The man
I have been winning so much,
I am beginning to lose sense of reality.
Everyday is a blur,
making money comes as easy as breathing.
I remember when I used to have dreams of owning it all
now it’s just memories relegated into the deep abyss of time.
I am the embodiment of all my dreams.
I did it,
I am the man.
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No cheese
I was hungry. I sent some kid playing on the street to buy me a Kota, except that we don’t call it that here in Gomora, it’s “Sly wat-wat” but we just call it Sly. And it’s 2-3 slices of bread instead of the quarter bread. Inside the sandwich are your usual Kasi champions: Chips, Polony, Archar Special, Cheese, Vienna, Russian, Egg. I gave this kid R20 bucks. A couple of minutes later, he came back with my sly and change. I was worried, why did I have change? I requested him to stay a bit while I searched the contents of this Sly. As I feared no Chesse, no Egg and catastrophically no Russian. Just Chips, Polony, Special & Archar. I told him to keep it and gave him the R8 change as well. It’s your lucky day kid, enjoy! I can’t live life without no Cheese. That’s not what I see when I look in the mirror. At least have some Cheese nigga, damn, that’s the bare minimum. I went to 5th Avenue, Johnbrant, “Ko Chef”, I bought “Dj Black Coffee”. It had Chips, Polony, Special, Cheese, Archar, Russian & Egg. “That’s more like it”, I thought. You have to eat like a real man. Don’t settle for a meal with no cheese.
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Devil woman
I need to stop being so irresistible, these devil women are bewitching me. Weird things are happening, just today I woke up with my foot swollen. It’s heavy and painful and I can’t even explain it to the doctor. I can’t make even sense of it myself. What happened? He asks. “You just woke up and had a painful swollen foot? That doesn’t make sense. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. What really happened?” he continued. Ordinarily penicillin will do, but today he doesn’t know what to prescribe. Devil woman! I detect foul play. God exists and Juju magic is on the other side of the spectrum. All I know is that all this happened hours before her birthday. Coincidence? I don’t think so! What I know is that she’s obsessed. What I know is that she’s crazy. What I know is that this isn’t beneath her. She had access to my belongings for a while and the darks arts are a growing science. The messed up thing about this is that she told me she would, make me suffer, make me wish I’d had never met her. “You’ll be sorry”, she attested. I took her comments lightly, now what do I do? Do I lay charges? Is this a legitimate case? Mr. Policeman please help, this Devil woman is bewitching me.
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Passive aggressors
I don’t waste my time with passive aggressors.
Whatever dawg,
my energy is too valuable.
I won’t defend myself against your slanderous comments.
I wish you all the best.
Godspeed.
I won’t call you out on your passive aggressive behavior.
It’s fine that you take your sweet time responding to my texts and come late to our meetings.
Whatever dawg,
I get it “you’re superior!”
I won’t waste my time lecturing you on how you should treat other people.
Whatever dawg,
Be hypersensitive and incite violence.
It’s your life.
I won’t hold you to your word,
I know you’re slippery as a banana peel.
Whatever dawg,
Words don’t mean anything in either case.
I won’t raise my voice to plead my case.
My silence is audible enough.
I see your underhanded digs,
I see your cracked masks,
I see your repressed shadow,
I see all your insecurities.
I know the truth.
Some people’s self-worth comes from putting others down.
I don’t waste my time with passive aggressors.
Just whatever dawg.
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Poetry and Amelia.
