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End of the year 1984 Anno Domini…
They are happy.., they are laughing.., gosh, now they are
arguing.., these days they are always arguing.., boring..,
no punches at all!
I do not like it, him going back to Zambesia, alone.
He will be okay, after all, he has been offered a job the
British can not offer.
Still I do not like it, he does not belong.., now she has
stepped on his cones.., he doesn’t like it.
How can you say he does not belong, he is Zambesian, you
know?
And British.., sorry, but one that never feels British.
So what.., wonder why they are quarrelling over something
they can simply ask.
Mom, dad, please stop it.., they look at me.., startled..,
can never understand parents.., they were discussing my
future.., my life.., without having the courtesy of asking
me.., was with them, yet I was like a piece of antique in
the room.., don’t look forward to being a parent.., too
possessive.., too argumentative.
*
‘A’ levels over.., should have been the end of the
problem.., but no.., walks in arms akimbo.., so what are you
planning to do.., does not wait for an answer.., you should
study economics so that later you do an MBA.., another one
comes.., Ngana come over here.., sprawls in the sofa..,
smiling benevolently.., Scribing isn’t bad you know.
Well actually I was thinking of Mining Engineering.
Mining Engineering! Darling, that is too risky. Just the
other day I read that coaliers had been trapped, then there
was…
Mom!
Scribing would be exciting, son. Not an MBA.., they all had
their interests, I had mine.., did Mining Engineering and
gave each a present.., a Scribing diploma, an Economics
degree and an MBA.., thought they would show appreciation..,
but no, then I was living in limbus factuorum..,
parents.., am not surprised how as kids we used to plot how
best to kill them.., problem is we never killed them.., they
are just too precious when not thinking for us.
*
What is it now?
I just wanted to say, I have already made up my mind.
So you are going?
Yes, mom.., she does not like it.., he is enjoying
himself.., she walks out.., blabbing about fathers and sons.
She packed my bags, all the same.., kissed me goodbye..,
wished me well.., what could she do.., it was Christmas!
*
Friday, December 28.
Three days to a big job.., Assistant manager, Operations..,
hope it comes with a Lexus V12 motor.., it had to.
Sunday, December 30.
Can not wait. Assistant manager - Operations, Zambesia Oil
Company, Backwaters Branch.., wonder why anybody would name
a town Backwaters.., any way does not matter much to me..,
the gods of my grandfathers must have been smiling.., wonder
though if dad has any.
Have an English whitey for Boss.., at least he has somebody
with whom to share the humorous queen’s jokes.., he fancies
the queen. Strange!
Strange indeed.., the man does not know that, today, the
queen's kingdom is just a little piece of islands.., no more
continent's.
*
The year 1985, Anno Domini.., need to have a testament..,
will call it the Chronicles of My Travels.., could be
famous!
Already, seeing millions queuing up to get a
copy.., the Pharisees, running in circles trying to see what
the excitement is all about.., frustrated.., they can not
read.., the millions now speak in tongues.., the Pharisees
walk into the darkness, tails between their legs.
Wednesday, January 2.
Still waiting for the excitement to wane.., lodging in a
5-star hotel.., it is no Hilton.., now realise coming here
was the best decision ever.., dropped the ruins of the first
world war a line.
You sure everything is okay.., well I am not surprised,
still can not believe I am safer away from her.
Friday, January 5.
Can not seem to be able to just watch the
waitress walk by.., if only she walked properly.., my hands
are getting longer.., they don’t know the Lib anthem here:
That is sexual harassment.
Monday, January 23.
I paid for being mischievous, wallet evaporated.., think the
mouse should not have danced a whisker away from the cat..,
beginning to think otherwise.., may be I am safer near mom.
Friday, February 1.
Moved into thy dungeon.., not enough room to romp about..,
too constrained, more like a pigsty.., think marrying will
force the Company to give me bigger accommodation.
Marriage, no, not me.., marriage is simply the inability to
find companionship in oneself.., I love myself and enjoy
inner companionship.., well could be an attempt to avoid
being classified as a parent.., not too classy.., what with
your children plotting to kill you.
Tuesday, February 5.
Got an eye for one of the nubile secretaries.., Namakau..,
what a musically loud name.., walked home singing, beautiful
African woman, here I come.
Monday, February 11.
Now what is that? Parking reserved for the
Executive General Managing Director.., now wait.., how are
we supposed to enter the building?
Interesting number plate ML 270.., of course, it
is a Mercedes Benz ML 270.
Wednesday, February 13.
Who the heck is he.., too upright.., must have
an iron rod in the backside.., what happened to the whitey?
Ah! The reserved parking.., ML 270.., how
nice.., symbolising what is in short supply upstairs!
Thursday, February 14.
Was not surprised today.., Mr. ML 270 wants to be called
sir, when I called his predecessor by the first name..,
after all they are one of a kind.., Boss.., wont change a
thing in my case.., what inane cast, he turned out to be.
Friday, February 15.
Consolation, got the car.., not a Lexus V12 motor.., still,
it seems to have rubbery circular feet.., yeah, the damn
thing moves.., and did I burn Company gas.., felt like
Christopher Columbus.., a pity he never had chance to roam
around efficiently.., wonder what he would have discovered
then.., the gods’ dwelling place, surely.
