Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Dear Married Men

I didn’t know how to start this post so I thought starting it with the line ‘Dear Married Men’ would help.
So here goes.

Dear Married Men,

Leave me alone… leave us alone.

Please don’t walk up to me when you see me hanging with my friends, don’t ask for my number. Don’t buy us drinks or wine and dine us and impress everyone I know with your charm and more often than not your flashy black card. 

I don’t want you in my life.

Please stop making promises and selling me a life that does not exist. Stop whispering sweet nothings and talking about the future… like we have one somewhere in between your wife and kids.
In your head is there a twilight zone where both can exist and live together in unity for the love of you? The arrogance of it all annoys me the most.

What do you think will happen when both parties find out what your deceitful game plan is? When you look deep in the eyes of your children everyday, what goes through your mind? As you sit there being served your daily meal and type furiously on your smart phone exchanging I love you and I miss you texts with someone who imagines building a world with you; what is the thought process?

When the juicy lies slip through your lips… how do you feel? Is there an ounce of guilt or is the guilt the actual pleasure?

What makes you think that the world owes you so much, that you deserve more than one woman in your life? The vile nature of your actions does not just affect your wife and your mistress, but your children. 

One day they will find out who you really are… can you handle that? Can you handle the day your daughter is also some greedy man’s mistress?  A man who bathes her wildest fantasies in sweet smelling bath of lies?

What happens when your child becomes the mistress? The exchange… the fantasy, she is less than human, but just slightly more than a piece of property? He can and will leave her at the drop of a hat because she is not important… she is a toy. His family like yours now is the priority. She is nothing, replaceable because, there are more girls about town that are ready, when he discards her.

What happens to your daughter when he is tired of sleeping with her and lying to her. And what if your daughter is his wife? Lied to everyday…brought diseases and other questionable things? Your daughter, the one that these girls laugh at saying  “I have had her man… look at her… what a hot mess.”

Is that what you want married guy? Do you realise your actions have a ripple effect?   

And what of the children that you make on the side? What do they become? Will you add them to your family or will you pretend that they never existed to begin with? Are they not your blood too? Will you treat them with love and support? Or will you just play daddy by sending a couple of thousands when it suits you or when the law comes knocking at your door? 

Tell me married man, is it all worth it? Chasing girls and living a double life? What lessons are you teaching your sons? What are you telling your daughters about how men should treat them? 

Dear Married Men 

Leave us alone...


Lied to and misled.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A Letter To You

The city has become so empty, the streets are quiet and the conversations mundane, I want to hear you, I want to feel you and I wish I could silence the screaming. My words have lost themselves in the cracks of my heaving chest I am lost here in this space a pointless city that has become an island far away from you.

I sit here wallowing at the bottom of wine bottles seeking solace in the drunken haze and stupor I feel, somehow the intoxication of it all numbs the heart and that heaving chest is nothing more than a buzzing annoyance.

In my despair I spin around in a web of schizophrenic confusion, longing and begging and sending messenger pigeons with every word that comes to mind…. Besides living in a drunken peasants palace, sleep stalks me, I find that at times mornings do not exist to me, the day can come and night may fall and in my slumber I may not realize…. I have found that I cannot realize or recognize myself.

Just the mere idea or whisper of your love send me into a deep fold that I am used to, the same that I live to ignore. It seems to love you I have to choose between living or dying and the blur between the two is so great that I feel I may have died even before I had met you.

I know my words mean nothing to you they are as important as the floating leaves in an autumn wind, but just the thought of me writing to someone I cherish so deeply brings me comfort for I am afraid that I may have lost myself deep in my emotions and my mental stability possibly may not return to its former glory.

I hold so much of you in me that, the thought of me never loving you becomes an impossibility. It seems living is not living without the anticipation of your embrace. I have become a graceful mess dead amongst the living laden with anger and ready to leave, the people upstairs tell me stories of how I should get better, get even, but the entire city has died to me

Monday, December 13, 2010


This one’s for you

Sitting outside dreaming of a better day, all I smell is your breath on me. Last night. What happened last night? The stench of fermented grapes still on my tongue, I remember vaguely, I see pictures of sensual sexuality. Our bodies twisted into each other, my head a hazy drunk, but my heart swimming in fear. We move around I feel you lips in the dark, your soft caramel skin against mine and I touch your face. Deeper and deeper I sink into you and your presence once again make me feel safe… I sleep

When morning awakes I remember the tragedy, I see in my minds eye, your freckled face towered over me, I see my head hitting the floor and my chest feels like it has been ripped out with the kicks I receive from you… my mouth is bleeding, but mercy is not a word you understand. I bleed, I cry… you carry on.

