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Regarding the renewed, more grave, xenophobic violence rocking major cities of the land at the moment, on the ground, enlightened and critically thinking South Africans know that there is more to South Africans’ apparent envy over foreign nationals’ business acumen, as well as their apparent resultant financial success. There aren’t many social interaction spaces as revelatory of the true colours of individual and collective human behaviour and attitudes as in places of trade, market places. It’s only natural, therefore, that when shit hits the fan, as is the case with the current xenophobic hassle in South Africa, it will be in and around retail business outlets … (Continued in the book: “MACHONA AWAKENING – home in grey matter”. Order book on Amazon).
April 18, 2015
HOME AT LAST! Part 3
Friends, Families, Comrades in Exile
I guess I, like everyone else, can be bad to people; it is not beyond me to do real bad things to people. There are some who go limping around, thinking that evil doings are prerogative of only certain people by virtue of their names, tribes, races, nationalities, religions, and faiths, as well as their mental and physical dispositions. People are bad; people are good; that’s just the way we are. That’s how we roll. Just cross the lines … (Continued in the book: “MACHONA AWAKENING – home in grey matter”. Order book on Amazon’s CreateSpace here).
March 12, 2014
STILL RIVER RUNNING DEEP
Mmamahloko1 is my name. I bear profound sorrows. I carry inside of me profuse pain. I wonder what my fate would have turned out to be had I been named Mmathabo2 instead? The lady is a factory of joy. Next life I want to return as a rose.
Every time I see a man split a log I involuntarily cry painfully inside. I lay there spread-eagled on my back, feeling very cold, most vulnerable and exposed like a log. As the first animal got into me I felt the axe ram into the log. A chain saw sight trembles my body so I feel as though the body disintegrates into old barks falling off the trunk of a giant tree of ages.
By the time the fifth animal got into me I was in such excruciating pain I didn’t care any more. No one held my arms or my legs stretched out any more. I felt dirty and wasted, much like a log that’s travelled a thousand kilometres down a river. It felt that overwhelmingly wet too. And the smells were the most unbearable. My vomit didn’t help much either. Each ejaculation felt like a litre of sulphuric acid pouring between my legs. My womanhood was burned beyond repair.
“What shall we do now?” I heard a distant voice say.
“Just kick her some more, and leave her behind this shrub here. Even if she doesn’t die, she won’t talk,” another voice said faintly.
I am not sure if they heard me. I am not sure if I did manage to utter a word at all either. But I do recall imploring them to kill me, because life is not worth living after this extremely brutal abuse. “Burn me up, please!” I begged. But I was left alone, dirty-wet, and unattractive. Unladylike. I remember deciding to die from all this.
Somehow I found myself standing in front of this massive opaque glass door on the edge of a mountain. The door slowly slid open to the side and I ran through, only to find myself running on clouds … (Continued in the book: “MACHONA BLOGS – As I See It”. Order Simon Chilembo books on Amazon)
February 15, 2013
DEDICATED TO CHILEMBO HEROINES, ALL MOTHERS, AND SISTERS OF THE WORLD. IN MEMORY OF ANENE BOOYSEN.
1Mahloko (Sesotho): Pain(s) – anguish – sorrow – grief.
2Thabo (Sesotho): Joy – happiness.
In response to Dear Jonathan ‘Balls of Steel’ Shapiro
I choose not to judge or condemn. Unfortunately I neither recall the title nor the author, but in this sex psychology book I read as a teenager, the writer crushed hard the myths around male musterbation and sodomy (e.g. hair growth in hands, lunacy, etc.). He basically argued that an erect dick is only interested in ejaculating and giving the body of the owner this powerful, addictive sweet sensation. The dick has no brains, doesn’t think therefore. This means that essentially the dick does not know the difference between the vagina and other orifices; it will respond to any appropriate stimulatory touch/ sensation leading to orgasm. Similarly, the vagina does not know the difference between a dick and any other identical and functional object by shape and design; it simply responds to any appropriate form of stimulatory touch/ sensation also.
Because it is the owners of the sexual organs who have the brains, and can supposedly think therefore, sexual desire and its attendant ultimate fulfilment by any means has to be a prerogative of the former. We should therefore lead our dicks, and not the other way round. So, the metaphor is that if you are a dick you are in deep trouble ‘cause you have no brains, you can’t think, and you are driven by primordial instincts culminating in a vicious cycle of lust and potential deceit. In a society of ethics and morals, rules and laws to regulate human behaviour, dick-heads do not have an easy time coming indiscriminately around.
In a world I know well, one of definitions of being a man is not about how much pussy the man’s dick conquers at any cost, but how much resistance to temptation the man teaches his dick to show, no matter how easy-come-easy-go pussy may be.
The REAL SPEAR is here: The Spear Lives, Part 2
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13/ 07- 2012