I remember my first poetry competition back in Primary school; Lyndhurst Primary school, Grade 3B, Mrs. Bosman. It was a Sesotho poem about three little birds. We went to this other school and there were other kids from other schools. Man, I was nervous but I had been practicing with Mrs. Bosman and she told us to do what we did at practice, don’t be scared, stand up straight, open your legs, be grounded and affirmed, count to 5, take a deep breath and relax, then perform and then after you can sit, when you’re done you’ll get your certificate. Mrs. Bosman trusted me, she had deep confidence in me. I loved her and her encouragements. I went on the stage and did the best that I could. 3 more learners from my school went and then we were handed our certificates. There were learners who got Diplomas at the time but it wasn’t a lot, it’s difficult to get a Diploma when you are 7 or 8. A Diploma certificate was prestigious. It had a red scroll, big Gold foil and the certificate itself was A2. Gold and Silver certificates were A3 & Bronze certificates were a miserable A4 size. Getting a Diploma certificate was like winning a trophy, in fact it was a trophy – the highest achievement one can attain. A Diploma was way better than a Gold certificate. It was better than a “A”. It was a score of 90% or more. On that day, one learner got a Diploma. He was so good, I won’t lie. Little cute kid with glasses, he was 7 years old, he recited a Afrikaans poem with deadly precision. When he was done the crowd were on their feet cheering and clapping. A lot of the really good poet’s got a Gold certificate, which is a 80% or more but not 90%. I got a 72% score, a silver, it was just like a Gold but the color of the foil was different. And it was the same length as the gold certificate. The Diploma was the biggest certificate of them all when it comes to dimensions and size. The other learners I came with all got Bronze certificates and they were smaller than mine in size. I was the best from my school, Mrs. Bosman was so proud of me. The judges also gave good advice, I heeded one particular comment from the judge I know was meant for me, he even memorized my poem, he said I was too fast, slow down. He also made a remark that motivated me, he said that if I can just work on my speed, I will win a Diploma. I took it to heart and a year later I won my Diploma. I got a 93% score – one of the best in the district and among the very best at school. There was no doubt, I was a future great. A year later and I was in the school choir, one of the youngest chosen, the school choir consisted mostly of Grade 6’s and 7’s. I was one of the few Grade 5 students chosen. With the school choir, we won everything and achieved everything. Winning Diplomas was the norm. Fame was high and I was on TV, a child actor, a superstar, sometimes I missed school to make Ads, I had my own money, bought anything and everything I wanted.
I had achieved everything at Lyndhurst, I needed to branch out. We were already living in Kempton Park. My mother asked if I wanted to finish Primary at Lyndhurst or try something new here in Kempton Park. I thought about it and told her something new, she smiled and started with the administration process, Edleen Primary would be my destination, it was exciting times.
It was poetry season at my new school and this time I wanted to perform the poetry I wrote. I worked hard to make that happen and it was approved. My performance was so good that I got a Double Gold score. A Double Gold was this district’s Diploma; I was now in a new district, Erkuruleni. I was now dominating Kempton Park. One day the school had this speech thing where speakers took center stage, it was round about time the Xenophobic attacks occurred in 2008 at Alexandra township. The school was standing against it and creating awareness. I wrote a speech and I was going to be one of the speakers. It was 2 speakers per class. It was sort of a contest because there were rounds and speakers were eliminated. I represented my class with some girl named Amelia. Me and Amelia beat everyone and then we were pitted against each other in the final round and she won. It was basically a win-win situation for our class. When we met at the final showdown, I had no illusions of winning. She had a superior speech. It was more poetic and emotive. It was the best speech I had ever heard and the delivery was excellent. Amelia had stage presence, her voice commanded attention and she a wonderful stage persona, it was energetic and full of attitude. She was animated but also regal, juxtaposition – you just had to be there. Oh yes, I knew she’d win and when she did, I wasn’t surprised or disappointed. Her speech was so powerful, it talked about uniting Africa. The content was amazing, it was mature and enlightened. It was impactful. Her energy and aura was magnificent. It was her moment, one curated by the stars. She deserved it. She was wonderful. I was happy for her and at least our class won; besides, I beat everyone else and she wasn’t my competition – second place was not bad considering we were in the same team. Amelia’s speech was so great that the whole class united behind it and dramatized it at the year-end school concert. Our class had the best performance that year, it wasn’t even a debate. We were authentic and different. Other classes did the usual which was Dance or staging a play; the problem with that approach is that not everyone gets to participate. With our class everyone participated, we had a threatre production; it was Mr. Van Zyl’s vision. There was music and drums, costumes and Amelias speech. We dramatized her speech beautifully, some students served as Trees, the wind and the leafs. My friends were the happiest trees ever, I was the wind and I made noises and moved around. The energy was so great, so positive, everyone felt important and did their absolute best with the role they had. Amelia was our Goddess and she performed her speech beautifully – this time she had background music and drums serving as aids, she wore a costume, the performance was grand. The whole production was perfect. A big congratulations to Mr. Van Zyl, it was such a great idea, it was inspired and creative – the end result was phenomenal, no one had ever seen something like that before. There was no doubt, our class was the best, we beat every class, again – our performance was the best in the school.
