Even skeletons need to be dusted off from their cupboard shelves and taken out for a walk sometimes.
And the company along the way is always appreciated.
‘Coz those bones get too heavy for just one person to hold.
And rather two people looking the fool walking around a park with their arms full of vertebrae, fibulae and tarsals, than one silly girl who’s a banana slice short of a fruit-salad.
end to begin
begin to end
unresolute.
these things we clutch
as the crutch.
we’d be braver to let go.
One more year has passed
With him insubstantial,
Buried under now seventeen anniversaries of resignation,
And the mantra Allah Has A Plan
And there’s a damn good reason why
I was given six nothing years
To know of the man
Who I see everyday
In my eyes
My nose of too much character
My dented chin.
One more year has passed,
With him substantial,
Buried under now seventeen anniversaries of definition,
And the slow steady work of
Walking through smoke of when
I was given six nebulous years
To know of the man
More with death than with life
And the spaces between
Who left me with Ludlums,
And a Bob Marley tie.
From: Sami Deckman (samideckmann@aim.com)
Date: Dec 11, 2006 7:35 PM
Subject: GOOD DAY TO YOUCompliments of the Day!
I am Mr.Sami Deckman former staff of Ministry of Tourism presently undergoing medical Treatment for cancer. I am the only surviving son of late Mr. Jeff Deckmann who worked with National Petroleum Corporation for many years as a contract enginer before he died in the year 2002 during the Ivorian political crisis,when his car was ambushed by a mob and he, my mother and my little sister were mobbed to death.
Since the death I decided to devort my life to God and the work of God. When my late Father was alive he deposited the sum of $1.5Million which was an upfront mobilisation payment for an onshore engineering contract awarded to him during the military regime. Gen.Robert Guei with one Bank in Europe.
But,as the regime collapsed and with the death of my father, the money has remained unclaimed.And i have been suffering from cancer,recently my doctor told me that my condition has worsened and i may not survive unless by special grace of God though what disturbs me most is that I am diagnosed to be having spinal abnormality.
For this I decided to donate the fund to a church or better still a God fearing individual that will use it for positive investment of which the profit will be used to support orphanage homes, widows and propagating the word of God,also to help me secure medical treatment in the western world were my illness can be better managed,after the funds might have been successfully transfered to you,if i am still alive.
I took this decision because I don’t have children that will inherit this money and my relatives are not Christians and had been maltreating me with the only motive to take away our properties including the funds hence I don’t want my father’s hard earned money to be misused by this unbelievers. I therefore request you to accept this proposal and help me to achieve my heart desire.
I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the lord one day. If you will be of assistance, I will surely appreciate and thank you for your kindness in giving me this help.
Thanks,
Sami Deckman
—
From: Saaleha
To: Sami Deckman
Date: Dec 12, 2006 3:49 PM
Subject: Re: GOOD DAY TO YOUDearest Sami Deckman,
And compliments of the day to you Deckman! You’re certainly a brave little soldier, quite chipper for a poor sod with cancer. Please accept my sympathies for the truly tragic and pathetic life station you are currently boarded at.
I am, however not a Christian. I follow the Protocols of The Temple of Former Day Chicken-Spring (wah-wah-good-stuff-higgledy-hey). I have ‘devorted’ my life to the Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo).
To follow in the Path of Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo) is to follow the path of Righteousness and Light. For centuries, our faith has been dumbed down by popular churches who offer Sunday night Bingo and free booze and crackers. Many once-fervent believers have been waylaid by these temptations and have lost the Path. May Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo) cluck upon them kindly and with great mercy. You see, even barbecue-bound sinners are redeemed by Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo)’s wings.
The Path of Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo) is the Path of Truth. Why else would everything taste like chicken? It is all in Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo)’s Great Wisdom and Final Plan.
Question: “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Answer: “To get to the other side.”
(excerpt from Book IIIVI of Good-Licking Fingers (Seventh Treatise) – Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goos)’s Good Eggs)Could the Truth be given any more clarity? The Other Side? Yes, Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo) is clear!