Tuesday, February 19.
The evaporation process did not scare me enough.., listening
to the chatter of women.., could end up in the arms of
amiable folks.., did not turn out that way.., learnt a
lesson: make the ground safe in every turn.., being
assistant manager, took things for granted.
It is the pocket man, not the damn label..,
could not agree any less.., they take labels so serious
here, I thought it would work for me.., every door has a
label.., and even names have labels.., Dr., Honourable..,
E.E, Ecclesiastic Excellentia.., my foot.
Wednesday, February 20.
Woke up feeling pissed.., wonder what I will do today..,
sitting about tossing and turning in the seat, it occurred
to me that after all the world is neither flat nor round..,
little did I realise that descriptions of the shape of the
earth are relative.., strange, the extent to which we
believe our reality.
My world is oblong.., slowly becoming oblong..,
the places, the realities people dwell in.., makes the
Sahara look like heaven.., the taps are dry, but they still
queue for water.
Thursday, February 21.
No oil anywhere in the ground.., luck seems to be running
out.., without striking oil, no big job after all.., Company
definitely headed for boggy ground.
Mr. ML 270 has stopped smiling.., he grins.., now he has a
stiff upper lip.., he is scared.., soon no big job for him
too.., he is scared.., no many women around him too.
Friday, February 22.
On the look out for silver shadows.., heard somebody singing
that oil reflects silver shadows in the skies.., never
turned out to be any.., may be tomorrow.
Saturday, February 23.
Working one's hands to the bone is not as romantic as
portrayed in novels.., in reality it is dehumanising.., what
with, some folks looking down upon others simply because
they are up there.., that is my nice Mr. ML 270.., I love
the fellow, so much that I could bed his spouse.., just hope
she has a good bust.
Monday, February 25.
Though one may be of a different shade, one should always
realise that we harbour the same feelings.., be they of
greed, hate or love.., at times I wonder if I can last in
the company of fellowman.., am being looked at as a mascot.
Thanks to having a compatriot for a Boss.., miss that old
whitey, if only he had stayed longer or I was born
earlier.., may be we would have struck oil.., damn him..,
he left.., can't stop thinking he used a magic wand to make
the oil disappear.., or may be he took the oil with him to
Little Britannia.., how come it is always flowing that end.
Tuesday, February 26.
Got pissed again.., could be, it is a hereditary trait..,
seem not to be able to help it.
Mr. ML 270 not happy that I am chatty to a secretary.., not
good for Company image, he says, and loudly.., smells of: Do
as I say, not as I do.., only if he knew her name is
musical.
Wednesday, February 27.
Feel like patting the one who sang that song `pat the
beads..,' but in this living hell you no longer pat beads,
you kick them in hard.., could be more like it, where
somebody is expected to make virtue out of inconsistency.
Sunday, March 2.
If only I could promise myself not to.., but that would rob
that genius of his entry into the Guinness Book of Records.
Saturday, March 15.
Nice working week, but turned out to have no disciples at
all.., all faked out.., may be I should not have told them
the oil went with the ancestral gods.., am not surprised my
childhood priest said these gods were evil.
Sunday, March 16.
Patience is like wanting to scratch one's rump in public,
but courtesy forbids.., could be more like it in real
life.., with the oil at a distance, really need to scratch
my rump in public.., but no, this is classy reality.., class
forbids not courtesy.
Saturday, March 22.
What a bloody weekend! Just holed up like a pig in a
pigsty.., things not working out too well.., strange.., yet
the Pharisees in the Temple are always laughing.., wonder
whether we worship the same gods.
Tuesday, March 25.
You've got to have the drive to do something worthwhile in
this land.., am in dung.., Mr. ML 270 reprimanded me for
hanging too close to his secretary.., she shouldn't show too
much leg.., think she is a teaser.., tell that to the Lib.
Friday, March 28.
Now, I am convinced his spouse does not have a good bust..,
he warned her!
Wednesday, April 3.
Where is the damn oil.., that is Mr. ML 270.., loud and
clear.., now he uses a megaphone, lo.
Strange.., thought it was his ball game.., always wonder why
when the team is losing, the coach blames the players.., the
players blame the ball.., the crowd blames the referee..,
that is humanity at its best.
Dropped the old folks a line.., everything is
exhilarating.., could not tell them it is getting mirky.
Sunday, April 21.
No silver shadows yet.., better start counting my meek
stars, if any.., any way, how can one expect a bad pheasant
to lay good eggs.
Tuesday, April 30.
Only waiting for that voice in the dark shadows trying to
tell me of the star I would be.., not the way I expected
it.., all that worming in books.., if only books could tell
us how to cope with growing up.., ah, how to face realities
in an abyss.., realities of Temples in the dusk of
ruination.
I need the oil.., it is the thin line between day and night,
fertile land and badlands.
Wednesday, May 1.
May Day, sounds better than Labour Day.., received a line
from the old folks.., they are still quarrelling.
Thursday, May 2.
Came up into this theatre through no fault of mine.., who
said there is oil in Backwaters.., thought it is only
coal.., pity how we can be used as scapegoats for other
people's sins.., does not bother me much though.., my
childhood priest always claimed I had ancestral sins..,
guess the Pharisees in the Temple have sins too.., hope
judgement day comes soon.
