once upon a time
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i don't know if this story actually has a beginning since they say '
that which has a beginning has an ending'. i shudder to find its beginning since it simply means that at some stage i will have to find its ending. however it is something that evolves from a poetry workshop in my hometown of bushbuckridge. well, i don't really live in bushbuckridge but it's the town nearest to my township, roughly seven to ten kilometres. at such a distance, which as children me and my cousins we used to cover on foot this small collection of shops qualifies to be my town.
a nubian is sitted in a toyota quantum which's movement i have been monitoring since it left polokwane that morning. of the people i could put names to faces is makosha, david ramakgwakgwa and vonani who together we navigate a vessel called ******.
while the minibus was on the way vonani called to inform me that my story has been published in city press, the mainstay newspaper for darkie intellectuals. he tells me it's a big story, well, i have sent them two stories, one on refugees and one on the american poster boy barack obama. i am happy given that i haven't been sending stuff for a while even though city press used to be my playground.
i borrow the newspaper the minute i come into touch with the folks in the minibus and rush to my story. that is what matters, my story and to see how they edited it. i then give directions to the minibus to find a suitable parking spot next to hall 7, where the workshop will take place. there are some few folks we are waiting for, a group from nelspruit, one from shatale and zolani mkiva.
some hours later the workshop is finished. i have been resourceful to myself, taking pictures and archiving the moment for posterity. what i haven't observed is the plethora of people who are here. now, i have a certain thing about older, more mature women but looking around i don't see anything that tickles my fancy.
my way of life is not to go to workshops looking to be hooked but when the opportunity presents itself who am i to protest. after the workshop we all qeue for lunch which has been well prepared and dished outside the hall. i take my time to eat since i'm on a serious diet and watch what i put in my mouth very carefully. i might be a man but i ascribe to the women slogan, 'a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips'.
well, i guess with me it would be a lifetime on the belly. i hate a pot belly, i can't stand it, i can't carry the baggage that comes with it like low self-esteem, jealousy, insecurity and unnecessary suspision. i hate the bulge with all my heart and i dedicate my diet and skipping rope to keeping it away from me. i am also told that it has a reputation to interfere with a man's sexual prowess. all of a sudden a man can't see his dick as the fat swallows a fraction of it. all of a sudden a man can't do some positions as the bulge interferes with his thrusts. for the life of me i can't live if i can't see my dick everyday.
while on the qeue to dish up infront of me is this nubian princess i have observed with serious curiosity. but like all nubians i observe in my millions of travels she has to pass a test. i don't do bimbos, a lesson i learnt form hollywood and the studs who tried to do pamela anderson lee, britney spears and paris hilton. i wonder what's talk like between dumbheads. i am in the media and i hear a lot of shit in a day to last me two lifetimes and i often ask myself why would i want to be stuck with a broad whose trash will require me to mental floss after every encounter?
bimbos out. on the qeue we start to talk. now me and makosha go like a way back when she still had two kids, and the last time i met her she had three. and today she has four, which is fine since earlier i joked with her about whether she was taking god's instruction to fill the world literally. but on sunday sun there is a story of leleti khumalo of sarafina and generation's fame who claims that she's leaving her husband of many years playwright mbongeni ngema.
we start talking about her. my take is that she has met someone and now feels like dislodging. i'm thinking '
come on woman you don't just jump out of a plane without a parachute, no ways'. i also remember that when she married mbongeni he was married to a woman whose divorce became messy. she was cool with it then but now she thinks polygamy sucks. hypocrite.
then the nubian, who has been saying some things earlier about the same story says something that catches my attention. i guess i was saying something about women loving to take shit from husbands for a mere fact that they have been married for a long time and they have kids. the nubian protests saying that the issue is that when you dislodge at a late stage you can't get another man. i protest saying that there are plenty men and she says '
i don't want someone who'll just bonk me for two minutes and leave'. that makes me laugh now because i'm now thinking, not only is she pretty and opinionated but she's crazy too, she's mad as well, she's straightfoward like an arrow.