I love the smell of your sweat and the way the sun shines on your almost see through skin, its like a veil on your beauty and makes the mystery of you even more elusive. Your towering figure and insight builds a world I want to live in. Your words are everything and I receive them with love and an open heart. You move around the room and my heart dances.

My mind reminds me of the time you shared your infidelities, how you use to tell me of every harlot you touched and how they were better than me. How I cried and you intensified your hatred. I remember how you told me I was nothing but a common whore.

I lived past it, I forgave you…

Today, you knock on my door and I see a gentler you, towering over me. I love the way you smell, the way your oval eyes dart around when you talk. You touch me… it feels natural; ok in fact, it feels like I never left… you kiss me and I love it. You hold me and I want more. Time passes … visions of love making, jawbreaking… you grow inside me.

You are my addiction

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

A New Day

Disclaimer: please note that this is a work of fiction and any names that may or may not sound familiar have not been adapted from real live people. Please note that the events in this story were not inspired by any experiences that friends may or may not have gone through. Therefore whatever you read here the Author will not be held responsible for your fucked up brain and assumptions.... Ps. stop smokin' that weed fool

Olwethu walked into the doctors office nervous as hell, she wondered what would happen is she got the wrong result… she shunned the thought and walk straight through. She was an hour early and decided to check out some of the magazines filled with grossly vain celebrities, she read about their lives and their babies and all the hallabaloo.

Olwethu had put off visiting DR Ambromavichi for at least two months now, she was sure there was nothing really wrong with her, after all she was stressed out and she had a hormonal imbalance, her problems could be explained from that. She kept herself busy, but her heart was rather restless, she kept shrugging off the feeling of anxiety and played around with her mobile phone. She looked at the ladies at the counter and realized that besides her they were the only black people at the doctor’s rooms. She checked the clock and time seemed to be slowing down and in the distance she could hear a baby screaming. She picked up another magazine and dozed off on the chair.

She woke up to DR Abromavichi tapping her shoulder. “Miss Themba, Miss Themba - come with me.” Said the doctor. Olwethu rubbed her eyes and walked into the doctor’s office, she looked around and the office looked like the same old stuffy room with pics of bones and body parts. She sat down, put her bag on the chair beside her and began to explain her symptoms to the doctor. As she spoke DR Abromavichi scribbled on a piece of paper. Olwethu explained that she had a hormonal imbalance and because of that in her opinion is why her periods had been missing for the past three months. She also informed her doctor that she had noticed some spotting for the past couple of months. Dr Ambromavichi just nodded and motioned for her to lye on the examination bed, the doctor felt around looked worried and asked if Olwethu was seeing anyone. “No not since three months ago.” Answered Olwethu “Should I be worried?” “No, no, we just need to take a pee test.”

Olwethu got dressed and walked towards the bathroom, to pee in the cup… still a part of her told her to worry and she decided that worrying might not be worth it, I mean she had not done anything that needed her to worry right…

She walked into the doctors office with her pee cup and as soon as DR Abromavichi looked at the cup she commented that the urine had blood in it which was a sure sign of infection, the moment she heard the word infection she though of her recent ex Shadrack and then brushed it off. DR Abromavichi, took out a pregnancy test stick and placed in the urine. Se walked back to her desk and scribbled a prescription for Olwethu. Olwethu was in more than a hurry to rush out of that office and get rid of whatever infection and move on with her life. As if DR Abromavich could read her mind she said: “Wait just a second we need to find out what the test says.” Olwethu’s heart skipped at least five beats, she stood waiting for the result and ready to run. Dr Abromavichi turned red in the face, as if she knew what impact the results would have on Olwethu’s life. “The test is positive Miss Themba, you are pregnant.” Olwethu fell back into her seat, and she began to vomit.


Olwethu met Shadrack through her mentor, she had been working for an estate agency owned by a Jewish woman named Violet and quiet frankly Violet was sick and tired of Olwethu’s ever single state. Violet kept nagging Olwethu that she knew this nice young black man who works at a call centre where her daughter is the manager and she thinks that him and Olwethu would get along very well. Olwethu was also quiet lonely and tired of her own nagging, so she agreed to meet the young man.

Olwethu met Shadrack and in her opinion he was ok to pass time with. The friendship grew from sms’s every now and again to phone calls every day, she began to fall under his spell, he played everything down, to her Shadrack was the guy she really wanted to help. He told her he had never had the best life and he was grounded and down to earth. Slowly she began to open up to him. He seemed shy and reserved, she believed that beneath all that mystery there was probably a young boy who had been abused… she wanted to help him… she made the mistake of taking a project home. She had told herself that she would change his life once and for all.