Save yourself brother!! Especially now in your final days!! Become one with Chicken, for the redemption of your poor oblivious sinner’s soul!!
BBQ-best wishes to you, May my humble efforts succeed in showing you the TRUE PATH.
wah-wah-good-stuff-piggeldy-poop greetings,
Saaleha.
P.S The Temple is undergoing renovations and your $1.5Million will go a long way in assisting us with the construction of the giant fibreglass representation of the head of Great Chicken (wah-wah-goody-goo).
We search for home
in the eyes of strangers
transient completion
in the arms
of those who fade
too soon.
We need no titles here
Our scars define us
Unoriginal though they may be.
Do you really want to see
me bare my soul and
its cigarette burns
how they mirror the lesions from the
acid she threw in your eyes?
We hurt as we love,
don’t we?
testing depth,
punching holes
where we think we need the light.
breaking as we build,
and wondering why
they always leave.
the monsters
they cower from
wearing our names.
i won’t search for
the sleep you lost,
or the words
spent in my way,
one day you’re gonna tell a friend
chorus:
one day you’re gonna say,
there she goes,
there she goes,
the one that got away.
i wont count the
calls you never made,
or the songs i liked
you never played,
one day you’re gonna tell it straight,
chorus:
one day you’re gonna say,
there she goes,
there she goes,
the one that got away
the one that got away (repeat to fade)
The coffee cup placed in front of me has an authentic granny-crocheted doily beneath it. This is Bloemfontein.
I’m sharing a tuna tramezzini at De Rebus in the city centre with Sally and Anina, tannies* who are the encyclopedic reference to the concept. Anina reminds me of a tropical bird, brightly feathered in a blue suit, ornamented with chunky baubles and the most elaborate eye makeup I’ve ever seen; stripes of bronze and azure with shadings of a lilac-marine accenting the outer corners of her lids. Sally is simpler and wholesome, like a bowl of oats.
“Are you married Saaleha,” they ask in that concerned inquiring inflection. While their questions are warmed by their Afrikaans intonations, the tone could belong to Aunty Khadijah in Lenasia or Sandringham’s Beryl Rabinowitz.
I reply in the negative and steer the conversation towards Anina’s weekend church camp and Sally’s teenage son who gets irritated when she asks him technology related questions.
We speak about traditional Afrikaans upbringing, and I draw parallels with my own small-town Muslim-Indian molding. Discussing the death of conservatism is inevitable, and I’m somewhat saddened that while we stride positively forward, we tend to leave behind the modesties of the old-fashioned.
My return flight to Johannesburg is delayed by two hours because of inclement weather. I bemoan my fate to anyone who’ll listen on mxit, “Pansy pilots scared of a little drizzle. What happened to gung-ho bravado?”.
I bought From My Sister’s Lips by Na’ima Robert earlier that morning before departure, and to file down time, I lose myself in the sincere testimonies of these women and their heartfelt and soul-driven submission to the Will of God. I’m suddenly ashamed of my own stubbornness and begin to strike off what were in fact pyrrhic victories gained in my jihadunnafs. Aluta Continua.
Eating eats time, and carrot cake seems like the best way to move along the process. I think of diets and gym routines and then I realise, we all want to lose in order to gain societal approval. What kind of world do we live in, when we have to be less in order for people to like us more? That was my in-transit musing of the day.
It feels like I’ve been born in this airport, time is so still and vacuumed. I want Home.
But the rain smells earthier in Bloem, like Gaia spilled over her bottle of eau de toilette and a rainbow on the runway reminds me that patience is still very much a virtue in a drive-thru world.
*tannies: afrikaans word for Aunts
Name was Valentine,
Baby, be mine,
Said I was sweet,
Oh, would be neat,
If we could cruise
Sometime.
Name was Valentine,
Get in the line,
Said I was sweet,
Oh, what a treat,
If we could bruise,
Sometime.
Name was Valentine,
Girl, you’re fine
Said I was sweet,
Skip that beat,
If we could rhyme
Sometime.