now i like that in a woman and i seize the moment and say, '
there's nothing wrong with him bonking you for two minutes if he's going to cuddle you afterwards and listen to your dreams and fears'. now i can sense that we are in sync on this one and i feel my heartbeat increasing as my fantasy is coming live.
we dish and when i walk into the hall to eat i notice my colleague, good old lungile sitting down devouring the food with serious zest. i patch myself next to her and start teasing her. the nubian is sitting a few rows from there and yells, '
you see what i was talking about, already you are entertaining another woman'. i laugh since this now feels like pieces of a puzzle falling into place in a big way. i take to my feet to retort while she urges me to sit down where i was, '
come on now, what's i'm having with her is a quickie, for you and i it's mid to long term'. she smiles, wow, she smiled - not just for everybody as she's been doing the whole workshop but for me. something in the back of my mind says '
you could be loved'
after the lunch i meet with her at the door and start a proper conversation since i know you don't find love on punchlines alone. first she's a little cocky as if she's not the one i have been speaking to minutes ago. i love challenges. '
do you write?', i ask her.
'
no i don't'
'
are you just a fan?'
she tells me she has read my poetry book and i want to know what her impressions of my poetry are. she's diplomatic about it and reserves most of the hard criticism she would otherwise have. i ask her if she writes and she says yes but she never sends her material anywhere else. i tell her we've got a lot to discuss between ourselves and ask for her name. '
alex'
'
alex?'
'
actually it's alexandrias' she responds. this is the first time i have heard such a name and my suspisions that she might be coming from nubia suddenly hold water. this is place between egypt and sudan and she has eyes like those of the pharaohs.
i pull out my phone and am about to punch in her number when my phone rings. after the brief call i hand over the handset for her to put it there but she opts to call my number instead. '
you have always had my number but you hadn't called' i protest.
'
no, i only had it this morning when vonani gave it to me'
'
but you haven't called' i added. she smiles like a kid in a sweet store - i love that - it's a good sign.
we have a long chat reveals that she has done a lot of things, among them construction and studying english. she tells me that she's at turf where she's doing an masters. '
masters, why that far?' i ask. now she's puzzled and wants to know why i asked that question. i am stuck, i was just surprised that someone will go that distance and she persists.
'
why are you curious?'
'
i was in joburg a few weeks ago and and some friend i have not seen in many years when i told him i was doing an ma he asked me the same question and i asked him why that question and he never gave me an answer, and now you are asking me the same question. why ask me that question?'
'
i'll tell you when i call you later today'. she's silent and smiles. '
i'm definitely going to call you today'
'
to tell me what?'
i tell her i will call to discuss a lot of things like her dreams, her fears, so that some of those dreams can be shared. she's fine.
late at night after a watching the news and other things on television i decide to make the call. one thing i have always loved about me is my ability to keep promises. '
hey, what's up?'
'
yeah'. my heart skips a beat.
'
it's me goodenough'
'
i see'
'
how are you?'
'
i'm not fine'
'
what's wrong now?'
'
i have a headache', she responds. i remember an old cure for headaches that i have always trusted. if my headache is a migraine it's because there is an intrusive light at night, a light bulb or something artificial that interferes with total darkness. if it's a headache it's largely dehydration which requires water.
