Sloppy living

Laziness is a sin…and I have sinned 10 fold, 10 fold, 10 fold! But forgive me you must or I will guilt the Christian in you. Forgive me seven times seven, and even after that don’t stop forgiving. I know you took your calculator out to see if there’s a possibility of even lasting that long. If your heart is true, you will be strong and you’ll be able to stand the rain, for this laziness is a curse which you’ll have to bear too. I wish I could say otherwise but when it rains, it pours, but the rain doesn’t stay forever. These aren’t the Tropics, so you are safe and when it does rain, well I have an umbrella. Just pray there’s no wind and we are able to hold onto it. I mean I will hold onto it but, this life is unpredictable and you might have to hold the umbrella when my will lacks.

Forgive me for I have sinned. I am lazy and that’s a sin. You gently open your arms to me and I dance around and tease before I surrender to your embrace. Like MJ said; “It’s just human nature.” You can’t ask me why, although I have a million and one answers. Most of these are silly and shouldn’t have any bearing on this life that chose me but again, I ask that you to forgive me. My laziness is a defense mechanism, it saves us both from hurt. This laziness, this sin will have me ‘let things slide’ and then have me pining and wishing I could, more like I should have. And what is left is just regret.

My laziness is my worst sin. Regret has setup camp in my life and has stopped knocking at the door. No she walks in when she feels like it, and makes herself comfortable. I can’t say no, nor can I kick her out because she’s just so beautiful. I hate to see her here but I hate to see her leave as well. I know better but I’m addicted to the pain she causes. Is it the pain I crave or the healing afterwards that keeps me warm. All i know is I’ve become so accustomed to her pain that I feel cold without it. Regret is my white shadow.

My pain is my regret. My regret is born out of my laziness. My laziness is my sin. Like a fiddle in the hands of its musician, I sing the melody I’m made to, controlled by my sin. Remember it rains,but the storm clouds don’t have the strength to stick-it out forever. Even God’s wrath didn’t last longer than 40 days and nights. There is a calm at the end of it all. There is forgiveness.

Burnt

Forgive me I beg you, for I have sinned! I did not will it so and it is not the way this life will go. I will not let my sin define my life or yours. I will gladly run into that embrace, heck I will pull you towards me. Tis a crazy world out here and you are crazier for opening your arms to me. Craziness is a beautiful drug..

I found fear in my laziness. My laziness is my sin, BUT I shall not sin no more…!

Pint Sized

I drink wine and watch, series and all of sudden I can understand life and the world better!

Whoever said alcohol isn’t the solution to life’s problems clearly drank too much. Simply said, alcohol is an awesomely wonderful solution to so many problems. The thing you need to remember though is how much you need to take in for each problem presented to you.

I mean as I was into my third sip, I knew I was going to end up writing because well a little alcohol does help remove mental blocks. Hence why you get bold and a bit more creative after a couple of drinks. Note I said a couple, but I’m sure you already knew that. Unless you always miss that step because you’re a ‘see what’s at the bottom’ of the bottle type of person.

Anyway so back to me, it is my piece after all although I hardly write about myself… Right, so third sip and what not. It dawned on me that I’m most probably going to end writing some emo stuff because I do that, distress over some alcohol and my somewhat talent of being able to put words on paper. Not really a talent, I mean everyone who can read and write can do this exact thing. But the emo stuff is what I like to write about and it’s always difficult to write about my emo self especially when I’m going through something, hence the need to start writing before the second glass is done, for after that, I relinquish all my control over how dark my pieces can become. Thank whatever little sense exists within me that the dark ends in grey areas. Kind of like an in between state of mind. Plus, I need to write this because even though alcohol does help remove mental blocks, I’m still able to suppress some of my creativity thanks to a little design flaw in all human beings called laziness, so other pieces will remain pending.

There are different levels to the alcohol game and how it helps each situation. It’s a difficult game too. Walk to any pub and you’ll see the different players and also the complexity of sticking to your own game. Today I belong to the controllers or the sippers if you may.

This is usually a dreary group especially if it’s a full on drinking day. We don’t like the sippers. For one, they remember and usually document everything that happens. And we dislike quitters. Now the thing about this faction of society is that they never get as much credit as they deserve. Have you ever thought of how much stick they get for being the sober drinkers? I always get that when I’m selling out and trying to have a sober day. This is when that peer pressure we learnt about is at its peak and it’s not only the people around you trying to woe you back into the belly of the barrel, oh no no, there’s also the sweet kiss of the hop edging you closer to the third drink and point of no return.