Friday, May 3.
The war for ultimate power has pervaded our societies from
time immemorial.., the weak are always trying to reach out
for the rainbow.., seeking to dwell in the Temple too.., a
hope which is as illusive as gold dust.., currently we are
on the precipice of our own demise.., this human greed
permeating every fabric of the human mosaic.., a folly.
Virtue is like a mirage out in the distance.., grappling
with virtue is like making light in the dark of the night
without a flint.., really breaks one's heart to realise one
is against a concrete wall.., education, again.., people’s
religion.., a fallacy.
Whoever invented classrooms, Temples did not realise that
the end product is anguish and, yes, robotic humanity.., no
here they call it patriotic humanity.., imbecilic humanity
it should be.
Saturday, May 4.
Only a shell of the former self.., as much as we try to be
impartial and upright in our dealings, the stark reality of
our being will finally triumph over the temporal beings that
we are.
Sunday, May 5.
The one thing wrong about humanity is that truth is like a
sewer.., nobody likes swimming in a sewer.., told them our
hunger for oil, is nothing but trying to touch yesterday’s
rainbow.., they squirmed.., called me ineffectual.., may be
I needed to lie.., no.., you lie
when you have the tendency to talk before you think.., you
also lie because you do not want to think.., what with lying
being a lower form of intelligence!
Monday, May 6.
I think I am in love, but there is a price to love..,
Namakau again.., she really should not look so erotic.
There is none that does not fall in love, but the unborn..,
beginning to wish I was unborn.., no, living is too
exciting.
But what the hell! Who the hell is that on her arm?
Tuesday, May 7.
Humanity is a web of inexplicable events.., car withdrawn..,
some colleagues are told where the door is, like they never
knew where it was.., not too bad, relying on one's feet for
transport.., may be I will lose the extra kilo’s.., who
knows could end up a model in Fairlady.
Wednesday, May 8.
Everybody talks about the weather, but no one wants to do
anything about it. Paradoxical!
Those who have the means of shielding themselves and others
from the turbulent storms, talk of seeking shelter yonder
above where there are no rain storms brewing.., sometimes I
do not blame them.., after all, we are guilty of the crimes
of the Pharisees.., if not why are they still at the
Temple’s Inner Sanctum.
Thursday, May 9.
Harder times ahead.., that is what that sign should have
read.., not steep slope ahead.
Monday, May 13.
In a rain storm, there is a limit to how long an umbrella
can keep you dry.., better start moving before you get
soaked.., now thinking of returning to Little Britannia..,
if it is still great.
Wednesday, May 15.
Son what you are looking for is nowhere to be seen, better
start scratching your back.
Thursday, May 16.
An ode to my folks…
Human temperament is such an incomprehensible essence of our
messy mosaic. Yet little do we understand what constitutes
this important vitality in our existence. Sitting about at
times you really tend to wonder and marvel at how human
processes in their simplicity always turnout to be an
entangled mess of inconsistent processes in the ultimate
end.
Saturday, May 18.
I really wonder whether silvery streaks are on the
horizon.., feeling low.., am not looking forward to
tomorrow.., damn the guy who invented days.., why do there
always have to be a Monday? Could do without another Monday.
Sunday, May 19.
Feeling like a god.., scaring the hell out of you with
eternal damnation, yet saying there is love at the same
time.., what an act!
Monday, May 19.
Was not off the bull's eye.., another Monday it is…, now
beginning to realise that there is need to understand the
dick theory.., he surely has a dick problem.., that wasn't
Namakau.., doesn't the man know the greatest omission the
gods made when it comes to men was to give them another
brain between their legs!
Tuesday, May 28.
Oh, no.., the waters are collecting round our necks.., the
man still listens to his dick.., now thinking there is no
need to swim.., wonder how john downstairs can be so
dominating.
Thursday, May 30.
In life, if you can not do anything worth human respect..,
sorry you better start kissing your rump real good.., son,
if you don't do it now, know that you are finished.., start
counting your blessings, if you have any left.., this Temple
is surely crumbling.
Sunday, June 2.
Still waiting for the storm cloud to whither away.., wonder
now if it will be the fall.., should have asked the men from
the land of Jesus.., the fellows are surely related to some
Pharisees.., smiling.., smart!
Monday, June 3.
Feeling beaten up, man.., it really beats my mind the load
of things we crave for.., worshipping in a rotting Temple
doesn't pay.., told them there is no oil, unless it rains..,
was I classified insane!
I laughed.., after all, the sane are sometimes proclaimed
insane simply because they are too upright.
Sunday, June 9.
Played ball.., 15 minutes only.., seemed to have been
playing for the opposition.., better luck next time.
Wednesday, June 12.
Mr. ML 270 wanted a commission factored in.., thought the
man draws a salary.., it is a pity that most don't realise
the ingenuity of the ethics of the good.., what with the mad
that do not offer any favours, always remaining mad!
Monday, June 17.
Where is the damn oil? I am beginning to love this
lullaby.., makes me nostalgic.., now sounds more like
Bread’s `Guitar Man’.
Sunday, June 16.