There was something about Shadrack, he was good looking and a relatively good height, but oddly there was something that she felt like she could not trust although it felt like he was pouring his heart out to her, her heart was never at rest, but still she decided that things will sort themselves out and she swore that God would not put her there if he didn’t want her there.

The first night they spent together, she had cooked dinner, dished out her best wine and wore the dress she had been saving for that special occasion. He came by looking casual and unphased, an air of sexy arrogance around him and as late as a slug. She welcomed him into her not so humble home, decorated in collectors art and bhudda statues her walls were draped in photographs by amazing photographers and her tables held down by the best authors know to man. The surprise in Shadracks face told a story of a man expecting much less, from a woman who zips around town in an Uno and whose idea of getting her hair done is getting a shave. He immediately made himself at home.

As the night carried on and the wine bottles emptied their inhibitions began to run wild, the lights began to blur and the conversation more amusing. It seemed clothes were too heavy and their hearts begged that caution be tossed to directionless winds. They felt each others lips interlocked in a tender wrestle at an attempt to satisfy their deep seated desires and hopefully heal the loneliness that tortured Olwethu. He touched her bare breasts and her spine felt chills from top to bottom, she could feel him breathing hard. She turned around because she wanted to feel him behind her. He blindfolded her and kissed every part of her body gently. Her desire grew, she felt as though if she moved she would shatter into a million little pieces… in her blind state she moved closer to him, then she felt the man that he was, hard and strong standing like a warrior. She wanted to touch it, taste it. Then as she extended her hand to touch, Shadrack jumped, pushed her away. “Please don’t touch it.” He said. She stood there dumbfounded and confused. As she was about to speak their lips met once again, her knees boggled. She let him lay her on the bed gently, he reached for the light switch and there in there dark of night, their desires were met with a passionate in and out and as if awoken from a dream Olwethu realized that the had given into the depths of passion and she never asked the question on protection. She lay there and watched him huff and puff as the interest left her and a turning in her stomach became stronger. And as it would be according to Shadarck, she pushed him away in anger. Confused he stood up, she switched on the lights and as she had feared, they had let passion take over reasoning. Panick! Olwethu panicked, Shadrack was not phased. He told her he wanted a child, she resented him for his statement.


Olwethu sat in her Uno, holding her cellphone and panicking, she wanted to cry, drive her car into the wall, just hurt herself in general. “But how?” She thought. I took the emergency pill and to top it off we used protection after that night. She rang the Marie Stopes family planning clinic, then dropped the phone. She deliberated for a minute. The tears were not coming.

She decided to drive there, she got to the clinic still hazy from shock, filled in a form and then was taken to a room. She lay on an examination bed and they lifted up her dress, spread a cold gel on her lower tummy… the nurse looked at her and said “Come back tomorrow, the doctor will be here tomorrow. She went to the mall so she could find a pharmacy and get her prescription filled. On her way there she ran into Rizla an old Varsity friend chilling at a restaurant having a midday drink, she decided to join him and one midday drink turned into a drunken afternoon, still she did not believe what was happening to her body.

She went home, a mess of drunkenness, difficulty, driving, walking, difficulty being alive, she flopped on her couch… dying to turn back time, longing to fast forward time. There was a guilty pressure, a sense of loss… again she looked through her phone stared and Shadracks number and deleted it.


Shadrack refused to meet Olwethus friends and family… he claimed that they would judge him. This worried Olwethu and her two sisters Niza and Liza, the twins. They felt that he was either no good or up to something. Little did they know that they would find Shadrack raising the roof in gays clubs all over the city.

Shadrack actually never spoke about anything except for how much he hated this or that celebrity, he watched too much TV and used the wrong words in sentences. His greatest attempt at writing anything was writing smut on a gossip column and the more Olwethu got to know him she realized what a sad and sick person he was. In fact she resented him, the more she saw him the more she wanted him dead. She could not stand his ignorance, laziness and plain out stupidity. She started to feel like she was living with a malfunctioning robot. To her Shadrack became more despicable every time she looked at him and when she left him he proved how despicable he was and how much mud he could actually flick at her. The thought of him sent her to toilet and she would vomit till she choked from lack of air. Every bit of her hated him.


Olwethu got to the clinic the next day, she was 30 minutes early… she sat and waited, her heart beating so hard she thought her chest would swell from the impact. The nurses arrived, opened the doors and offered her coffee, she was too shaken to drink anything. One of the nurses took her into a room and took her blood samples whilst having a light conversation.