'
you should drink lots of water'
i sense that she was sleeping and have to end the conversation with the dosage. immediately after the conversation i write an sms with the dosage.
first thing in the morning i send message to check on her. now she doesn't respond around that time but some two hours later. i raise it as an issue that she woke up at 8h20 and she asks me if it was a train smash. at this stage i'm thinking, if she was 19 i would have said, '
fuck you' because there would be nothing deeper that i can say but given that i'm already impressed i write back '
no it' a plane crash, and the black box is missing'. i figure this must have been a curved ball. we engage in sms during the week, she has piles, goes to see a doctor, she's getting there, she fine, i'm actually getting deep now, i sense that we are together in this, we share dreams, she dreams kinky, i dream something similar but in mine i'm on some cunnilingus, eating her pussy while hugging her thighs and massaging her d-cups. in my dream she's screaming, she foams, creams, bends like a cat and i'm doing an absolute tongue job that makes her scream. well, i share that dream with her.
somewhere in the week we are chatting and she tells me she has a surprise for me. i'm thinking, what an mms of her pussy or her face since i don't have a clear picture of her. then she says she's going to durban and wants to know what i'm doing. my thoughts are like, fuck it, this chick wants to screw me in durbs. i keep options open until i find out that i will be in jozi on some course i need to attend. well i communicate that with but i'm thinking if she's game she must pass through jozi on sunday for a quick shag on her way to durbs.
one of my strengths, i'm past excited and can stay composed even in the face of temptation. i get to my hotel on sunday and relax. after watching the news and carte blanche i go down for a bite and once again we start chatting. she sends a message that 'i'm excited to be here. are you ready for the course tomorrow?' now i'm thinking she's already in durbs and ask as such. no response, but i have gotten used to her no-responses to the point that it's a non-issue.
the following morning i wake up rather early, take a shower and take the taxi to parktown where the course is going to be held. i touch base with mabatho, dintle and gugu who i met the last time i came around. i move into the room where phil molefe will facilitate the course and to meet my classmates. i'm sitting there making friends when, i don't remember that really happened but miracle of miracles, here's alex, in all her glory. i leave my tea take to my feet and give her a tight squeeze. for the first time in my life i'm speechless, i want to kiss her, touch her in all areas and maybe even shag her all in one minute. we talk briefly amid the stares, she makes her coffee, our course is starting and i have to go. i tell her we'll talk during tea time.
as the organisers would have it our breaks are apart and there's no way we will ever talk. just as we walk out at around 17h00 i see her in their shuttle and i try to make contact, to no avail. immediately after the shuttle drove out of the gate i send her a message to alight at parktonian hotel where i'm staying. no feedback.
i get to parktonian minutes later and look for her. she's not there. i then go to my room, relax and send her a message that i'm coming to her hotel. before that i go to pick and pay and buy a family pack of durex condoms. the girls at the kiosk joke that a family pack is for making love for the whole year. i tell them i concur with them and that since they are twelve it's actully one condom a month. the ones i bought however comes with a massage cream, which is a bonus. i ask the girls to give me a plastic bag and they say i should put them in my pocket. i do so and leave.
minutes later i'm at alex's hotel reception and buzz her. she comes down. i'm in a rush, i just want to get to her room, strip her naked and shag her like a mad man then relax and talk sense. alex suggests we sit a little bit as she's got a roommate. we chill a little at her suggestion and i can feel myself losing the plot and suggest that we move to parktonian.
minutes later we are there, in my room and the first thing i do is to go into my room and leave the condoms. i come back and feel the urge to hold her, i do and she's quick to sit me down. 'we need to talk'. yeah, we do talk, the background stuff, who am i, how many children i got, how many wives, what's up with me and the babymama, who is she, how many kids, where's the babyfather. she tells me she's married. fine. we discuss the nitty but all i want is to taste those lips and use my rubbers.