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Senzile
Easily the greatest of all time. Definitely in my top 5. I first heard of her in the 8th grade. One of my niggas had a little something on her, a crush, something mythical, he saw something amazing in her. I was like “okay”, I mean the nigga was confiding in me but I’d still hadn’t seen her. Besides, I didn’t care, I didn’t care about anything. Then grade 8 camp happened and I was with my nigga and he saw her, he lost his mind, he couldn’t take it anymore, this girl was driving him crazy, he asked me to accompany him. “Sure” I responded, I wanted to help. I would play his number 5 in case one of her overzealous friends tried to void the mission, plus there was a lot of traffic, it was rush hour, busy and all the grade 8’s were on one location. I remember she had on a greenish-blueish shirt that had a lot of signatures and messages, I figured that shirt was the result of her last day in Primary. Her hair was braided. He went up to her and said “Hi, can we talk?” she responded, “talk”, he froze like a statue. His confidence was false. I saw her and okay, grade 8 had a lot of options. It was diverse. It had 10 grade 8 classes and these beauties were from everywhere, she was just a drop in the ocean. My nigga couldn’t recover, he looked at me and signaled let’s go. I respected him, at least he did something, the universe will reward him for those actions, it wasn’t the time nor with Senzile, nah, not her, she’s top quality, high value – composure, composure know yourself; You can’t be expedient with her. Then on the 10th grade, I was in the “A” class with Senzile. She started on A and ended on A. I started on “I” and made it to “A” – make incremental progress. I got to understand her energy and aura. But my thoughts were not on girls, my thoughts were on being the U14 soccer coach, I was diligent and professional and I was rewarded. My peers never really interested me. Then 11th grade happened, we were elected as RCLs, it was great, siyabagena, let’s do right things guys, we had a camp, but before camp in the morning, we had to do our RCL stuff, we came in our civilian clothing, other people took this thing serious and bought new clothes for this ocassion, Italian clothes, designer bags, it was us, “God governments best”. I came in with flip-flops, no big deal, I didn’t want to strain myself, I was tired of Toughies, I wanted a break from being constrained. Then I saw Senzile that day and I remembered my niggas voice saying “Eish, Senzile boy”, she was radiating and illuminating, bright, blinding, outstanding, the body was the best. She stole the show like load-shedding, it wasn’t even a contest, she was the light that put Eskom to shame. I was appalled at the schools uniform, it hid a lot of things, to be honest we all looked the same, we wore the same things, brown shoes, brown socks, brown trousers, mustard shirt, brown tie, brown jersey, brown blazer just brown everything, no skirts, we all looked like turds. Undoubtedly Senzile was a 10, my nigga was right, suddenly I understood the hype, he was right. I asked myself which girls I had been taking for granted because they were well hidden by the uniform or because of my ignorance. I started seeing her differently. I looked at my Blackberry and went straight to my BBM, and she was already a contact, one of five people, I kept it small, there’s more quality that way. I congratulated myself, somehow I’d been working unconsciously to get her for a long time. She drove me crazy like Lewis Hamilton with a banging body like Mercedes-Benz. I thought about her so much that I could manifest her in my map, of course within the confines of the school. She was perfect. She was beautiful. She was great. The straight “A” girl, she would always sit in the first row of Physics class. You had to earn your sit, you got on the first row by merit, by working your butt off, by being the best. Just to give you some perspective, I always sat in