After they established that all her bloods were normal and the blood pressure was just right, the nurse handed her three pills and said, put these under your tongue and just relax. Olwethu was led to another room that was filled with beds and blankets and magazines and all sorts of pretty things. The nurse handed her a sanitary towel and said u will need this. “Will it be painful?” asked Olwethu. The Nurse laughed.

Olwethu sat around and waited, fifteen minutes after she was in there a woman that looked like life had handed her one hell of a beating and lay in the bed next to her, she went straight to sleep. Olwethu carried on reading, then another girl entered, she had such light skin she looked like she had been bleached, then after that a gothic looking chick entered and they all just covered themselves in blankets and said nothing.

After the waiting Olwethu felt a deep urge to go to the ladies and as everything had been timed her body released whatever it could from every end. When her body was done relieving itself she felt a paralyzing excruciating pain, her heart beat faster than usual. The pain was in her womb like period pains that render you speechless, she screamed from the pain as she sat on the toilet seat. The nurses ignored her. She crawled back to her room, the pain just would not subside. She tried to walk back to the bathroom and as she struggled her way there, lumps of blood dropped from her and her legs were lined with red streaks… at that moment she was most certain that she will find Shadrack and murder him if she ever lived through this pain.

When the pain felt a little easier she collected paper towels and cleaned all the blood that had dripped everywhere. She was shocked that anyone could bleed that much.

As she climbed back on her bed the other women were starting to wince too. The older on who looked like life had gotten the best of her was complaining that she had gone to government hospital and received better treatment than she was getting there.

The other women winced and complained. A nurse walked in put a wheel chair in front of Olwethu and told her to climb on, she was wheeled into a white room with lights. The doctor smiled at her, injected her and then she woke up screaming for help, back in the bed where she had been taken.

Thursday, November 18, 2010


I wake up in the morning, truth is I didn’t wake up I just got out of the bed, its either the sleep comes or it doesn’t. My mind is filled with many different things and everyday when I wake up and check my e-mails I get angrier, nothing is going like it should, every week seems shittier than the one before, my hair is falling out again. Nothing feels like the reality I once knew, even when I stare into the mirror I see a different stranger everyday. My body refuses to move, my voice refuses to speak and my mind is lost in a coma of depression. The world is so surreal so far away, I am blind once again. So utterly lost as a being. I asked God where I should go? He kept me hoping and this hope is killing me, I have no idea when or how to stop. Uninspired I stare into barrels, shooting guns and ammunition flying everywhere past me… there’s a me that longs to meet with death and dance till the midnights sun rises, but I cannot because to die is not be any more, my vanity is still driven by these useless materials, the bane of my existence, the inspiration of my sadness, nothing is real, I touch myself, hurt myself, because I do not recognise the intruder living inside of me. We are all trapped in here. We want, we long for everything, but nothing is real… except for the pain, the pain feels more real, it makes me feel alive, it wakes me from deep slumber, it shatters dreams that may have been… its like trying to fly when you never got wings… I keep staring into the barrel, I polish a gun, I hold the ammunition, once again I am holding a gun against my head ….

Friday, November 12, 2010

juju Beans

Thembi switched off the heater in the car, her face felt like it was turning a shade of deep purple from the heat, obviously her dark skinned face had not changed colour she just imagined that it did. Sitting in the traffic she thought about the weirdness of the music that played on the radio, she changed stations and realized that maybe every radio station she tried was part of a conspiracy to make her day an annoying one. Cars were moving at 10km an hour, an annoying nasal female voice on the radio said that there was an accident not too far from where her car was, she just hoped that it would all be over soon so she could sit at her desk and stare into space. she looked around at the people in other cars. next to her there was a girl in a silver Golf 5, she looked vain, conceited and all those words that describe someone who thinks they own the world. There in mid traffic, this girl was busy putting on makeup, never mind the fact that the nasally radio presenter had just said that there was an accident. Miss Golf 5 was at it, with one eye open she applied her mascara and she could still move her car forward, Thembi figured this must be a special talent. Thembi carried on looking around and saw a skinny guy in a green Corolla making sure that whatever was up his nose was gone for good. he dug his nose so vigorously she figured he must be enjoying it. Traffic was really moving slowly, she decided to grab the binoculars from the cubby hole and checked what was going on ahead. it seemed the cars were struggling to sneak through one lane. "That's Jozi drivers for you" she thought, "very inconsiderate, not letting each other through, five cars fighting over one lane." Finally she got to the open lane, drove through and the rest of the freeway was as clear as day.

