Chapter 52

The Mind Swagger Thought

index

People were always telling Thoka that he should eat healthy and exercise on the regular, which he did, when finance permitted.

On this day he is heading to his death, and no good food, or exercised muscle is going to help. He knew this death was coming to him on that day.

So he sent a final text message to his loved ones.

Do not worry about your health of body, look after your mind, exercise it in good thought and the rest will follow.  Entertain no fear, of dictator, of bully, of tomorrow.

The moment before the taxi hit the curb, in that second before, where the hands of time slow down, and the relativity of time comes clear to mind. Thoka smiled in clarity with an empty mind.  All fears erased taking with them the suffering that had defined his life, he journeyed to the other side in style.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 51

Fruits of leaf of Tree

OF MIXED RACE

OF COLOURED

OF GOFFAL

OF AFRICA

OF EUROPE

OF HUMAN

OF EARTH

the sound of turning pages

readers knowing and full of hope

enter into the final chapters

dreams of grace

courage beyond measure

bouncing walk

we rise

we rise!

REBLOGGED FROM: http://coginito.blogspot.com/2014/06/being-honoured-at-brown-velvet-awards.html

Being Honoured at the Brown Velvet Awards

Being Honoured
On 24 May 2014 our Coloured Community in Zimbabwe came together, for the first time in history, to acknowledge and honour its own in a gala evening of joyous celebration titled the Brown Velvet Awards.
Awards were conferred in various categories of outstanding contribution to our people and society in general.
I was privileged to receive the award, in the Groundbreaker category, for having served the course of justice as the first non-White magistrate in this region, then as a Judge in Zimbabwe and South Africa and for having been an expert advisor to three governments in this region, with Botswana and Namibia now enjoying internationally unmatchable Road Crash Compensation systems.
Serving as an expert on Carte Blanche’s live coverage of the Oscar Pistorius Trial of the Century was seen as bringing honour to all of Zimbabwe.
No one can be more greatly honoured than by his or her own in his/her country of birth. It was the most wonderful moment of my life.
I can go on to rest in peace knowing that my life was not wasted, because it made a difference, howsoever small, to other human beings during revolutionary and trying times.
It is the hope of my community and I that our example of NOT being obsessed with difference, be it race, ethnicity, tribe, skin tone, religion or culture, will be followed by all of mankind. 


May the Brown Velvet brand be the message of HOPE for the planet.

The event was organised by Ms Tracey Jane Bell whose conceived the brilliant concept of Brown Velvet.

Chapter 50

 

The Charlie Yellow Rant

 

 

jimm

So finally we reach the half stage of the book, getting closer to the atomic level now.
Thanks for sticking with me.

Charlie Yellow decided as he got to the middle of the book, it was time for a good old rant.
English was not his first language, but he promised he would give it a good old English try.

<RANT 1>
#Political Hacks 101
Hack 15

‘Doing the Same thing and expecting different results.’

When one has a  look at African political leaders they always summed up in the above quote, simply because all African countries governed by liberation movements tend to spiral along a downward trajectory of self destruction. And one is left wondering why.

Well the truth is the leaders are getting the results they want, and the result is self riches beyond measure. Only fools and idiots believe the promises of Leaders. If you feel you are not a fool, feel free to join the idiots.  

As an African what can you do about it? Nothing, and then some more nothing. Remove your self enriching leader and he will be replaced by another self enriching Leader. Why? It is a psycological issue! Not an individual psychology i.e as in the Psychopaths (A person without compassion)who lead, but rather a matter of group psycology. As a group(uneducated) we hand over power, for the smallest price, a plate of food, or simply fear of the shooting sticks.  

Lastly , we have a share group history of abuse, from chiefs, kings, and queens, and colonizers. Suffer continua. Suffer continua.

<RANT 2>
Reality shows?
We have become obsessed by these, even though we know they are in essence a fake reality, cause after all they are just shows. Worse yet, we are becoming obsessed by the stars of these shows. Busy watching the unfolding of someone else life, the question is then who is, who is  living yours.

<RANT 3>
New World Order?
The greatest fear of the modern generation. Simple to answer. A world order is governed by the most power nation on the planet at any given time. i.e in Roman times it would be the Roman world order. So what is the new world order, it is a term created to hide the government of The World order, a term used to miss direct minds in stupid pursuits of Conspiracy. There is no New World Order, there is only a simply World Order, and that order is governed by the most powerful nation.  Used to be the British at one stage, cant say who it is now.

<RANT 4>
Is there a GOD?
Well the best way to explain this would be to use the scientific method, as it is mainly sciences that denys the existence of GOD.
On a quantum level, GOD is the sum of all the sub atomic particles. He can be in two places at once. Next we replace Schrodinger’s cat with God, and find that GOD exist and he does not exist. Pretty powerful of him, don’t you think!

<RANT 5>
Future Predictions!
And I am not talking the kind, like Nostradamus that are rather hind site predictions, I am talking about the direction the world is heading now.

SA. Rand drops to 20 to the dollar.
She is vulgar on stage, crotch grabbing, to pull the fans, but now she has gone too far.
You better belib it, walks out his closet in pink fur.
The African spring, copy cat of the Arabs
When dies a small civil war erupts from the factions.

<RANT 6>
S  M I L E !

Chapter 49

 

The Inconvenient Life of Paul

 

index

For as long as he could remember his life always leaned in a swagger manner on an inconvenient wall. He was born Black in the White Owned country of Rhodesia. You can throw numerous tags at this, like fate , irony , but having the wrong color skin was a serious inconvenience for him.