the third row, not quite the end, but very close. I didn’t like Science, the teacher didn’t have enthusiasm. It wasn’t just in her academics where she ruled. She played in the famous netball team that dominated the district. She played defense. She was like the World Cup winning Goalkeeper, Manuel Neuer (Germany’s greatest goalkeeper of all time), a wall, impenetrable, solid, vacuumed, reinforced. On top of that she was a master at interception, she would pass the ball with accuracy and with great speed, giving the ball to midfield, who would give it to attack and just like that the move was finished. Deadly like a coiled viper! The netball team often dominated the opposition by constant offensive tactics, they had a relentless rigor, but I liked their counter-attacks better because she started them. I fell in love with her. I willed myself to tell her. I was always so nervous. I convinced myself that today I am gonna do it but today became like all the other days. Days became weeks, weeks became months and finally a year. Everyday was the same. On a positive note, I got to know a lot of things about her, my chats with her on BBM were active, I knew her times, her routes and where she chilled. And then one day I thought “enough is enough” I am going to tell her, this time I was dead serious I just needed the tiniest first step to take. I went to Festival Mall that day afterschool, I went to CNA, I wanted to see what books they had. Then I saw the answer in my face. Yellow paper, it was R20, I had R50, so it was perfect. I bought it. A plan crystallized, write a poem for her and buy her a Chocolate. I wrote a poem and tried to incorporate all the things she liked. I bought a chocolate and I had plans of at least giving her a presentation at first break. I failed at first break but convinced myself that I’d do it second break. I failed again. I don’t know what made it so hard. My last chance was after school, at least give her the poem and the chocolate, you already bought it, you want it to melt, or worse, you wanna eat it? No, you can’t eat it, that would be pathetic and sad. Those were my thoughts. I had to quit being a coward. What’s wrong with me? I was anxious and then the final bell rang for afterschool. I looked at her, she was with her friends and I let her be. They walked away. I couldn’t do it, my nerves got the better of me, it was difficult. I gave myself a hard and brutal talk, it needed to be done and then I risked it all. I rushed after her, she was a long way off, she was approaching Kempton Park and I was still in Rhodesfield. I ran to bridge the distance and asked for a couple of minutes with her. Her friends gave us space, I will forever appreciate that action. They made things easier for me. I gave her the poem and the chocolate and we walked. I told her how I felt about her. The energy was the best. I was nervous but everything flowed like a stream of water. She was blushing but interactive. It was a great day but more importantly, I respected myself. Senzile helped steer the trajectory of my life in a positive direction, fear died that day, I became a man, no excuses “no matter what, today she will know how I feel”.
I was talking with a friend of mine about the girls who used to attend school with us, the friend was in the same class with me. He gave me his observations and desetations. To be fair, his list was good. The girls he was talking about were quality. But I looked at his number 1 and I was concerned. I asked “her number 1? Sure she’s hot but number 1? Remember we are talking about the greatest.” I continued. He shifted the question to me and I responded with no hesitations, “Senzile”, his eyes sparkled like a diamond, I was right. He didn’t argue with me, Senzile ticked all the boxes in our value system and more. He said, “You are right. Senzile is the greatest.”. And just like that, abruptly, our conversation was over.
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Long hair again (full circle).
