Kupuzo ya mutalahali muyeni aka Walubita
To the memory of
my younger brother Walubita
– who’s freshness I dearly miss
and,
that unknown beautiful black African child
- the surrogate for all those children
whose horizons are always pale grey and misty.
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 he can not be offered here.”
“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 Britannia.” Sorry, but one that
never feels Britannia.
“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, one 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. They love big motors here.
On the way from the airport, I even
saw a civilian manoeuvring a tank into his lush yard.
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, only football.
*
The year 1985, Anno Domini.
Need to
have a testament. Will call it the Chronicles of the Fourth Dimension, could be
famous!
Already,
seeing millions queuing up to get a copy. 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 fat 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.
Too sexually rhythmic. 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. You got rhythm, you got
soul.
Monday, February 11.
Now what
is that? Parking reserved for the Chief Executive Officer General Managing
Director. Wait!
How are
we supposed to enter the building?
Interesting
number plate ML 63 AMG. Of course, it is a Mercedes Benz ML 63 AMG. It says so
on the damn car.
Well, he
never read that, poverty of creativity is customising your car licence plates
to simply amplify the manufacturer’s model identity of the car.
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 for ML 63 AMG.
How nice!
Symbolising
what is in short supply upstairs!
Thursday, February 14.
Was not surprised today, Mr. ML 63 AMG
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. Guess, he does not know that we are respected more
because of our conduct than the label preceding our name.
Sir!
Reminds one of the native
commissioner.
Oh!
Perhaps, I need to remind him that it
is not the title of an office that matters, it is how its functions are
realised.
Friday, February 15.
Consolation, got the car, not a Lexus
V12 motor. A rusty beaten up Landcruiser short wheelbase.
Wonder, where it crawled from.
Anyway, 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 foggy!
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 63 AMG 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 63 AMG. I love
the fellow, so much that I could bed his spouse. Just hope she has a good bust.
Sunday, February 24.
The
belief in God should not narrow our inquisitiveness in the likelihood of the
non-existence of God. If you are a believer, then you should accept the
possibility that you could be wrong.
Gosh!
It is
bemusing when watching Africans during the holy day. Cant help think that God
is black.
They love
him! Thought he came with the colonial masters.
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 63 AMG 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’. 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.
Ah! They surely do not have to speak
in a gibberish language. God understands their language.
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 63 AMG 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! The man just has no guts to admit he also
fancies her.
Wednesday, April 3.
Where is the damn oil, that is Mr. ML
63 AMG. 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 pitch. The crowd blames the referee. That is humanity at its
best.
Friday, April 5.
Dropped the old folks a line. Everything
is exhilarating, could not tell them it is getting mirky.
......
Monday, August 3.
One of the darkest periods in my life.
Tea boy tells me to make him a cup of tea. Filthy sandaled feet on my desk. A
smirk on his face.
He hails from Boss’ uncountable hamlets.
Boss is away. He is boss, he thinks. A sad reality!
Thursday, August 6.
On the verge of a demotion. Should
seriously consider my predicament. Boss, says I insulted acting Boss!
Friday, August 7.
Boss still sings the same old song. 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 and at the end 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 not 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.
Sincerely, 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.
Tea boy has a label. And it is on my
door!
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.
Tuesday, November 10.
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 hard 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' mansion. Well, former Boss. Felt like screaming. Remembered
dad's wisdom. Son, let them enjoy their sleep for they know not where we sleep.
Wednesday, November 18.
I hate the postman. Feel like killing
him. The Temple, too, is headed for the door. Ugh! The ruins of history. Still at war.
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.
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
To read more visit http://miliko.vacau.com/delusions.htm
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