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Other Articles from The Villager

Not over yet...but a good year


by Jeremiah Ndjoze
Columns

 

I wish I could write this piece in Afghanistan. So that I could ensure that my career goes out with a bang! Unfortunately I could not make the trip. Lest I fail to afford my chicken for Christmas, so yes I’ll be here again next week and who knows, I might just give you another reason to hate me.
Who wouldn’t if the biggest part of the time we spend together this year I cramped your style with my smelly boots. Oh and speaking of smells, in less than a month from now the church will be smelly. And no, not of my smelly boots but of new clothes people. You know us the real people go on shopping sprees for ‘Christmas’ clothes. Kind of hard for some of us folks who have to split the lean cheque between this and the frothy stuff that fun is made of. But still if we don’t spent a few of our dimes on Christmas clothes than the kids will be angry. And we all know what happens in the bedroom when the kids are not happy.
So yeah...man’s got to compromise...whatever that means. You know, one of those words that were created in order to control men. I don’t know why all these words have to end with ‘mise.’ First the infamous ‘condomise’ phrase was imposed on us. Apparently for good reason, you know for people not be victi’mise’d. But be aware that were the ‘condomise’ word ends is where the ‘compromise’ word starts. Long and short of it, the struggle continues. And what we have doing this year, I’m proud to say. We won on some fronts and lost on others. Take Jericho for example.            
I mean, I just like it when black brothers are doing well for themselves. Not racist but since I was born in the eighties I’ve seen enough ‘koevoet’ to turn me into a racist hater. So, screw the racist. Anyways, I saw Jericho dishing out bank notes at a local drink out this week – well you gotta love it man because he was giving them to a couple of hobos – also known as the homeless. Who cares if he met them all in jail? The dude did good, period! At least we saw some good in the man than we saw on his girlfriend’s face when she was given that bashing. Yes and there was no ugly. Not as much as we saw on Jay Twizzle’s face in the wake of the GMP altercation. I just love it. I love good things.  
And also love it when people takes crap within their and move on. More so, if it’s behind some situation that makes them seems like scum. So big ups to the Lash Attractions studios. I suggest we use the spot to record a remix of Tupac’s song called, “I ain’t mad at ya.” Yes, such hits normally take the fun out of the beef. So nobody will get an orgasm in celebration. I mean who gives them folks the right to judge. (oops, smack in my big mouth there).
But I love it when people lands in chicken poop over some allegations and still manage not to swallow the feathers. Ask the The Dogg and Gazza.  
At least Dogg managed to remain a dog and didn’t go all catty. Well Catty Catt did and it didn’t prove to be a good venture. But I’m glad the cut is still purring.
We all can’t stand people using guns on Sundays, especially not if they were named after the very day. But to some not every Sunday is a holyday so for once I’ll...its their stuff.  
My friend Jossy Joss made promises he didn’t keep as well and no, winning Big Brother Africa wasn’t one of them. So, no big expectations there from us, dude did just fine. Honestly, you don’t win BBA by reading novels in the BBA house. Not if your little brother is called Jameson. Case of mistaken identity and we’re on a trip to the local dumpsite – with all the novels.
We’ve got better things to read, especially now that the Middlefinga has resurfaced in the Metro. Just too bad there’s not much to write about local politicians since Joseph Kauandenge remained in the political desert. Well the songs came out but the manifestos, bra...what happened? Shaking a knee on national TV is fun, but vakwetu we want some political satire. There’s nothing for us to laugh at now since comrade Ngurare got himself a doctorate degree. Osama kicked the bucket and Gaddafi was killed, not on the golden shitter in his million dollar toilet but in a ditch.
All in all we had a good year. Too bad my wallet is still empty. Need a killer strategy for all of us. check this space next week.