I’ve got long hair again, you know, a symbol of artistic expression. Look man, I’ve always been an artist and I have used dreadlocks as an avenue to express that outlet before. When I was in high school, junior years, I started making the investment, I liked them loose but I had to conform to the schools rules, you know, God governments hand reaches everywhere, you have no other option but to conform. I made it difficult for them, I used to plait wild hairstyles, teachers would ask me “Why don’t you plait the normal way?” I would laugh and shrug it off. I would get called to the Principal’s office often and most times I won. I had creative stories. It was my encounter with authority and the Principal was a great guy, who just wanted you to conform. I mean you are representing the school, like be professional man. I remember one time, things were heated, I knew they would want to assert their authority, so I intercepted it like Busquets, I forged a letter allegedly from my mother that made references that she was a Sangoma and I couldn’t cut off my dreadlocks. All lies, deception, I made it all up. I wanted to test him, his skin color was different to mine, I wanted to confuse him. He responded “But this is not a Sangoma school and you must obey”. I was like okay, fair, I started doing hairstyles that were demeable by their standards. The office started being a dark place for me. It was poisoned and contaminated. Even the office ladies were in it telling me “Why don’t you do the right things”? They had plenty of time to see me in the office. I was always there. I was the class captain, so I helped them with the administration aspects of the job, I was also the U14 soccer coach so I made a lot announcements, I was a regular in the Principal’s office. I didn’t have a problem with Mrs. Ras and Miss. Nkabinde (deputy principals), they were like mothers to me, God bless, it was homely. I remember the office lady was fed up and wanted to show me my mortality, it was a do or die proposition, 3 months before RCL elections. She appealed to me and asked “How are you going to be an RCL with that hair?”, not surprising I was back to my old creative ways, Mohawk deadlock hairstyle, she continued “Just do the right thing”. She wanted the RCL gig for me. That was a magical moment. I stopped and started contemplating things. What are they seeing that I am not? We were too familiar, our interaction was real, it was directly aimed at me and it came with a lot of love. Things would be better for me I thought. I would redefine myself again. It’s an opportunity, I thought. These women are taking care of me, let it happen, yield. The next Monday I was a different man, I cut off my dreadlocks. Difficult decision but it needed to be done. When the office lady saw me for the first time that morning, she lighted up like a Christmas tree and cheered with delight. Everyone else came out and they saw a different man. The looks on their faces were great. It was beautiful. They didn’t say much but they were glad I made the decision. I was too. Things started opening up for me and not surprisingly I became an RCL, it was great, everyone loved me again in the office, I was in heaven. My two friends whom I did the OPI concert with, quit the job after a couple of weeks but it was their problem, I made it abundantly clear with them. Fuck them, let them quit, fools, I am staying here, my life is good. People who never had a “why? “. We have different paths gentlemen, I wish you all the best. I stayed on and fulfilled my tasks and responsibilities. I wanted to serve my peers, it was an honor. My decision to stay on made me more popular in the office, it was my school, but undercover, don’t let them see, subtle dominance, don’t expose yourself. I had Intel on the whole school, the office, the ground people for my soccer, the teachers, the deputies, the principal and the headgirl of course. I even got a certificate for being the “most helpful”, it is by far my best certificate because it came from a real place, it wasn’t about academics, it was “thanks, I appreciate your help”, it was warm, it had a special touch, it was personalized, the teacher (Mr. Pitseng) was filled with gratitude and enthusiasm, I accepted in kind. Mr. Pitseng was great.
I laughed when the whole Question paper saga happened. It was so obvious, everyone involved was a fool, they were expedient, no emotional intelligence whatsoever, they just swallow the marshmallow while the examiner is still in the room. Their headboy was caught, clearly guilty, I laughed, I told everyone that he wasn’t right to lead. It was a PR disaster, tabloids were fed, the fool headboy spoiled things for everyone, the RCLs didn’t have a farewell party, we were all branded a waste because of the actions of one stupid boy. They stripped him off his title and confiscated his green blazer, the chair was disgraced. His picture was taken off at the office. There was no headboy now. Just a headgirl, she’s strong, she’s smart, she can handle this, Miss top of the pyramid, netball top goalscorer, best in the district, the Robert Lewandowski of netball, culture, the Harriet Khoza of the school, The Queen. I was surrounded by a lot of resources and infrastructure, I was friendly with a lot of teacher’s, they liked me, I preferred the older guys to my peers, they were more real and my interactions with them were hearty, the teaching never stopped in the classroom, they taught me about life outside school, I took the role of the active learner and I absorbed everything like a sponge. I was happy, it was great. I loved school.