Played ball again.., 37 minutes this time.., at least
figured out who the opposition was.., may be my luck is
coming.
Thursday, June 20.
I wonder.., marvel what those that at sit the Inner Sanctum
think of.., they have really taken the non wine takers for
granted.., but for how long is this going to last.., I see
the fire coming.., no, not fire.., desert sands.
Sunday, June 23.
Never bothered to perch up for the game.., it is not worth
it, only a deterrent to better thought.
What was that thought.., the corrupt is seldom corrupt in
the eyes of the beggar whose wishes have just been realised.
Hail to thee Zambesians.
Dem brains man! May be I should have been a rasta.., no oil
explorations.., only the holy weed.., I and I man, feeling
irie’.
Monday, June 24.
Got bloody pissed again.., only if I could promise myself..,
ending up, most likely, a potential alcoholic.., what a
creep I can be at times, all because of a woman.., forget
about her.., no longer surprised my childhood priest claimed
Eve led Adam into sin.., but how could I, when The Viking
seems not to just be a friend.., no doubt I too have a dick
problem.., at least mine is always in my pants.
Saturday, June 29.
Played ball, only this time to cure a hangover.., strange
now not only knew the opposition, but they surely will need
some physiotherapy.., just wished it were the Pharisees on
the other end.
Sunday, July 7.
May be church isn't bad.., nice try, son.
Wednesday, July 10.
Made a solemn pledge that I wont imbibe alcohol in a public
place.., had to anyway.., they are still quarrelling.., they
had to have an amnesty.
Sunday, July 28.
Looking back on this week, each day was a living torment..,
wonder why the horizon is always in the distance.., no need
for ball.., now they are apologising.., for what..,
discovering that the preacher man was wrong?
Of course, the preacher man is always wrong.., why else do
people return?
Monday, July 29.
Verily, verily, I do wonder what makes us tick.., I know
what makes a clock tick, if only I could know what makes us
tick.., it can not be the grey matter.., it is just too much
an entangled mass of inconsistent cells.., and for these
Pharisees, it is an entangled mess.., they can not excrete
hogwash from their brains.
Friday, August 2.
The vision is getting blurred.., the damn hunger for the
damn oil.
Monday, August 5.
In this decadent society, the average person is very much
like a hungry rat gnawing at almost anything in sight.., am
afraid sooner I will be like that hungry rat I squashed last
night, especially if I do not find the ultimate methodology
for the total eradication of Pharisees.., why is it that
only hard sciences have replicable methodologies.., then
there will be no need of developing an eradication
methodology for the guys whose profession is promises and
lies of a gods’ dwelling place on earth.
Sunday, August 11.
Doesn't seem to be any silvery streaks on the horizon.., may
be the horizon, too, is only a mirage.., should not have
believed that nonsense about oil reflecting silver shadows
in the skies.
Friday, August 16.
Feeling like a reincarnated Inca god.., are you going to be
a professional survivor.., surely opting to always be a
child is a better.
Monday, August 19.
Days are becoming darker.., the horizon now simmers.., the
oceans roar.., the best one can do is get off the boat while
the waters are still calm.., better dive into the chilling
waters knowing that a few strokes will take you to the shore
where realisation of one's dream is attainable.
Friday, August 23.
Can't swim.., gosh, they want breaststroke, not freestyle..,
should have learnt while the waters were at their calmest.
Tuesday, August 27.
It is now like falling into an abyss.., strange that of late
I can not sleep without either exhausting myself or getting
drunk.
Thursday, August 29.
Now they are claiming the Pharisees are
profane.., interesting.., didn’t they know that Pharisees
are only profane to the degree they, society, themselves are
profane.
Sunday, September 1.
I am learning not to trust some souls.., did not kill Jesus,
nor was I there.., why do they not go to my childhood
priest.., he surely was there.., how else could he know so
much about the man.
Friday, September 6..
Apparently the trumpet is being blown at the wrong
audition.., who needs the Temple, without the damn oil..,
idiocracy, my foot!
Idiocracy, dictatorship, where in lies the difference?
Idiocracy, dictatorship are nothing, but symptoms of the
inability of the masses to govern themselves.., in both, the
masses relinquish self-rule.., if I am wrong, why else is
idiocracy an experiment in misrule and yes sermons in a
labyrinth.., the experiment fails, they remain.., it
succeeds, they are out.
Whatever, it is the damn oil that matters.
Sunday, September 15.
Strange that I am in a land of no fixed abode.., where are
they going now.., West.., gosh, will we ever learn.., you
travel west, you end up in somebody else's east.., you
travel east, you end up in the west.., can not help think we
still believe the world is flat.
Aah.., wait what a sight.., their children..,
hey, our parents went this way.., no, they went this way..,
hey, forget it!
Indeed.., if we don’t change our ways, when our
children seek our footprints in the sands of history, they
will arrive at only one conclusion. 'We went nowhere’.
Monday, September 23.
Look at yourself today and think.., has the brief stay been
worthwhile.., if not, what is on the horizon.., about half a
year ago, everything seemed rosy.., now everything seems to
have melted away, just like the yeti can not stand a hot
summer.
Wednesday, September 25.