Years later the unrepentant Rhodesia’s bus turds, lost the war for ownership of the Land to the Bantu immigrants, Paul smiled as finally he had a chance, to do a walking bounce up and off the wall, when the inconvenience stuck again. He was of the Ndebele Tribe and the hands of Land government were in the control of the Shona Tribe.

He quickly packed his bags and headed to the Land of the Queen, hoping to enjoy the benefits of a 2 year working holiday, his right as a subject of the commonwealth. The English let him into their country with smiles and frowns, he proceed to the Home Office, the key holders of the working holiday permit. When the SUN shine brought his attention to a newspaper Headline that simple said. ZIMBABWE WITHDRAWS FROM THE COMMONWEALTH.

Yes sod he thought, you are the God of inconvenience. Paul bought himself a shovel and dug himself a hole to live on the underground. His illegal status in the Land of the queen, importuned him, to the most menial of jobs, washing potatoes and making chips for a harsh African Hating Iranian Boss. He wages plus 40 hours overtime, were only enough to pay rent for a bed sit, with shoddy plumbing, and in door heating with attitude.

The wall of his bed sit, was scribbled with words from previous occupants. Jane Doe’s cousin was here. Jon Doe’s brother was here. Adam -heart shape- Eve.

Paul grabbed a pen scribbled his name, scratched it off and wrote SAUL underneath.

Conclusion
At this point in his inconvenient life, he would never have enough to return home. He smiled and lived the rest of his life as chippy slave, eating left over food, but always ever paying his rent on time.

Notes:
1] Life has a sense of humor
2] When life gives you lemons, be happy life is giving others naught and nothing.
3] When you run out of Good Luck, wait to run of Bad luck.

Chapter 48

The Kong

 

FT3

Extract from the diary of Lionel Richardson 11 years old.

 

Dear Diary

Zunder arrives on a yellow bike, he stops his bike by putting his right Bata shoe on the back tyre. As you can see he is not wearing a t-shirt, so as to show off, his prison drawings.  His smiley green eyes, make our eye contact and he offers us the bicycle, at a bargain price of $2 dollars, a single blue note. We try to bargain with him, even though we don’t have a single copper cent, to our name. He laughs and leaves, callings us, stupid lighties. We laugh back, cause laughter is what gets us through these mean rough streets.

Can you hear the shouting? There must be a fight going on. We follow the sound towards the commotion, hoping to get some of the day’s action. It is Kingston and Brian bartering punches, for the second time this week. The crowd around the waring pair, are all smiles, fights last a few seconds, but the commentary last forever.  The belt is awarded to Kingston, for this bout. We missed the whole build up to the fight, and the fight itself. Cronje, fills us in on everything. When he is finished telling us, the blow by head butt account, we now tell the story, as if we witnessed it for ourselves. Mrs Baxter at number 7, the only women with a phone, in our neighborhood, and her finger trigger ready, on the 99 button, calls the fuzz, but it will be hours till they arrive.

People take their time to move away, from the scene of the crime, and Big Don is trying to stir up another fight. He asks King who else can he hit. King is in his glory. Brian is leaking blood, but no one tends to his wounds, or notices that he is holding brick in his hand. We know how Big Don operates, so we decide to leave. Big Don is going to get another fight today, no matter what, he is going around, the gathered circle and asking who is not scared of who, till even friends like Brian and King end up having to fight.

Brian cracks his missile, landing it fair and square on Dons face, just two seconds shy of minute, of our departure. We missed the action again. Brian loses the battle but not the war. Can you see, now everyone heads in their home direction, they wanted hand to hand combat, of which most in the neighborhood have the skill for. But bricks and bottle mean, even the observers can be hurt. Just last week my friend Rat, was hit with a half filled beer bottle, it took the doctors, 4 hours to scrape out, all the broken glass shards from his leg.

We walk our way, telling each other the story of the fight, over and over again, oral tradition at its finest. When all the noise breaks down into silence, the quite is made whole again, by Sam from number 6, playing his radio at full volume. We appreciate Sam, for most of us, we have no radios and TVs in our semi-detached homes. We move to the rain drain near Sam’s house, to have background music to story. Rain drains serve as public benches in our area.

The police arrive and of course no one knows where the fighters live or stay as we say. Once the blue lights are gone, the streets begin to fill again. We sit at the drain bench till late in the night, when 6 taxis arrive at Mrs Baxter’s house, a revenge call from one of the women who work as white men biters in the nightclubs. We laugh and smile and make our way home.

Chapter 47

The Head Dress understanding

index

I wear my head dress with pride
People stare in sorrow
Pondering upon religious burden
But No
Never that

I believe in no God
For this dress on my head
Is only to hide my embarrassment
Of being an African

My head scarf
My own personal hi-jab
Hiding my face
So that you know me not
As marked in Africa’s
Corruption and Greed holocaust

My poverty is my star of David
My hunger No cure
My ignorance scripted by an X
On the false promises
For the Party
And party they do

Chapter 46

P i n g !

ddf

“I will sing my own praises” his reflection in the mirror shouted to him. He heard it loud and clear, for his ear sense was not cluttered by beeping cellphones, or voices from the television, or pinging microwaves. He lived off grid and was very proud of it.

“I will not die without changing the course of ship, I may be an economy passenger, like the billions of others, but some how I will get my voice to first class lounge. I will be heard. I will be heard. ” The reflection continued to talk.

“How can you define this as free? A big screen mind control machine, the hand held tracker(communicator), 25 year house bond, the death of internet freedom, privacy. How can you call this free?” The light went off and he could not be sure if the sound came from the reflection in the mirror.

Thus our story takes regression to the mean, thinking fast and thinking slow, adding to its own confirmation bias. Nudging the reader to the building blocks, atoms and protons of the story.

And finally asking
Are you free? What does it mean to be free?