Well I was born in 1986 like most great men of my generation to Beata and Wilhelm. The later would pass on three years later. Now so that none of them can say I’m being unfair by putting one first before the others, we will go in alphabetical order. Mee Beata – “Bettie” Me and Bettie (as only I call her) are bound by the biological connection between mother and son, it’s evident when you find her looking at me with such curiosity, I flash a smile at her and she just beams with happiness (it must be the handsome face). In her eyes I am a treasure, worth all my skinny 68 kg’s in gold. If you ever wondered where I got the kindness and sincerity that some people say I have, then I can confirm that I got it from her. She’s a gentle giant, tall, elegant and ever so g...