Hands up if you’ve ever met with friends for a drink or two and it actually stopped at two drinks! Now hands down if those occasions ended because you were broke or had somewhere you really had to be, like home because your mum was going to kill you for drinking on a Tuesday. I mean you can’t do that (rolls eyes)! Don’t worry I’m not judging you, there is actually some honour among thieves, more like alkies. Point is trying to stop at two drinks or just a drink is difficult because well airlock isn’t something you want to be comfortable with and the sheer fact of losing out on the festivities. The non-drinkers will jump right in here and claim you don’t need to drink to have fun, which is true but do you know how many marriages have come out of those drinking moments. And also it’s never fun to be the only completely sober one when everyone else is on some kind of level. The conversation just isn’t the same.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for alcoholism, never. Know your limits and your worth!

The band of one or two drinks, well call them the ‘Blue Mooners’ yes. The Blue Mooners are the SI unit for all drinkers. Remember how alcohol and how much you consume determines if you can solve your problems, well that is true. Think of it this way, rational thought and perception is lost after three drinks, I know the SI unit is two but our tolerance levels are different so I’ll peg it at three. Or if you’re on the side of the law, then think of the limit as you passing a breathalyser. That’s when rational choices and more focused thinking is still a part of your cognition. After that, well you become prey for the hunter.

Now you can always tell the severity of a problem with how much a certain person drinks and who wants to deal with that problem on that day. That’s if well they not drinking for fun. Weirdly enough there is a time when certain problems will actually stop you from drinking and not just your own free will. Whaaaaaaaat? You got to be kidding me. Yes, and no, lol. If you’ve never thought of a problem that it stops you from drinking, then you aren’t ready to deal with it at that time.

Simple rules of solving problems with alcohol, there is a fine line between a hit and a miss. Being a hero and being a villain. Long live the Blue Mooners, no one truly appreciates your plight in this world and yet you exist as a moral compass for the bitter sweet nectar in every bottle.

Find the true north to your compass before you delve into the depths of a bottle for its hidden paths will lead the adventurer astray and you’ll have one more problem to add to the list.

Oh by the way, as I finish this, the second glass hasn’t finished yet.

Remember opinions are like farts, hope you enjoy the smell of mine 😊Pint

All in the season

Time change, daylight saving if you want to be bourgie about it. Even though this happened at the beginning of April, it’s only catching up with me now. Well better late than never I guess.

So, time change, when certain countries gain or lose an hour depending on where it is you stay yes. For Africa and Africans this is a rarish or not so common occurrence, and I say this only because central Africans aren’t affected so we couldn’t care less (rolls eyes). So, unless you have the privilege of being born in a country on the outskirts of insanity like Namibia, you get an extra hour from the second month of autumn all through winter. Now look at me sounding clever, haha I did put on my thinking cap today. Yaaay 10points for Gryffindor. 😊

Anyway, this is the first time since 2011 that time change hasn’t had a major impact on my life apart from the many relatives I have littered all over the globe and you must consider new sleeping patterns before calling them. So, seeing all my friends in Namibia complain of time change, although most were rejoicing because well an extra hour of sleep and this isn’t the season to be complaining. I have major time change fomo lol. But I realised that time change was real when I had to change my fantasy team and the deadline was way close than before. Thank my lucky stars I was able to make changes in time but it wasn’t the best of game weeks sigh. Seem to be losing steam and I haven’t even played my triple captain or wildcard yet. Yea I’m slacking.

Back to change in the seasons and time, I think the only seasons we experience in Africa are rainy season and not rainy season (dry season), okay maybe and winter but that’s still dry season. Like none notices or pays attention to autumn because it’s like one day it’s raining and next day the early chills of winter are in and it’s time to start stocking up on firewood. Wait I guess we do pay attention to the season, it’s a preparatory season. For farmers, it’s time to till the land for the winter crops, wheat and the rest, and for the simpletons, well time to gain weight for “winter is coming”. For some of us teddy bear looking chaps, winter is where we thrive like them thick looking hookers and suddenly everybody stops caring for the summer bodies and the “thick African” fetish prospers.