Today you are still sweating like they used to light years
ago.., the question is: where is this degrading level of
reticence and passivity leading to.., the damn oil, that is
it.., could be it is the difference between a house Negro
and a field Negro.
You are on your own son.
Friday, October 4.
Never in my life have I felt this bitter.., sitting about
and cogitating about humanity is enough to make you want to
piss in somebody else's beer.
I wonder why one is still waiting for that reflection in the
sky.., only a few have it, for the rest of the flock, the
blue skies are illusive.., slowly believing could have been
safer being just a piece of antique.
Sunday, October 6.
The Sunday road show came round again.., Jesus would surely
have been impressed.., pretending to be happy amidst
despair.., wonder if they know their eyes told a different
story.., lack of worship of the gods of the stomach.
Monday, October 7.
At times I can not really help being superstitious.., it’s
the damn African heritage.., had a strange dream.., found
the oil in a fast flowing stream.., need a dam.
Tuesday, October 8.
Got drunk and made a nuisance of myself.., not to worry it
is part of growing up.., why should Mr. ML 270 be so
protective, he is married after all.
Strange, the man does not know that adultery is nothing but
a symptom of sexual inadequacy.., may be I should send him a
card saying: Get it up man, your spouse needs it.., no,
could be the man has a different MBA.
Married But Available.., sickening.
Wednesday, October 9.
Just hope Mr. ML 270 now knows, he too is a loser.., a
be-seen-with!
The Viking again.., she must fancy him.., no, it is about
economics.
Thursday, October 10.
It is a pity that we have been dehumanised to the point of
accepting reed baskets of water as an integral part of our
existence.., whatever you do as an alternative is futile..,
at work they all call you Bwana, you smile.., if only they
know that with the close of the day, the darkness engulfs
you like a giant octopus, the gods of the stomach cry out
for lack of worship.., yet dropped the now distant folks a
line.., everything is fine.., could not really tell them the
truth.
Tuesday, October 15.
I have tried.., the oil is still illusory.., surely, may be
that old whitey should not have left.., his gods were
definitely better.
Wednesday, October 23.
Why are their tears so noisy.., when a loved one dies,
bereavement is twofold: the loss which can be borne; and the
bereavement of the illusion of the infinitude of our being -
which is no reason for the noise of tears.., any way the
noise of tears is seldom for the dead, but for one's
imminent demise.
Lo, it is the Pharisees who are louder.., guess they never
thought they too will return to dust.., to dust they too
shall return.., and what beauty.., peeing on their graves!
Monday, November 4.
I am becoming worried.., Mr. ML 270 thinks I am gunning for
his job.., who needs it without the damn oil.., strange the
man does not realise it is all because of the new journey
West.
Tuesday, December 10.
Vowed never to take alcohol.., really wasting away.., if
only I can keep the vow.., anyway, vows are made to be
broken.., need to find the damn oil.
Friday, December 13.
At my best.., nubile company for the weekend.., hope it is a
G-string.., Mr. ML 270 is definitely on the weeping side.
Saturday, December 14.
Danced too early.., want my cowry shells back!
Surely.., now need to kill The Viking.., teaching her the
wrong things.
Monday, December 16.
The bloody silver lining is nowhere in sight, too.., feeling
homicidal.., can kill the man at the Temple’s Inner Sanctum.
Sunday, December 22.
Please leave me alone.., don't want to know about the man..,
I have enough problems of my own.., don't think he has any
shoulders left for mine.
No.., wait.., what does he know about oil.., nothing, eh..,
then, please go.., but you are welcome any time your man
knows something about oil.
Tuesday, December 24.
It is Christmas.., feel like I never heard of the man called
Jesus.., wonder what he had for Christmas.
Saturday, December 28.
If you have to reach for the silvery streaks on the horizon,
do so with a magic wand.., more crap again.., next time I
will skin the guy who plays this tune again.., will be damn
slow about it.., layer by layer.
Monday, December 30.
Gosh, not another three hundred sixty-five and a quarter
days.., what am I supposed to do with all these days..,
simply need the quarter day.., that will be enough for me.
*
Another year, 1986 Anno Domini.
Friday, February 14.
Many have been found guilty and hanged, only because the
jury found the truth too bitter a medicine to swallow.., the
damn oil.., they know I will never find it, yet now I am
before the Bench.., guilty, they croak.., their nakedness..,
ah.., ugly.
I wonder whose guilty.., reminds me of men in frocks with no
iota of sensibility.., always leaving their grey matter with
the Pharisees.
Monday, April 7.
I was talking to Mr. ML 270 in the washroom.., he really had
innovative ideas about finding the oil, except for his
perverse argument that intestinal release is a form of
orgasm.., wondered what humanity would be like, if the
thoughts people have during intestinal release were
actualised.., only problem is, he did not like my dick
theory - the fall of most men is deeply rooted in their
inability to control john downstairs.
Tuesday, April 8.
Indeed.., ablution has no class.., that was
loud!
Wednesday, April 9.
May be the world would be better upside down.., then the oil
would flow.., Mr. ML 270 shown the door.., they discovered
something novel.., his tongue is more forked than the
Pharisees in the Temple.
Friday, April 11.
Cant wait to see the new Boss.
Tuesday, April 15.