Things have come back full circle, I have my dreadlocks again and I listened, which made my life better. Thank you to the good people of Rhodesfield Technical High in that period, everyone was great, the teachers, the quality, the office, the grounds men, it was great. I had the best time of my life there, I learned a lot. Mr. Dzumba was incredible! Mr. Dzumba taught me so much about life, it was deep, it was spiritual, some lessons were on the field, he taught me about winning, he was a winner! He taught me about intensity, commitment, apply yourself, have the best people by your side, keep them motivated and allocate yourselves based on your skills and talents. Be analytical, 4-4-2 is the most neutral and balanced system young man, get the best players for these positions and man management from there onwards – classic. I remember our Maths teacher (Mrs. Sebokwane) once advised a handful of us “When you go out into the world, don’t let them change you. You are perfect the way you are”. I know right, such great advice. Mrs. Sebokwane was the ultimate mother figure, I loved her classes even though I was horrible at Maths. Not surprisingly, her netball team was the best in the district. Her girls were competitive, athletic and dominant. They would have undefeated streaks and they had a strong crowd. Every morning after match day, the principal would read out their results on the quad and they would win by huge margins every time, their results always got a reaction from the school, the school was only interested in their results. I loved watching the netball girls play, it was watching greatness play, from defense to attack, they were so swift, so fluid, so calibrated, so fast and lethal – every offense was a goal. I was so proud of the netball girls.
I remember when my Arts & Culture teacher put my poster on display in her class for a group activity task. My classmates were deadweight and didn’t show enthusiasm for the project, so I did it alone. I mastered calligraphy and added a lot of content to my poster. I used sand as my border, I put glue on all sides and I filtered the sand on the sides. I tried to make it as creative as possible and at the same time minimalist and devoid of color. I was put on the wall with the best from other classes. Every morning I saw my poster, I was proud.
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High school tales
I remember when we had to compile a business plan for EMS (Economic Management Science), it was a group activity. I was excited. We sat in a group of 4. In my group was a friend, Roloti and a couple of 2 deadweight guys, Ntokozo and Ayola. They were a couple of bullies. They failed at least 2 times and they were bigger than me and Roloti. Naturally these two deadbeat guys never assisted with the project. Ayola bunked EMS class and Ntokozo while he didn’t bunk did nothing at all. He (Ntokozo) was a trouble maker and was just intent on causing trouble and disturbing the class, he gambled at the back of the class. I did the project with Roloti. We collaborated well together. Roloti’s contribution was excellent and our business plan looked good. But it didn’t look good to me, it lacked that something extra. I was very enthusiastic about the project and I asked Roloti to take it home and complete it. He trusted me and so he obliged me. I perfected the Business Plan and handed it in the next time we went to EMS class. I wrote my name and Roloti’s on the project, it was only fair, the other two guys didn’t do anything, absolute deadweights, they didn’t do anything. Upon submitting the project Ntokozo intercepted me and wanted me to add his name but I refused. I put the the project on the teachers table and went to sit down. He took the project from the table and added his name to the project. I let it happen, it wasn’t in my handwriting. Ayola was still bunking EMS class so he couldn’t add his name. When the results came out we got 96%, the highest of the grade. I was elated. Although totally unfair, Ntokozo also got a 96% passing grade. When we got the results, Ayola was there, he was pissed because he got a 0. His fury was directed at me. I shouldered the responsibility because I did most of the work and chose to omit his and Ntokozo’s names, it was only fair. Ntokozo was lucky he got that 96%. Ayola lacked self-awareness and blamed everyone for his problems. I am not stupid, I am not going to credit you for work you didn’t do. Although he was bigger and intimidating, I was no pussy. He intimidated and threatened me instructing me to tell the teacher that he was in the project too. I did no such thing but I gave him the illusion that I would. I didn’t crack under his sustained threats and empty promises, he was a bully and I didn’t appreciate being bullied and so I outright ignored him. I gave him no target to hit. I was illusive like smoke or like that one girl you want but could never hit. I denied him off my energy – let him do what he must. Fuck you nigga, you can be all up in my face and point fingers but I ain’t intimidated by you! I was always proud I didn’t let him get to me. Bullies thrive on the power you give them. At the end of the term I got 94% for EMS, it was a great term.