Exploring the deeper meaning of time change and it dawns on me that there has been a lot of change I’m going through and not just the obvious adult phase which is harder than any jigsaw puzzle I’ve ever had to do. I mean we (and when I say ‘we’ I’m referring to the split personalities I’ve had to adopt to cope with this adulating phase) understand why at the age of 27 (I think she was) Britney Spears had a melt down and shaved her head. I so get it and I don’t blame her at all. I feel as though our families and worse still school never taught us of the dangers of this phase in life. They tried to condition us to be responsible and all but not to live through the heartache and depression, and worst of all, seeing life for the fallacy of awesomeness I is. I blame capitalism, communism, basically anything that isn’t humanistic. Potassium, and my rant is over… Anyway, I understand! I understand why alcohol is important to mental stability, and of course the herb which is only illegal because society deems it so. #4.20! I also understand the reason why I’ve always have a cave that I retreat to.

So where did all this ‘understanding’ stem from? Potassium, grab a box of popcorn and grab a good drink. So, I’m Zimbo and the past 5 ½ years of the last 6 years, I’ve been living as a foreigner and was only Zimbo during the holidays. I tried to run away from being Zimbo, well not really, I tried to run away from home because home should be the solitude where you run to when all else has failed. Now when you return home after isolating yourself somehow, you become a square peg trying to fit in a hole. Although that’s what I’ve always been, the level of acceptance was better because I didn’t want to fit in. but now I must fit in and fall in line, well kinda. It’s the adult that needs to be a part of the other adults and not the rebellious youth.

So, what got me all sad about being a square peg. I’ll tell you what, my phone died, wait my tab died a week earlier and is still in ICU. Anyway, my phone died and I just got tired of it then wiped it clean which is great and all because like there were crazy apps eating my phone from the inside, so it’s for the best. Well the downside is after downloading WhatsApp again, I couldn’t get my old Nam number because well the Nam line must’ve been blocked. Why is it such a problem, well now I have to use my Zim number and that means I can’t be special with the special foreign number. Basically, all my attachment to Nam is fading and my façade of a life as a Zimbo not so Zimbo, is dwindling. I’m getting stripped of almost all I had built for the past 5 years. Out with the old and in with the new you might say but like change is hard and it sucks especially when that change is a course you don’t even know. Sigh adulting.

P.S. I think I definitely need a new phone. Hmmmm the S8 is out so I’m sure I would be able to afford an S5 now haha.

Change is inevitable and can be disastrous too, well if you don’t have a comfort zone to help you usher in the change. That’s the bad bit of adulting!

We move on and get it done!

Oh my word, gosh this pen though. How I’ve missed you so. And before this turns into the usual rant about life, shoutout to a young mother who’s subtly responsible for the pen striking this canvas (I can say that because writing is also an art).

Another special shoutout to all the hearts out there, that continue to show ceaseless compassion towards me. And with that I also ask for forgiveness, I to should show such love more visibly.

So I guess all protocol has been observed and now we distress over words and paint some sort of picture of society and life.

We move on and get it done! That’s the motto, that’s the life!

Ever thought what a nomad thinks or feels always moving from one place to another and never really having anywhere to call home. That almost lost feeling you get in a crowded supermarket or church your friend pushes you to go to because you need more deliverance than you’re already getting (side eyes). Not really knowing if the ushers are just being kind because you’re new or they are just overbearingly kind. It doesn’t help ease the lack of belonging.

Anyway back to nomading (yes that is now a term brought to you by the gentle giant, even if it existed before). I am a nomad. Not me as such, but me personified as such because no one really talks about themselves without feeling grief and shame. Ha-ha. So I am a nomad although l have a place I call home but it seems it is my home only when the season is right. Wait isn’t that what being a nomad is, only being attached to a home when the necessary situation fits? Although nomads should have a home, an origin which is more than a birthplace because Jesus was a Nazarene although he was born in Bethlehem, and he too was a nomad, but his home was Nazareth. I guess his earthly belonging. And he had another home, another belonging, for yes we shall roughly quote the Bible, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Don’t worry your atheist soul, I won’t preach further than I need to. So looking at the beginning of John’s gospel and the New Testament, heck new life as we know it, there is Jesus as the Word who dwelled in heaven with the Almighty and was in essence God as well because of course the Holy Trinity, three in one. Anyway, so Jesus the nomad has a home in heaven where he has always been and he makes constant reference to it throughout his life. He therefore isn’t really a nomad but in a way gives hope for the average nomad. How so? Well if we think of our lives as just a journey to a home after life, life after life. There is a home later on out there.