she kisses me occasionally in a kinky manner until i decide to take control and smooch her for real. she says she wants coffee but when i take to my feet to make it she holds me and says we must talk further. i gently pin her to the table and we kiss, i still sense reluctance on her part. we do this in intervals as the power keeps going on and off. at some stage it becomes really heated and i lift her to the bedroom and we sleep on the bed and tongue kiss with so much intensity she challenges me to unbuckle her belt which i oblige. i can feel the moment coming now, i'm looking at my pack of rubbers in the closet, she moans and invites me to poke her. i put my hand under her g-string and reach for her pussy, she's extremely wet and heated. i move my fingers around her clitoris which has swelled, move it down into her wet pussy, it just slides in. he bra had been stripped while we were in the living room and my tongue is sucking on her d-cups, the nipples are erect and my finger is poking her wet warm cunt, she's gasping, i have a serious hard on, my dick is forcing itself out of my pants. she suggests she wants to touch it, she's moaning, she does not want to touch it, in a moment i figure that she doesn't really know what she wants. i continue poking her. my concept is that once she's ready for penetration i will see when she takes off the pants herself. she doesn't get to it but suggests that i should stop. i do.
we move to the living room where she requests i help her with the bra, there's no light and she does it herself. the power is back and we go to the kitchen to make coffee which we drink in the bathroom. we finish our tea there and we walk out at around 21h20. as we walk out we meet some girl from my neighbourhood who makes sure that i see that she noticed us. i chat with her briefly and stroll the city to the hotel where alex is staying.
i rush back, as i enter the gate i see the same woman in her car about to light up and smoke with her two girlfriends. she calls me and we chat briefly as she's interested in knowing in which room am i staying. i tell her to call me about details as i disappear into the room.
the following morning at the iaj i meet alex briefly and that's it. i don't get to meet alex during the day. at the end of the class i get to the hotel and ask her if she has figured the way to my hotel and she says no. i volunteer to pick her again, in my mind this should be the day that she finally trusts me with her nudity. as i come down her street she's meeting me half way and we walk to my hotel. we enter the room, sit down and kiss a little. we watch television and talk a lot about stuff. alex tells me that her brother is going to visit her later in the evening.
we cut to the chase and get into intense kissing, takes off her jacket and we do it so intensely we move to the bedroom and she sucks my tongue so hard with a hunger i have never seen but whenever i reach for her buckle she stops me even though her d-cups are a go area. i move my tongue around her erect nipples. i have the most erect penis i have ever felt in a long while and it's just demanding to be let inside but again i'm waiting for her to make that move. she doesn't but says we should stop. we stop and i move to the kitchen to make coffee.
i go into the bathroom to look at my red eyes and to give them a water treatment and refresh. the coffee is fine and we sit down to sip. minutes later we are back to kissing, mostly because alex seems to be confused about what is it that she actually needs. when she told me that we can't do it for me it was done, there was not going to be any sex or anything resembling it. she's mounting me while i patch my ass on the edge of the sofa, d-cups out she looks edible as i occasionally strokes her breasts and lick them. we have the most intense talk in that position, it lasts for almost an hour, her legs parted, eyes digging into mine and occassional intense kissing. in the heat of one moment she asks me if she should give me a blowjob and given that i have a throbbing erection i say yes, she changes her mind but this time i have already unbuckled my belt and my dick is standing to attention. alex is reluctant as she goes down on it and sucks it with hunger while stroking my balls. now i feel the sensation and it's similar to her caress. she sucks me, i am happy and am enjoying it so much.
she takes to her feet in protest, i reach for her and kiss her gently while she's leaning with the wall, it gets intense and we move back and i want my blowjob, i sit on the handrest of a sofa and she blows me. she stops and says we should stop. i move her next to the desk, to sit her there and maybe go down on her with my tongue if she stips, she refuses. me, the eternal gentleman listens when she says we should stop and even volunteer to buckle her pants which i had undone. i put my dick back into my pants and help her dress up.
her phone rings and she has to go meet her brother two blocks down. we walk out after a brief kiss. along the way she tells me that someone shot pictures of us the day before and she found them in her room. i protests her story and tell her that if she's serious i have a friend who is a spook who can unravel the mystery. we find her brother and i leave them for my hotel.
when i get there i go to dinner and the girl from my neighbourhood wants to know if i'm already gone and i send to her saying '
no, i'm still around'. later i go to my room and sleep.