Now, I have to supervisor the building of a
runway.., gosh I thought the ML 270 was adequate.
Monday, April 21.
I do not like this new Boss.., he is the high noon shadow of
the last one.., gosh it is now clear the dick problem is
symptomatic of management.., is she the only woman around..,
why do they damn get married then.., why in hell do the
single women fancy married men?
It is simply a question of economics.., thanks man.., but
that must be sick.., no, its life.
Saturday, July 12.
We are a pathetic lot.., everyone expects you to be
everybody.., they ask you the same questions that they asked
the other fellow.., you tell them the reality, they
cringe.., they seem not to realise that heterogeneity is the
motor of humanity.
In any case, humanity did not arrive where it is today, from
a position of homogeneity.., if all of humanity thought
alike, was the same, we could still be residing in caves..,
come to think of it, this Temple is actually a cave.., what
a nation.., dodos.., always hungering for the blue skies..,
what do you expect.
It is the damn oil syndrome.., that is simply it.
Thanks dad.
Friday, September 5.
The crowd makes me sick.., really do not want to walk the
road where everybody else has been.., will seek my own
road.., it will have greener edges.
Sunday, October 19.
Promises of a better tomorrow in a place where the gods’
dwell.., sorry, I can't trade my freedom for promises.
Sunday, October 26.
Gosh.., bad things happen, not because the devil willed them
to, but simply because we, humanity, did.., if a child dies
of hunger where food is plentiful, surely is it the devil's
fault.., can not believe these guys.., I think my childhood
priest was better at it.
Monday, December 8.
It may not really matter that my life is about questioning
the evolution of my reality, as what is evolving around my
being is in the recess of my mind.., after all, if you seek
wrong, you will always find it.
Tuesday, December 9.
In a bottomless pit.., it doesn't really matter any more..,
after all most of humanity is caught up in the same trap..,
the damn oil.., that is the trap.., and Temples in an abyss
beckon.
Wednesday, December 24.
There should be the noise of tears.., not this merriment..,
wonder if the man knew this is what was going to happen
later, he would have still taken the option he took.
*
The last years in Backwaters.
Now thinking I do not belong.., Little Britannia on my
mind.., the year 1987 Anno Domini.
Thursday, January 15.
There is only one thing wrong here.., we want to run to the
oil wells, yet we never bothered to learn how to walk.
Monday, February 9.
I am in the Garden of Eden.., when I left, I could still see
the dark smoke I had caused.., a pity now I have forgotten
where the well
is.
Friday, February 27.
People are in a hurry for nothing.., where are they going,
anyway.., to get oil.., will they ever learn.., only the
well at the Temple’s Inner Sanctum never dries up.
Monday, March 2.
Humanity.., self interests and self preservation first..,
the door again.., come to think of it.., the door was a bad
invention.., alas, Boss is still Boss.., so much for
travelling West.
Life is really a comedy.., viva Zambesia!
Wednesday, March 4.
One can not resist the impression that the world is governed
with eyes closed.., don't they realise that the world is
tilted towards the middle east.., that is why they have all
the oil.
Saturday, March 21.
Walking a tightrope, again.., one of life's greatest
misfortunes is not being born.., how can one know what life
is, if one does not experience its turbulence.
Friday, April 3.
Life is better lived through deceit.., two years now..,
still have the same dream.., oil in fast flowing streams..,
It should not have trickled.., just worsened my plight.
Thursday, April 9.
No silvery streaks on the horizon.., still amongst more
despicable squalor.., how can one enjoy one's relative good
fortune.., may be prehistoric man had a case against
nature.., we should have stuck to the caves.., well, what
with the damn oil leading to an estrangement with nature.
Monday, May 11.
Gone are the days when we had dreams that came true.., it is
so sad to watch your dreams fade away by the flicker of
light.., strangely only the Pharisees have dreams that come
true.., wonder why they have to show it around the rump..,
now they need a peniscope to examine the warts on their
phalluses!
Tuesday, May 12.
The more you cogitate, the more explosive you become..,
really, life is about being level headed.., but how can I be
level headed, when Walter Rodney, Adam Smith, Marx, UN, IMF,
World Bank, seem to be like the Jesus of my childhood
priest.
Wednesday, May 27.
Life is not worth living if one spends most of one's time
sitting and thinking about the times gone.., of course, they
are the good old days.., it is history, that is simply it..,
if only one can do away with history, then with no
yesterday, today would always be good.
Sunday, May 31.
For the gods so loved humanity that they gave their only
begotten son, so that who so believes in him shall have to
learn that Pharisees are higher beings.., ah.., am surely
better than those guys.
Friday, June 5.
At times I wonder why I am here.., spent the whole day
perched up.., roasting my rump.., seems I chose the wrong
career.., being a Pharisee is really the career here.
Tuesday, June 9.
Company about to be shown the door.., the thorns on the road
to the West.., Boss very pensive.., what a temper.., find
the bloody oil, it is not Company policy to mess around with
female staff.
The beauty of the righteous, the perfect reflection of the
unrighteous.
Wednesday, June 10.
Remove the door.
Friday, June 26.
I am taller.., congratulated by Head Office.., lo, not
Boss.., could not help but concede to Adolf Hitler's
dictum.., unless you are prepared to be pitiless you will
get no where.
