I would have been the one

Sweat flowing from my dreadlocks, rolling down to my neck licking my grey collar and  loosening my tight black tie; I hopped Johannesburg streets heading to Bree taxi rank. I had knocked off a little bit late, but I was okay with time. My worry was getting home late for The Closer.

I would have been the one, Solange Knowles tormented my ears. I loved it. Enlightening charmer sent from where a Casanova lovely glare and I was chosen, I was there. To the whoreous doors of the rank I was appealing, as always, and so I let them swallow me. I saw my taxi and headed straight to it. I was tired but surety of how good looking I was carried me towards the transport to my destination. And yes, the fact that one day I will pass this building with a very expensive little thing rolling on four wheels inspired the strut in my walk.

Down with the headphones, I got inside the taxi and sat right behind the driver next to a guy who looked at me like I was some kind of fruit waiting to be eaten selfishly. I am sure he had never seen a creature so full of himself. Bless this poor guy’s perplexity.

I settled on the seat, sorted my fare and put back on my headphones. The well gets deeper, more unfolds. And then appeared a very dirty boy. He was dirty and I could smell him. He was a boy because he looked nothing like the man I am.  With the corner of my left eye I saw his lips move. I lacked interest in him since I knew he was most likely begging. Yes he was. I thought you plus me divided me from him but I discovered many more, and again and again...

Like a typical beggar, he attempted to look so sincere. I felt sorry for the few inside the taxi who had no music to drown into. I was far away. Or so I thought. And you don’t know you fill many spaces.

I could hear a sound. No, never mind the skinny Knowles; it was a voice that somehow merged into the song just fine, building a sound I would only imagine Euphonik and Black Coffee to produce. It went so well with what was enthralling my ears.

And he don’t know how he’s stole many places. And we all know we can’t fix him even if we tried.  I would have been the one. The boy was clapping. His lips were still on the move, only this time he seemed to be uttering fast and with passion.

I freed my left ear because I had to hear what he was cheering for. Ngiyakwaz’ ukukhanya kwakho, nokulunga kwakho, Jesu wam, Jesu wam, zungangishiyi la... He was singing; a song I got to know and fell in love with when times were extremely bad in my life.

I was boy, and had run away from a suburb I stayed in to a shack in which I had to share a blanket with six other children and could only eat twice a day. I left what everyone thought was the best life in exchange for a shack in an area where your neighbour’s door was practically two feet away from your and in your face!

Phelisa ukwesaba kimi, nokungakholwa. Msindisi, oh msindisi zungangishiyi la... There I was, with my Blackberry and its R400 worth headphones, comfortably and deliberately ignoring the boy in front of me. One would have sworn I was never poor and that I was rich.

I was the one, yes I was the one and yes that was my name inked up on his arm...Keyword was, yes I was the one. I figured out he was empty on my own. He had to find the answer in something not someone. The man beside me poked me waving a R10 note in my face. So I freed my right ear paying attention to the man I had puzzled earlier. He wanted change because he wanted to give this boy R5. It is fine, I will give him for you, I said. Guilt was there and only then did sympathy grow. This boy was me 10 years ago, only he was worse.

And we all know we can’t fix him even if we tried.  I would have been the one. My hand sank inside my Nedbank bag and came out with a Mr Price wallet. I took out the gold coin, handed it over to the boy. He refused it.

Ngicela ningishayeleni izandla, he said smiling and then walked away.

Solange Knowles was still playing, but it was as if there was still silence in the car. Maybe there was or maybe I was switched off reality – again - attached on a bubble inspired by the money I carelessly spend and the life I am never grateful for.

Those who were attuned with the world clapped. I could have betrayed my pride and ridiculed my ignorance by applauding as well, but the buttered sliced bread I had had for lunch that day was still fresh in my mind. What a hypocritical blessed creature I was; oblivious so prematurely of a journey I had had.

Yehova, ndicela Uxolo...

Happy read!

My boys of miscarriage

I lied to myself so many times, when I was single, and said I am NOT looking. Love will find me, I would say. But deep down in me, I knew I was looking for the one person with whom I can talk about things that other people hardly understand nor find interesting.

I went out with friends at night and on weekends; drank, laughed and ate all the fattening food. I socialised and met new friends some of whom felt like I was too much of a pink diamond to be single. So, I was hooked up -unwillingly- many times with other single sheeps. Though disappointing in so many levels at times, the experience was fun and very insightful.  

I met men – and boys - I felt were the right ones. With some, I slept, I had sex and I loved. Many of whom proved to fall for me for the many get-togethers I am loved for. Clearly, boy eyed guaranteed entrance tickets – to a house I do NOT even own - whenever yours truly felt Oprah-ish and fed the ‘nation’; making it rain while he would come in with arms folded. I am guessing his wallet had one big hole through which his cents escaped on his way to mine.

The last one though, boy I mean, was a figure my friends felt was the most ludicrous relation I have ever pursued. He liked me and I liked him back. He had deep issues and I had to have tissues always. Of course, I had problems too.

Nonetheless, he was not a hard tiff to swallow. Or so I thought. He left me bending picking up my jaw when he had no shame sharing with me that his ex did not only have horse of a pipe, but he –my boy- was the only one whom the ex told could take it all in...

Yes, I was single and in like, but I was not foolish that I would dip my being in a hole that had taken in objects dubbed to be larger and bigger than my arm. Besides, I had an ego to grow NOT to bruise it. Imagine, me humping and pumping a ride with someone who’d probably be focusing on how slow my beard is growing.

Oh, what a loss though. But he left me with a lesson; never take too lightly petite boys, particularly those who compliment me every chance they get.

All the same, the one before him was another tale to be reckoned. A song I would have chosen Amy Winehouse to sing. I and he were what many considered a match-made in heaven. However, we both knew we were nothing like that. Instead, we were simply lusting for each other.

I told him many times how much I wanted him. I don’t care what everyone thinks of you, I want you, I would say. He would touch me and get playful with me in public and he let me kiss him whenever I wanted to.

Yet, it appeared he had not only been touchy and playful with me. Right across my house, my coloured neighbour knew him. In fact, my neighbour and his friends knew him very well. He had photos to prove it. I saw the photos, he was right; they knew him seeing that we all had seen him.

Happy read!