As she drove on the N1 towards Polokwane, Thembi felt her stomach grumble, it had been a while since she had eaten, in fact the last time she had anything to eat was the day before at lunch time, she decided that she would to the nearest garage and get a small snack. her stomach began to feel like it was a big hole that had an endless cavity, the hunger was driving her mad. As she thought about her hunger, she wondered about the guy in the green Corolla and thought if he digs out so many boogers if he felt as hungry as she was would he eat the boogies? She made a gag motion and realized that she just missed her off ramp. She got annoyed and took the next one. When she got to the end of the off Ramp the robots were red she noticed guys selling a few things on the side of the road. She asked herself why they never sell anything useful? it was always stuff that you never needed like how you would be wearing sunglasses and they would try sell you sunglasses. Or because you drive a Fiat try to sell you a Fiat sticker. Nobody who drives a Fiat wants to drive a Fiat, they want to drive a Ferrari, so why would you want to carry on with the humiliation of being a fiat driver by even getting the fiat sticker? She turned right at the robots and carried on down a road called Lynwood. She passed the first robots before, they became red and then just before the second robots her Fiat came an absolute standstill. The car would not move. She tried to restart, scream at it and even got out to kick it. The damn thing just wouldn't move. She knew it, this had to happen on the one day that she was later a pregnant woman for her monthlies. Thembi spat at the car, got her bag locked it and started walking. The car was slap bang in the middle of the road. Thembi had a thing against driving on the fast lane or the slow lane, she believed that the middle lane was the best lane because you could go left or right as you pleased. This she loved. Cars were hooting and people screaming at her, she carried on walking… she couldn’t be bothered. She was however, worried about her shoes, she wondered about the wear and tear and if she would make it to the office in heels without falling to her knees from a grand bout of fatigue and feet aching.

Walking is an amazing thing, Thembi began to realize the world around her, she saw things that she possibly passed all the time, just never noticed because she was zooming past in her not so flashy, not so fast either Fiat. She thought of how many people missed these insignificant construction sights that she was seeing.

A few blocks down the road she had to cross the street, she watched as the cars rushed passed a man in leather pants and a torn jacket, the colour of his face looked like the colour of his leather pants. He was trying to distribute flyers at the robots, people passed him, closed their windows or shooed him off. He was relentless, with some people; he slipped the papers in as they rolled up the windows. Thembi became rather curious, about what the flyer had in it. Why did he want to give it out so badly? Surely he truly believed in what the flyer was selling or saying.

Thembi crossed the seemingly busy street and slowly walked towards the man with leathery black skin. As, she approached he gave her a grin with missing teeth… actually all his teeth were yellow and he had random gaps between them, she couldn’t tell whether the teeth were missing or if he was just born with teeth cluttered around.

She walked passed him and he followed her with a gaze, as she reached the other side of the street she felt a sandpaper like touch grab her hand. Before she could turn around her nostrils were hit by a random stench that 3 day long shower would not help one bit. The leathery man was trying to get her attention. She gave him death stare, but he was not phased he had a goal and no matter how much Thembi would protest he would not relent.

“Bootifool gal you tek the fire?” “Excuse me?” Thembi answered
“You tek Fire?”
“No thank you.”
“You mus it help with sad face. Make you good and happy now now.”
“No thank you.”
Thembi realized that she had been walking for a while now and the leathery man had left his duties at the robot to pester her down the street. “Pease, just take aan.”
“Ok fine! I will take one if you promise to leave me alone.”
She grabbed a flyer from him that read ‘DR Ogudu from Nigeria can fix marriage, penis enlargement, court case, even get you car, house or married’
Thembi looked at the flyer and wanted to burst out laughing, she read on and realized that – this DR Ogudu from Nigeria claimed that he could fix anything and everything. ‘Try my car’ she thought

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The anthology of our bruised soles

There are days when you wake up and you feel like you have been walking for years, there are times where you feel like the entire universe has just spiraled out of control, there are even times where you may feel that taking the next breath is too much effort… but none of these times worse than when you cannot see a solution, a time when the future eludes you and you feel like you are falling into an endless dark cavity, that manages to swallow you and everything you are.

This is the point where you feel you cannot return and you cannot go forward, you are stuck with a deafening scream that takes everything and swoops hope from the depths of your gut and you lie there… nothing…nothing but a worthless turd breathing … a waste of humanity… a feeling worse than that of the passage to the dead.

Who says death is not beauty, a walk through life exposes an enchantment in this deep sleep, a new blossom for the wounded souls. This is a paradise filled orchids inhabited by Phoenix that reject to fly, a place where the darkness is yet a mere dim light…

I dream of a place where the bruises on my soles heal.