When I was in Grade 10 I was inspired to share a message with the whole school for morning assembly. The message was “Dream On”, to aspire to be more. “Dream On” was also a company that I had formed in my head. Not a company exactly but a movement, a promise to myself to never betray my heart. I was always a dreamer and I never wanted to lose that. I wanted a totem to remind me of “Dream On” and who I was everyday. I started being creative and searched for graphic designers who would create a logo for me. I loved music and Kanye West was my absolute hero and so I wanted to incorporate music into the logo. “Dream On” would be like “GOOD music”. I got a really talented graphic designer to create the logo for me. I gave him a picture of me and asked him to create a music logo. Those were bland specifications but he was a creative and enthusiastic. He created a classic logo for me. I loved it, it was perfect. I can’t do what he did, I was impressed. Now that I had a logo, I wanted to create a badge, something to validate me, a totem that I’d wear everyday to remind me to never forget who I was. I went to a internet cafe in Kempton Park with my logo and I told the guy working there my vision. Creating a custom made employee badge would be expensive and it would take time but he liked me, he liked my spirit and energy, we made something happen. He located this plastic badge in his drawer and took out the marketing paper within the badge and then asked for me to send him my logo and so I did. He took this thick paper and printed the logo on it. The printout was small and he cut the logo to fit the badge. Then he inserted the logo in the badge and covered it with transparent plastic. The final product was honestly a dream. It was a perfect badge that would last forever. It was a personalized experience, a favor because he liked my energy, he took his time and went beyond duty. I was so grateful and appreciative. It is literally the best service I’ve ever received in my life. Everything about that experience was custom made. I asked him how much I owed him and he replied R30. I couldn’t believe it. I paid him and put my badge on. I wore that badge EVERYDAY for 2 straight years. The day I shared the “Dream On” message with the school, I had my badge on. It was so great. I talked about dreams, never giving up, Moneeb Josephs & Orlando Pirates. I also prayed for the school. Thank you Mr. Pitseng & Mr. Nienaber for giving me the opportunity. I am eternally grateful.
I remember when I was in grade 8 and I made fun of my friend Christopher for being in the last Grade 8 class “J”. I teased and laughed at him but I was no better, I was second last on “I”. Christopher took it like a man and was silent probably thinking “Fool”. Then the next year when we proceeded to the 9th Grade the “J” class ceased to exist. My class, the “I” class was now the last and Christopher was now in the “D” class. The roles were now switched and he made sure I felt it. He teased and laughed at me. It was a humbling experience. Then a year later we were reunited on the “A” class. It was great. Christopher and I were evenly matched at almost everything. Once we both got 10% on a mathematics examination, it was a freak occurrence, a bad day at the office for both of us, it was funny, sharing that experience with Christopher was special and what was supposed to be a bad day was a good day; we laughed at one another. Also, we beat each other at cross country, I won once and he won once so we decided to call it even – there’s no need for a third race; we were both the best. He was a very good friend of mine.
