New Words

New and unfamiliar words always have a peculiar way of interesting me. English is my second language but whenever I read a book and come across a strange word, I never brush it aside and pass it by. Neither do I just assume the meaning from the context within which the word has been used.  New words spark up a deep curiosity within me.  They conjure varying possibilities in my mind and hence perturb the mind from further focus in the very act of reading. Malcolm X read the dictionary from A to Z and I assume that by so doing, he was preparing himself from the dilemma that unfamiliar words can rouse. I contemplate doing this.

Soldier Boy (Extract)

Neo stepped in. To Kgotla’s eyes, she walked in slow motion. Her elegant body was dressed in a magnificent outfit. She walked towards the bed, glamorous in every way. She did not smile, yet her face rippled with astounding beauty. Like spring rain, tears coursed down her cheeks. Kgotla tried to stand up but the casts would not let him. The doctor sneaked out and disappeared. Neo looked at Kgotla through tear filled eyes and smiled for the first time. He smiled back, like a child at the sight of candy. She leaned over the bed and their lips locked in an explosive bang. They kissed vehemently. Careful not to step on his healing limbs, she climbed on the bed and lay by his side. None of them had spoken a word. Neo pulled the blankets and burrowed underneath. They faced each other, heads pressed on the same pillow, faces nearly touching. Neo opened her mouth to speak. “Shhh...” Kgotla whispered. “Hush, don’t say a word. Don’t even lift that head off the pillow. I love it when your eyes look at me that way. I’d like to wake up like this every morning. So sleepy, your eyes, yet they melt the marrow in my bones.” Neo’s succulent lips twitched in a tiny, almost hesitant smile. For a fleeting moment her teeth sparkled like diamonds and briskly disappeared behind the luscious lips. She snuggled closer to him, the fabric of her dress brushing against his skin. Kgotla shuddered. She carefully pulled him closer and locked her hands around him. In no time, they were both fast asleep, in each other’s comfort. 

This is an extract from my short story, 'Soldier Boy.' It's yet another attempt at a romantic tale that tells of a young man whose life is infested by harsh challenges including unemployment and lack of financial stability. Although he's performed exceptionally well at university, earning himself an outstanding degree, he continues to roam the streets. He questions the value of education and begins to doubt the cliché, Education is the Key. Just when things turn out positively for him, just when he anticipates a better future, just when he thought he found the love of his life, he comes crashing down again - this time harder than he ever did. What is life? What is love?

Soldier Boy is a re-write of what used to be called Tears of a Soldier, and then later changed to The Soldier. It's been rewritten several times and the title Soldier Boy seems to fit well, for now. I hope it sticks.  

The End (Extract)

Quixotic I was, perhaps. I remember this particular night. You were in my arms and me in yours, feeling so snug. Red light glowed in my room, bathing us in a warm, amorous red illumination. Oh, how I despise this colour now. Anyway, there we were, entangled in peace and divine love. I recited you a poem. I know you remember this. It’s strange that when I was with you, I turned into a novice poet. No one else knew about this little poet in me, but you, my love. So you listened to my poem on that night. Rain sluiced languidly over the rooftop of my bungalow, a gentle caress of nature. It slithered down the windowpane as if in praise of our love. You absorbed every word and rhyme from my mouth. Then I saw it - the tear, like a tiny diamond on your eyelash. You cried and that touched my heart like it never did before. I kissed your tears dry. You cried because you felt the love. But sadly, it turned out that my love or poems couldn’t buy you clothes. My love or poems couldn’t pay your bills. They couldn’t take you to the movies or aristocratic restaurants. So, to hell with my love and poems! You decided to leave. 


Extract from my upcoming short story, 'The End.' Unlike 'Black Diamond,' which is an action-packed suspense thriller, 'The End' is a monologue, letter-style type of story. It's heavily emotional and touches on dense issues of a love-affair gone sour, feelings of dislocation, abandonment  and betrayal. It is also laden with political commentary told by a depressingly suicidal voice. 

I just completed this story and starting on another one titled 'Soldier Boy.' Keep watching this space. As a school teacher, a month-long vacation is a writing-vacation for me. I have to use it to the maximum! Peace and love to you...

Family Problems (Adopted)

Two men met at a bus stop and struck up a conversation. One of them kept complaining of family problems. Finally, the other man said: 

"You think you have family problems? Listen to my situation, A few years ago, I met a young widow with a grown-up daughter and we got married. Later my father married my stepdaughter. That made my stepdaughter my stepmother and my father became my stepson. Also, my wife became mother-in-law of her father-in-law. Then the daughter of my wife, my stepmother, had a son. This boy was my half-brother because he was my father's son, but he was also the son of my wife's daughter which made him my wife's grand-son. 

That made me the grand-father of my half-brother. This was nothing until my wife and I had a son. Now the half-sister of my son, my stepmother, is also the grandmother. This makes my father the brother-in-law of my child, whose stepsister is my father's wife, I'm my stepmother's brother-in-law, my wife is her own child's aunt, my son is my father's nephew and I'm my own grandfather!

Shoo, and you think you have family problems!"

Black Diamond

“Perfect. You see, the government and I are both thieves. But I’m a better thief. These guys are kleptomaniacs. Stealing is in their blood. They have numerous operations going on by which they rob the poor - from taxes to school fees. You even pay for the air you breathe. This is what I call a kakistocracy government,” he smiled and crashed the cigarette stub. “You know what that word means?”
            Thabo shook his head.
“It means a government led by the worst citizens. Such is our government.”  

I'm currently working on this story. It's called Black Diamond. I've always had this idea of writing an adventure thriller but couldn't just come up with a plot. Then I remembered an English composition I once wrote in high school. It was called The Hidden Cave. Black Diamond is inspired by that composition , or maybe I should say it's a development of The Hidden Cave. I hope it turns out to be a master piece. 

A Very Good Morning

Shhh.... hush, don’t say a word. Don’t even lift that head off the pillow. I love it when your eyes open and first thing they see is my face. So sleepy, your eyes, yet they melt the marrow in my bones. You twitch your succulent lips in a tiny, almost hesitant smile and I burn inside. For a fleeting moment your teeth sparkle like diamonds and briskly disappear behind those luscious lips. God is indeed Great. You snuggle closer and I feel your skin slide against mine. I shudder...  

A Poem Trapped (Poem)

I wake up with pulsating green rage
Kick the blankets, take my pen and attack my page
Pen pours crimson venom across the white surface
Paper shrinks from acidic bite, leaving tattered and wrinkled space
My blood boils, nerves pump and it itches in every bone
Head pounds and lips burn for the microphone
From my stomach rises scalding bile
I pant and wheeze, though I haven’t walked a mile
Fists slam the hard concrete wall
Like an animal body feels trapped in a kraal
A poem captured and bound inside
Punching and kicking to break free and leap outside...