So the traveler, the dusty foot philosopher, that white multipurpose truck that enters the CBD with its muddy rails and shows off the triumph of a very interesting journey. Well the traveler still knows a home, the truck. So if you’re born a nomad, is your birthplace home, or home is where the heart is? Home is where you recharge; home is where you can just let loose and no not just your clothes. Home is where you are accepted, no matter how much of a screw up you are. There might be the few lectures here and there but home is where you belong. Your values, no matter how much you forget or become a prodigal being, home just has a way of showing you a new path that carries the good strong values of old. This is why young people get antsy when they get back from a semester of varsity. You’ve changed and are older but the rules of home haven’t really changed much and even if you’re used to your own freedom which your parents pay for, you can’t just decide to leave the house at midnight.

So again, does the nomad have a belonging that he can return to after Trump has refused him and his cattle entry into the country, for these cattle may be hiding nuclear weapons under their hide. Surely there is that one summer spot, where the first group decided we are going to start moving around and visit different areas. So hopefully fingers and toes crossed, there is a proper place to call home and to love.

Okay, enough gloom, there has to be a positive side to being a nomad. The travelling is fun. You know they say a change of scenery is good for the soul, well there you go. Every season a different location, but it must be boring to be doing summer and spring all year round lol. I mean winter is awesome, even if my arms are reminded of fractures of the past by the cold.

I just realized that Zimbabweans are nomads. I would’ve used refugees but we aren’t really refugees yet although we’re so close that there is a thin line between migrants and refugees, or thick one depending on how your emotions allow you to argue. I bet you, as much as you feel free, not to have someone ask you for your passport or permit, the sense of freedom and joy disappears when you’re driving and get to a road block controlled by the Zimbabwe Revenue Police. Run away I must, strive for some sort of survival I need to! Then this has me thinking do I just love new places and learning new cultures out of pure interest or is there an inherent gene within that screams out, “If you aren’t on the move and learning to adjust to other people’s ways, you will die in the land of your father, holding your flag like a true patriot.”

Remember opinions are like farts and everyone has them. Let’s just hope you smell the stench of mine.

Happy nomading

A Storm’s Cellar

The calm before the storm is what I shall call this mood, this feeling, this bare existence…“The calm before the storm.”

This random joy which should not exist at all, seems to be running rampant like a bunny rabbit high on speed, LSD, X and accompanied by an unimaginable amount of red bull (because red bull gives you wings). Okay I might be exaggerating more than just a little there. Although the core existence of this calmness, this serenity has no basis, it is there surging forward through all the darkness and shattering blinds with zeal. It’s offering hope and courage to the downtrodden, putting a smile on a sinful face; yes that same face that has been teary eyed from the realisation of the damage it has caused. That smile, “All is well.” This is what has been brought about, but from where? How, how is this even possible? Panting heavily as more and more questions fill your head, why? Who sent it? Is it real? Is it really real? Will it last or is it just like the drive of a first timer where the fizz just fizzles out faster than Nicholas Cage in “Gone in 60 seconds.”

Tread carefully, for the warning signs are blurred out and this is clearly a place we’ve never known as comfort. Why you may ask? Well for one we don’t where the peace is coming from, its origin is unknown and that’s the scariest bit. What shall come after it or what comes with it, no one really knows. You know how us, as humans fear what we don’t understand, well this isn’t any different. Instead of sticking to the natural order of a black individual which is, ‘run as far away from the explosion,’ because curiosity is not for you. No you must take off as far as possible, but instead, with open arms you embrace this unknown joy and peace. Haven’t you watched the movies? The black person always dies first, unless it’s Denzel or Idris, or whoever women are crushing on these days. For all you know, this could be ‘the calm before the storm.’