I remember when I was in Grade 9 and I got a 98% passing grade on my Life Orientation exam, Mr. Faku was impressed. I had a lot to say, I used up more than 10 A4 papers. Next to my 98% was a gold sticker and the comment “very good”. I was elated. My friends were happy for me. At break instead of the usual Chiproll which cost R5 and Allsorts Sweets that also cost R5 – I went all out at the tuck shop, I bought Kota that cost R10, Coca-Cola can that cost R6, Allsort sweets that cost R5 and two Doughnuts that cost R10. It was a special day, I deserved it. I went home feeling great about myself. Still in the same Grade, I remember when me and the gents each contributed R100 for a great chilled Friday afternoon. With that money we were planning on buying KFC buckets, snacks and Drinks (Alcohol) but also flavored carbonated water. I think we were like 10. It was Thabiso, Gift, Lefu, Ben and I can’t remember the rest with precision, I think Roloti and Thomo were there. The plan was simple, let’s get the money in on Thursday and we will buy the KFC early in the morning in Kempton Park – that way we will be the KFC boys at break. We assigned committees and divided the capital. Some gents would be buying snacks and cool drinks, the Alcohol we’ll get after school. Friday came and the gents who were in charge of buying the KFC came in a bit later but it was expected. The principal of the school Mr. Nienaber intercepted the gents as the were headed for class with KFC buckets.
It was clear as day why the gents were late; the KFC, it wasn’t the first time. He stopped them and altered their direction – straight to jail, the detention space. It was a space used for isolation. It had bars and it was cold. The gents were separated with the KFC for until after school. Inside the premises of the school we were anxious. “Where are the gents with our KFC?”. We connected via the internet and the gents told us the bad news that they were in Jail but they managed to buy the KFC and it’s safe for until after school. It was reassuring news but we would be hungry for the whole day. We didn’t make provisions for a disappointment. We chilled together on both breaks showing great solidarity, our time was coming.
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These girls
These girls, they are everywhere! They all want me. I have become a mere possession, a collectors item. Something devoid of feelings and to hang around proudly, boastfully, like I were a Da Vinci classic. Everyday I am propositioned. Everywhere it’s the same, “we love you”, “Marry me”, “We can’t live without you”! The numbers are overwhelmingly against me because I am the one like Jet Li. My competitors can’t fill the gap. Sometimes I get tired of being the best but what can I do? Greatness defines me and women can smell the aroma. They love me, what can I do? Truth be told they are a reflection of me, sometimes it will get creepy and they’ll stalk me but big deal. It’s fine, a little crazy never hurt anyone. Sometimes I put on disguises, I conceil myself like a mask but the whole situation is a fail because I want it like an addict. They validate everything I am, an unstoppable force! Sexual energy is just a lagging instrument like a moving average, a byproduct. These girls concoct plans about landing me in bed. Sending me pictures like “You can totally tear this up”. But I am two steps ahead, I know your motivations, I won’t be biting your bait. Besides, I can’t be tearing up everything. I know animal attraction when I see it. It’s spontaneous, a glare in someone’s eyes. Unexplainable but actionable. A burning desire scorching like a bushveld. These girls, they are everywhere! They can’t get enough of me, they all want me!
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Fuck Sosa
Fuck Sosa,
we do things the right way.
Never fuck anybody who doesn’t have it coming. Never hinder a child’s progress towards becoming.
Numbing,
the consequences of killing a mother and her offspring.
Fuck Sosa,
I am with Tony.
Can’t bare being around niggas who are phony. Niggas who play you like Fifa on Sony,
I’d rather be with Blondie,
with big tits lonely and horny.
Fuck Sosa,
You want war?
Let’s go
like Lee Sedol,
your bullets can’t kill me,
I am Tony Montana,
you are fucking with the best!
Fuck Sosa,
My word and my balls is all I have,
Ambition, focus and a burning desire for immortality,
I put that on my name,
Loyalty and integrity,
We are not the same.
Fuck Sosa
You are going to need pretax soldiers like Gross,
For a boss,
Or risk a loss
Like a coin toss.
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