Saturday, June 27.
What is for me.., mine is the same.., never trust a fellow
human being.., I got a kick in the teeth, that is it..,
imagine for trusting a fellow human being.., never ever will
I assist humanity without having a piece of the bread.
Monday, June 29.
Some hard lessons for the week.., Namakau.., The Viking is
reality!
Wednesday, July 1.
That Pharisee’s sermon was hogwash.., any way he
does not know that lies
are also simply a manifestation of an inability to
understand change.
Friday, July 3.
Nobody told me that this is what growing up is all about..,
looking for oil in fast flowing streams.., the distant folks
should have told me.
Surely.., if only Boss could…
Thursday, August 6.
One of the darkest periods in my life.., should seriously
consider my predicament.., on the verge of a demotion..,
Boss, still says: find the damn oil.., can't you ever
manifest what you learnt at University.., thank you very
much.., I also have a Scribing Dip.., MBA.
Hey Boss, I thought that Challenger is for aerial surveys..,
can not tell him.., he is too educated.., he has a label in
front of his name.
Saturday, August 8.
At this rate one will just end up a destitute.., poverty,
disease are the worst scourges of mankind.., whoever said
poverty and disease fornicate, and procreate rapidly could
not have been more perspicacious.
Monday, August 10.
It is really true that you can only appreciate the light
after you have been through the darkness.., will I ever
appreciate the light.., I have never really been in the
darkness.., the ugliness of well off parents.
Sunday, August 16.
They came armed to the teeth.., Moses could have been
proud.., rammed Jesus down my throat.., well my ancestors'
sins are their own.., have enough of my own.., they
argued.., whoever told them I need the man.
Chased them round the corner.., Satan, they ranted.., didn’t
know god’s people can be so ugly.
Felt sorry for them for they know that God
dwells not in a building or religion.., God dwells in you,
but you can never be God.
Monday, August 31.
He rubbed my nose in the mud, I rubbed his, too.., that is
my nice Boss, I should show my love by bedding his spouse.
Monday, September 7.
What!
She had used the word love.., well.., indeed,
love is the most inappropriate word characterising human
power and exploitive relations.
Tuesday, September 8.
Woke up on the intellect train.., Love,
infidelity are words many grapple with.., the simple fact
is, infidelity is a function of the misconceptions of
love.., infidelity's synonym reduces to one word,
unfaithfulness.., but, have you ever picked up a lexicon,
and looked up the synonyms of the word love.
Synonyms of love, be intimate, bed, bonk, dear, dearest,
enjoy, get laid, fuck, know, passion, screw, affection,
devote, adore, and a litany of absurdities.., the end result
is a dichotomy.
Love is a dichotomy.., you either claim to be in love,
simply because the victim of your love arouses your soul and
intellect, but such victims of your love often fail to
arouse your body.., or you claim to be in love, simply
because the victim of your love arouses your body, but again
such victims of your love often fail to arouse your soul and
intellect.
If you so understand this dichotomy, then it should be that
you should understand that love is an act of psychological
and, sensual or physical reconciliation.., infidelity, then,
is simply discordance in understanding love's dichotomy and
an inability to reconcile the competing spheres.., so
tomorrow, when you proclaim your love, you should know that
all you are proclaiming is either infidelity or
reconciliation.
Wednesday, September 9.
Never in my life did I fathom being in such a pitiful
state.., tell it to those who care.., they will certainly
howl: get back son.
Thursday, September 10.
Missed the oil.., came across it the other side of the
river.., could have been the turning point in my life..,
well, will continue waiting for that distant silvery streak
on the horizon.., if only Boss could.
Saturday, September 26.
Happy birthday.., 25 years old.., boy have I come a long
way.., what a pity that on one's birthday, the day starts
with the gods of the stomach running a riot.., assistant
manager not worshipping the gods of the stomach.., hope one
day I will tell it to those who will find the oil.., no, not
the distant folks.., they will only rave.
Monday, November 9.
I knew it was coming, yet I did nothing about it.., the
door, my foot.., shouldn't have just advised them to remove
it, the hinges and frame should have been removed as well.
That is the new found road West.., taught me some hard
lessons about life.., never take what is not yours for
granted.., at least they are human, let me stick in the
dungeon for another six months.
Wednesday, November 11.
Now a piece of hot coal.., that is the way with women..,
cannot stand a loser.., guess it is all about the perpetuate
of the aggressive genes.., no soft feelings.., she even
softly gives a piece of advice.., go back.., Blimey.., just
go give it to The Viking!
Friday, November 13.
Had to vent my anger.., got drunk and ended up at Boss's
mansion.., well, former Boss.., felt like screaming..,
remembered dad's wisdom.., son, let them enjoy their sleep
for they know not how we sleep.
Wednesday, November 18.
I hate the postman.., feel like killing him.., the Temple,
too, is headed for the door.., ah.., the ruins of history..,
still arguing.
Friday, November 20.
When you are at your nadir even that which is forthright
wont be forthcoming.., the fallacy of education.., work
mobility, what utopia.., when I have the time, I will give a
guest lecture to that damn lecturer who talked about
education and social mobility.., I think he never heard of
the Greater Idiocratic Republic of Zambesia.., and the
thorns on the road West.