Or what a beautiful storm it could be. The one that brings deafening thunder which sounds as beautiful as any Mozart composition or better yet Beethoven, for he died deaf and hence the loud overtures. The storm comes with lightning shows, making the sky feel no sorrow for being kept away from the stars. Oh the disaster that comes with the storm, yes we love the lightning flashes in the sky, but poor Mother Nature down below, getting struck by each flash as though a slave getting their lashes for not following their master’s orders and having a mind of their own. Oh the lightning is not your only worry, for when the storm takes hold of your neck and squeezes every ounce of breath you have, oh trust me, you will marvel in terror at its awesome destructive capabilities.

The calm before the storm… that will keep on echoing in the back of your head, like that soothing chamber music the white collar folk like to brag about. It is not the calm before, one may say, for we have seen the storm pass through already, having laid waste to fortresses of solitude and safe havens. “We saw violence in that night sky or were it day? We heard the thunder, like the roars of lions after completing the most enormous tactical hunt ever.” There are broken windows and glass all over, like a crystal fountain has just sprung from the ground, but we are repairing it all, we can get over this storm’s devastation. We are moving forward with this new found hope and joy. There is peace here, we survived the weekend’s storm, so let us enjoy and rejoice in this new found joy. Get hyper, go crazy and laugh, laugh like there has never been sorrow around your heart. The storm has passed and left the trees standing tall, although not all of them, but more than we need to survive on. So foolishly we shall dance and welcome this joy, this random joy and happiness, and spread it as far and wide as our voices may reach.

I laugh…and not because I am joining in on this folly, but because I do not trust this feeling one bit. I know better. Happiness does not just appear like it has been conjured up by some unearthly spirit. Do not take this at face value for darkness knows how to creep in without any announcement and it goes about inspiring havoc and throwing all caution to the wind. The wind, ha-ha, that awesome force, we shall get back to you. The storm shall come, so don’t rejoice just yet, instead repair all and build-up stronger defences. I feel it slowly trying to gain momentum and although you may not believe it, just please prepare for it. You don’t understand what comes with it… This is the CALM BEFORE THE STORM!

The Unknown Sky

With the crescent moon hanging a little way off the shoulder of the mountains, and the clouds forge an alliance, as well as waging a war on three different fronts.

Firstly, with the multitude of stars as the earth and clouds conspire against them, for if left alone, like the fears Pharaoh had of the Israelites, they are becoming too many and may rise up against the earth. Kill before the thought manifests within the enemy.

The second battle, with one even more formidable than the stars; the Moon, and although it isn’t in its most glorious splendor, it still poses one of the greatest threats as a simple rally cry could unite the light of the stars in a war that only ever lasts 12 hours and in some places up to 6 months a year. Hmmm, winter’s coming and it’s one hell of a war when it arrives with reinforcements flocking in from different battles every 12 hours and going to fight their own battles still after that allotted 12 hours has elapsed. As if there is no rest as the earth keeps springing these stars from left to right, no from right to left always as it attempts to throw them as far away as possible and see them return no more. The clouds seem not to care though, of day nor of night, thus the 12 hour change just means a new foe to battle and as great as the moon is, a greater, brighter, more powerful opponent comes to the battle ground in the other half of the world, exchanging battle points and tactics with its night’s companions. The Sun stands firm in victory and in defeat, for the clouds truly stand as a villain, to be feared by all as death sure follows its harmful grace.

The third battle and opponent, who needs no invitation to a fight, but has no honour to neither of the sides, comes in a form like no other. It is not light nor can it be seen, but its destruction can be seen. It cannot be touched but can be felt. It can be gentle as fresh falling snow and yet pack the punch of a thousand armies, of which even these can’t amount to its true might. It is as silent as night (only because the cries of the sky’s battle are deafening), and yet can be heard from miles away. The warrior, the knight of valour, the free spirit that comes and goes as it pleases and turns up in different places at the same time, which is just a mere taste of its numerous mythical powers. It is none other than the carrier of whispers, the mighty Wind.

A great number of tales have been told and passed back and forth from generation to generation, and generations shall still sing songs of it. Many a man and creature, young and old, big and small, have tried to search for its origins, but none know of where it ends or where it begins. Man has been able to harness its powers here and there, tried to control it as well, but it is such an unpredictable force. One day it’s your friend and helps you, but in an instant, turns its ugly face and like a woman scorned, destroys whatever hope in life that you ever had. A two-headed coin, with the nurturing love of a mother and the tormented soul of hell’s spawn, who knows nothing but chaos.