the following day i only see alex through the window as she goes out to have lunch. she's wearing a nice long dress and boots. i keep looking at her and something tells me she's aware of the view.
i only see her after 16h00 when they walk out, rushing for the shuttle and agree that we'll talk. when i get to the hotel she says she's going to be out with her brother and will buzz when she comes back from eldorado park. at eight i go for dinner, back in my room, take a bath, fetch blankets and lie on the sofa, pass out and wake up at 02h00. i reinforce on the blankets, check my phone for messages then go back to sleep. this is my last day here. i wake up in the morning and send my usual morning message to alex.
i leave joburg for bushbuckridge at 8h35. while in nelspruit she sends a message. later that night we chat. so we do the following day and the day after when she requests me to put together a short story about our exploits. i write the short story while we are having an sms conversation about us, wayforward, what's best for us, are we talking the same language, what language is that, are we for real, is it a game, is it a dream, what do we need to do to make it work?
i finish just after she told me to 'paste' the story instead of making it an attachment. time is 22h28
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The first quarter of 2010 ushered in the literary community another tight installment of wordsetc – that kid journal which is gradually growing into an adult. wordsetc aspires, justifiably so, to be the number one South African Literary Journal – the authority, the Bible in the same vein as the South African Medical Journal or Harvard Law Review. For this crisp read to become that heavyweight it needs to feature as many cross-cultural reads and content as possible. It needs to be a mirror that when a literature heads looks at sees white, blue, yellow, black, orange, white, Coloured, unColoured, red and Indian. This issue does that and even goes beyond. Actually eighteen contributors took their brushes and painted on this canvas.
There's a herdboy I have known since I was an eight years old. I saw him again last week. He looks 25 years old even though he is approaching 50 years. Now herdboys are not the smartest of folks. The only language they understand unreservedly is that of livestock. Herdboys can talk to animals in a language that is understood by both of them. They not only whistl but can call animals by their name and get responses.
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The big question of the year is, ‘does calling some dodgy fun-loving political deployee a General, Colonel or Lieutenant deter their potential for corruption?’ Well, I’m one of those who choose to differ and swim against the tide. At least POPCRU agrees with me on this one. I believe that even if former Interpol boss Jackie Selebi was called General he would still (according to evidence led in court) have accepted that Italian suit from convicted drug pusher and ‘.JPG)
Dear Mr. Nathi,
Here are the Local Organising honchos yesterday denying claims in media that they have enlisted the help of the Israelis to help snuff out suspicious characters during the FIFA World Cup in a few months' time. I am reading the story and I am like, 'why would Rich Mkhondo even entertain denying such'. That is because given what the Mossad has just done with their CCTV film of how they go about their job - tennis racquet in tow I would rather feel safer knowing those dodgy Jews are watching over me than a bunch of guys who did six months at a god-forsaken college in the outskirts of Tshwane.
We are a nation obsessed with the truths we can handle. We bury under the rubble of patriotism anything that exposes our vulnerabilities like the Ralushai Report on Traditional Leadership, Operation Dribble, Jali and Khampepe Commissions’ findings, Inquiry into Umkhonto we Sizwe Atrocities and Commission of Inquiry into Witchcraft in Limpopo. We settle for forums where liars can perjure and escape like the Desai, Harms, and Goldstone Commissions, SABC Commission of Inquiry into Blacklisting and Related Matters, Hefer and Truth and Reconciliation Commissions etc.
I am told that I live in a free country and I am born with a carte blanche to dream. Well, my new below the belt punch or potshot is directed at Darrel Roodt. Not for choosing sultry Jennifer Hudson to play Winnie Mandela because you don’t know what happens behind the curtains of casting suites. She's good as well; she had a small role in Sex And the City as Carrie's PA and was she wow! Instead of griping I decided to do like the Democratic Alliance (in alliance with who exactly?) and put together my shadow cast.