Sunday, November 29.
Gosh.., it really must be some new pastime.., I hate
intrusions.., told them to go to hell, asked me if I knew
where it is.., how should I know.., they are the ones that
always talk of hell.
Thursday, December 3.
They threw the crumbs at me.., got pissed.., the good thing
about getting pissed is that it keeps somebody else happy
for longer than the pissed.
Friday, December 4.
The challenge lies in looking ahead and not reminiscing
about times long gone.., it is very disheartening to
continue the way one's ancestors did.., there is really no
excuse for doing it.., dropped a line to the distant
folks.., everything is fine.., really had to show them I can
stand the test of Zambesia.
Sunday, December 6.
When he closes one door, he opens another or the window..,
too late now.., wait.., if I come with you, when will he
open the window.., you do not know.., get out, fast.
Always promises, yet they don’t know when they will be
fulfilled.., seriously no different from the Pharisees.
Monday, December 14.
I feel like sitting on my head for a change.., chased the
postman.., keeps bringing the wrong mail.., don't need no
sympathy.., she can stuff her sorry.
Friday, December 25.
May be Mohammed is better than their man.., don't know why
they are happy.., of course they have the damn oil.
Sunday, December 27.
The things you least seek in life, are often the ones that
you can easily touch.., all because they are of a lesser
existence.
Friday, January 1.
Damn.., another year ends, another begins.
Thursday, January 21.
The silvery streak on the horizon is only in my mind.., my
time is nearing.., can not believe it.., so young and
already cast away like a dirty rag.
Well Little Britannia, I am sure coming back.., at least
there Pharisees make promises and there is a trickle.., here
it is always a drought.
Friday, February 12.
Can't really bring myself to imagine how I got entangled in
this predicament.., don't know why I didn't see the writing
on the wall.., no oil, here please.., hint: try the other
side of the meadow.., may be I should have listened to mom.
Monday, February 22.
The crows, I used to hate them.., now they are my idols..,
point of teardrops.., it is that bloody book.., In the Fog
of the Seasons End.
Tuesday, March 1.
It requires paranormal determination to live to the dusk of
the day.., can not believe the crap some people advertise.
Future Search!
Bah, who needs a future search, when today is what
matters.., IMF, World Bank, they surely must have crawled
from a dark hole where Adam Smith’s spirit dwells.., foxes
that is what they are.., stiff straight.., and they call
themselves economic development workers.., what a joke!
Poverty promoters, it should be.
Saturday, March 12.
Chased the postman, again.., who needs an eviction notice..,
should have killed him the first time he came round.., any
way the chase gave me a good feeling and a good laugh.., he
must have thought he will end up at the stinking morgue.
Sunday, March 13.
Woke up feeling dejected.., Jesus' people came round.., they
shouted, they ranted, they cried.., let them.., at the end
of the mayhem, all I could say was, I am not yet dead..,
thought they were crying for me.., chased them in the end.
Monday, March 14.
Poverty and disease really do fornicate.., hospitalised and
discharged.., may be they did not like my face.., what am I
supposed to do with a prescription.., well it is softer,
better than the scripts.
Thursday, March 17.
Where am I.., am I where my ancestors used to be.., the sky
is darkening on me, yet the sun is high up in the sky.
Sunday, March 20.
Chased Jesus' people.., don't need no tomorrow.
*
Another Monday.., the date.., March 21.
I can't see.., where have all these people come from.., why
don't they leave me alone.., go away.., wait.., what did you
say.., Go home.., yes, thanks.., will do just that.
Wait.., perplexed.., tell me how come you are always
smiling.., are you related to a Pharisee.., more
perplexed.., was just wondering.
Friday, March 25.
Silvery streaks on the horizon.
Hooray.., oh, no.., it is only a pale misty horizon.
Saturday, March 26.
The difference between suicide and murder, is merely that
with suicide, the murderer and the murdered are
inseparable.., who is going to charge the murdered for
murder.
Dis aliter visum..,
well,
the gods have thought otherwise.
Sunday, March 27.
Time to close the testament.., ah, somebody I should have
killed just walked in.., parents, they can never leave you
alone.
Look at you, you are so…
So emaciated?
Yes, no. So skinny.., scratches his head.
Come, we have to talk.., I was no better than a lamb..,
strange, yet there were no shepherd dogs
*
Son, life is not black and white,
neither is it like the blue skies on a cloudless
day.
Life is not like a calm ocean when the storms cease,
nor is it like the night when the moon is full.
Life is a shroud,
a shroud of mysteries.
In our vain comprehension,
we seek many ways to change life,
but in our failings and laziness,
solitude we find in the Temple,
yet in the Temple, life we do not find.
So the Temple procreates,
that which we seek to change fades in the
distant distance.
*
Strange old man.., who told him I am interested in poetry..,
life my old man, is Zambesia.., guess he wont understand any
way.., need to tell him that as we grow older, we get
cynical of the world around us not because we get wiser, but
because it is a world we failed to change.., could be for
him, I hope in his seeking to change the world, he wont end
up being changed.
Come son, I will show you life.., well.., only hoped his
life was also not only a pale misty horizon.
* |