“When the mighty carrier of whispers cometh, hold you children close. All shall fall to their knees and bow before it!”

—————–To be continued—————

I lied to me.

Twisted and entangled in a web of deceit, the lies fed to your soul are like a soothing lullaby to an infant woken up by a nightmare. Oh but this bogeyman is not that easy to get rid of, no, this one cannot be conjured up by mere imagination. This one lives and breathes the same fuel infused, poisoned air as you and I. I wish I could say there was only one, then again life is not that easy, and unfortunately you won’t just encounter one in your lifetime. “Oh God our father, cleanse us of our sin. Save us from our inequity and lead us not into the grasps of evil but give us strength to accept your will and fight the darkness that surrounds. Amen”. Divine intervention, believe in it or not, is your most powerful weapon in this battle, for this bogeyman and all other before and after him seem to be cut from the same cloth that has been tainted by some curse of sort.

Why is it I refer to this entity as a man, for Medusa was just as bad with only a glance at her face, beautiful poison. That sweet suicidal death, of which Romeo and Juliet know all too well. They say we must fear most our desires as these are the birthplace of our impending doom. Thinking to myself, what better reference to this than the current craze; ‘Game of Thrones’. And with that a tear drops as the realisation that at least five of your favourite characters have already meet their death #HoldTheDoor. All for what, desire? Be it cruel or gentle natured. Now I’m not saying don’t have desires, no come now that is just inhumane. What I’m saying is be careful of what you desire, let it not lead you astray. Jezebel I see you, and no I like my hair thank you.

Okay we’ve taken a bit of a detour here and I won’t promise this won’t happen again because well c’est la vie, so pack a utility bag as this road can change direction at any moment and soon you might be on the beach in a turtle neck.

So the bogeyman, blaaaaaaaaah, we really need to come up with a new name for this entity because I’m sure nursery rhymes have copyrights on that name. Hmmmm maybe Bill, and although he will contend he didn’t have ‘any relations with that woman’, smirk, yea no I won’t judge. Maybe he actually didn’t and it was Hillary instead who did it, for she sure wears the pants well. Oh on a side note, if you thought I was referring to Mr Cosby, just stop, respect yourself and go watch an episode of ‘Kids Say The Darndest Things’. Then again why would a man doing a children-centred show have drugs on him, “like here kids, here is some candy”. “Oops, sorry Mr and Mrs Montgomery, I thought that was a harmless blue sweet’. No parent would ever accept this apology and we would’ve seen Bill in jail already. And don’t think I haven’t taken the time difference from the supposed sexual assault to the more recent show, but once a candy man, always a candy man. Interpret that how you may. Ha ha.

Alright we’ve come no closer to finding a name, but we can safely rule out Bill yea. We could try Donald and I actually like the name although he trumps on the modern human being’s right to be human, and well isn’t that the American dream, as long as you’re not American. Native Caucasian American. ‘God save the Queen!’ No? Oh what the heck it’s close enough. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Beautiful words indeed that were born out of truth and honour, and before we continue, just take a second to grasp the true meaning of those words. Five, four, three, two, one! Time up and back from that interjection, it is sad that that pledge, those words, and l won’t lie, I am a bit jealous of such a beautiful tradition, but with that said, does the majority believe in those words. Heck does anyone believe in their national anthem apart from it just being a song of belonging, because it’s not just that. It shows the history and future of the country all in one go, but do the lyrics hold any water.

Where is my liberty, where is my freedom, you say this land is littered with the bones of our heroes and the soil quenched by their blood, but is this really what they sacrificed their lives for? Is this the great unification of a free society with equal opportunities for all its children? No, maybe when the great orators were making a claim for our ‘freedom’ and signed that liberating document on whose basis we have set aside a day to celebrate. How dare you? How dare you lie to us as you piss on our liberty and milk the gains of this beautiful land for yourself? You stare at us in the eye and promise us a warm meal and decent new pair of boots and yet you raise taxes and race around to “official” meetings in your imports, fuelled by our blood, sweat and tears.

Twisted and entangled in a web of deceit, the lies fed to your soul are like a soothing lullaby to an infant woken up by a nightmare. Pinch yourself, feel that sting yes? Well this is no nightmare, you’re surely awake and this nonsense, this evil, those lies, well that is reality my dear.

From the moment Adam and Eve took a bite of that apple; Pandora opened that box, and all other religious links to the birth of the lie, we have allowed humanity to consume itself in, a new lie. “Live a lie long enough and it becomes the truth.” But can you really? Can you sustain a lie, long enough for it to become truth? I’ll let you ponder on that and as you do, consider this, lies have to evolve with time because it is harder to keep up with what you said yesterday. Although the thrill and creativity of a lie is fun, that short burst of adrenalin goes and with it, that calm lie you told. Roughly thinking of Tennessee Williams’ ‘A Street Car Named Desire’ and how Blanche’s life was all a farce but yea situations drew her to those extremes. Then again life is all about extremes and this shouldn’t be an excuse no, but it does offer a plausible explanation. So what really is the point of all this? Are we simply crying wolf?

Stuck in a thousand minds I am, yet the light breaks through the shadows and the dawn of truth rises. Man/woman (got to keep the feminists and equalists happy) is a weirdly awesome and intriguing species. And yet we still manage to destroy the fabric of our humanity. You know what? I hate lies, like I purely detest them. More so if 75% of your life, your words and actions, is a lie. There are exhausting. Above all they are disappointing, sigh. I have no idea how you are able to continue lying. It’s as if it comes naturally to you. Then I think psychology and you might just be a pathological liar, which is just sad. Shall we get you medication because honestly, and this is the truth you aren’t used too, we can’t stand your lies and the wicked chain will continue. Well done hey, at least you have some sort of legacy. Slowly but surely we’re managing to screw everything and ourselves over until there’s no virgin mind insight.

Louis McNeice’s ‘A Prayer Before Birth’ becomes more and more relevant as we cry foul for our unborn children. Maybe like Pandu and Provender, you shouldn’t rush to jump out of the womb. This world has almost broken me but maybe you come with new vigour. Hope is all I have for you. Hope for the best but expect the unfortunate worst. Like the liberty and justice the Americans receipt, does it exist? #BlackLivesMatter. Do they really? Or would we rather hold up banners and placards for Harambe and Cecil. I agree against poaching and conservation but do they? Do they really understand the magnitude of global warming, as Southern Africans go deeper into the earth’s crust in search of life sustaining water? How do you standby seeing your winters get colder and hurricane season become more and more devastating and still with a smirk declare there is no global warming, but instead we must build a wall and stop the foreigners from coming to steal our hard earned livelihoods and ‘Profit’. Forget the cheap labour and lack of healthcare, just do it. Then again we foreigners are a silly bunch; just going to settle in other people’s lands, think not of our heartache.

In the end of it all, we will come to the conclusion that it was all just a lie and apologise after, that’s if we haven’t been consumed by all the lies. As I return to the national anthems and of course the ‘pledge’, how much truth still exists there? “One Nation under God.” Funny how a lot of anthems have so much reference to God and religion, “Nkosi sikelel’ iAfrika”, “Mwari ropafadzai nyika yeZimbabwe”, and yet more and more people are moving away from religion and are attacking it. More so religious people are seen almost as a curse. Okay I must admit there are some really terrible cases, ISIS and Boko Haram out of context. And although the Watch Tower folk are some real fine people, please stop knocking at my door now. Anyway back to what’s what, how do you stand and sing about national pride when you don’t believe half of what’s there, unless of course you’re in North Korea then you’re forgiven. Your mind is not your own. Tear drop. Maybe this life is an internet life and I’ll just take a selfie in my uncle’s brother’s second wife’s son’s car and hash tag it “ballin outta control”, “look at the fab life”, “try walk a mile in my shoes before you judge me.” Oh yea you aren’t walking by the way, lucky fish. And before you try hanging me for treason, not all internet lives are false. Truth does exist and is not as rare as dragons.

Before you conclude that this was a rant about America, point of correction, it was. No I’m joking, it really wasn’t. This involves everyone. The bogeyman might have been born of American mythology but there so many different names in all languages. He/she could be Mike, Lance, Jacob (payback the money and I will withdraw my finger from this pen), Mpumi, Bonang, Sally or Yi Ren. They are all spawn from different regions but their legacies are the same.