Twelve Monkeys

By Abigail George

I’ve made mistakes. More than a few. I haven’t always apologised for my behaviour, for the mistakes I made, the wrong journey I took, the path less travelled. I am broken inside. I sometimes feel numb and dead inside when I exercise. Especially when I exercise. When I’m stressed out, I exercise a lot. I watch films. I read poetry. I write poetry. But these days it just feels as if I can’t carry out the simplest of tasks. I feel that nobody really loves me for me. I think of Elvis, I think of Sinatra, I think of Sammy Davis Junior. I think of their friendship. The bonds between them. They were brothers. They had each other’s backs. They looked out for one another. They loved each other. I do not know what love is. Growing up my mother loved herself. Narcissist I think is the correct term. Always in heels and a G-string. Sexed up. My father was an absent father by all accounts. But, to all intents and purposes he gave me a happy life, a happy childhood. So, I am taking the memories wherever I go. Wherever, whenever, and I mean the happiest memories I’ve had, I still have, are the moments I spent with my father. Eating ice cream, going to the beach, visiting the clinical psychologist, buying the month’s groceries, playing under his desk at work. My father’s friends were my friends. The people that knew my father, knew me from a young age. Precocious and cute, always wanting to make people with sad eyes laugh, and if I couldn’t get them to laugh, I would get them to smile at least. When I was born before the eighties, George Botha passed away that year, from an apparent suicide. Biko slipped on a bar of soap. Then there’s Dulcie.

Dulcie September (I wonder what her children would have been like, her husband, would she have settled in London, married a man who had green, or blue eyes. Rick Turner was assassinated by a man with a gun (they haven’t found him yet), Kevin Carter was killed by a stray bullet as he was taking pictures of the unrest in the townships during the brutal heights of the heyday of apartheid. Political activists of colour were being arrested at every turn. Turn the corner, walk in the opposite direction someone, someone would be following you. The Americans I think termed that phrase Big Brother is watching you, or else it could have been anyone really. I’m young, but I have an old soul. Yes, I read poetry. Yes, I read books too. Basically, anything I can get my hands on. I love getting my hands dirty in the kitchen. The cake flour, the dough I eat off my fingers, dust the doughnuts with icing sugar, or cocoa, keeping busy, busy, busy, trying not to think, trying not to think of anyone, or anything. It is a long, long way to Rapunzel, Rimbaud, Verlaine, Proust, Nabokov, Salinger, Rilke, Akhmatova, and Coco Chanel. It is an even longer distance to Billy Graham, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Walter Sisulu, Oliver Tambo, Neville Alexander, Fikile Bam, Patrice Motsepe, ex-president Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela, ex-president Thabo Mbeki, ex-president Jacob Zuma, and president-elect Cyril Ramaphosa. Then I think of the land of the free, and the home of the brave, and the American presidents (the leaders of the free world), George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, JFK, Thomas Jefferson, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump.

Nobody knows anything really about their childhood. Rapunzel, like all fairy tales, like the Native Americans, and the Eastern Cape poets Ayanda Billie, Robert Berold, Brian Walter, Mzi Mahola, the late Arthur Nortje, the late Dennis Brutus, Mxolisi Nyezwa, they are all frozen in the snow of my memory. I want people to love me. Just like my dad. People love daddy. People loved daddy. But inside I am sad. I am not even loved in my own home. My mother hates me. How to get over the mental cruelty, her un-loveliness to me over the years, her utter humiliation of me when she saw how close me and dad were getting. She was in the house, put on a disappearing act whenever I appeared. I tell myself that nobody loves me. That I’m a rubbish-throw-away-type of person. Nobody should associate themselves with me. I have no self-esteem, then low self-esteem. Sleep around. No, not really. I just give expert hand jobs, and I never kiss. Never. Too intimate, it makes me feel vulnerable, and when you kiss someone there are just so many levels to it, you know. The first kiss. Well, you always remember that. You always remember the person who first kissed your lips. And after that, after that you open your warm mouth (I think of everything as an experiment, an adventure, an exploration of sorts). They have all gone out into the world now. The wives have done what is impossible for me. Given the boys children. That, that, that right there is too much for me to take, to handle, although I know I will survive. Believe me, I survive without cocaine and alcoholism, without sexuality and the sexual transaction (as Jean Rhys said in After Leaving Mr Mackenzie).

I endure with the best of them. I love like the greats. The great singer and songwriters (the late Karen Carpenter), musicians (Lenny Kravitz, Fiona Apple). I too have been careless with the hearts of delicate people. Some have moved on with their lives, and have forgotten all about me. I pretend to wake up in the mornings to the legends that the boys have become. They are men who rule empires now. They have forgotten all about me, forsaken me for money, prosperity, prestige, status (I’m mixing up my similes here). I miss them. I miss them like crazy. I wish I was back there, not here. Each and every day in Johannesburg was either a summer-ish day, or winter. I wish I was in love again, but I’m not. I’m a wreck. Still the same wreck I was 20 years ago. I’m growing older. I’m in my forties now. What a terrible age. The onset of menopause, flashbacks to a time and place when you were happier, when you could afford to make mistakes, behave foolishly, and love, love, love, and dance the night away with multiple partners on your arms, but I didn’t know about the world. Didn’t know anything about the world. So, mothers, be good to your daughters. They will learn to love like you do. I don’t know anything about that. I don’t know anything about love. I can smoke, I can drink when I hang out with the guys. I love men. Women ignore me. Women talk down to me. Women humiliate me in front of their children, mother-in-law, and especially, especially their boyfriends, their husbands, life partners. You know that kind of girl. You know that kind of woman. She’s beautiful, exceptional-looking.

She dresses down, she dresses up. I’m that kind of woman now. Can someone hear my plea? Anyone, anyone? Anyone out there? All I ever wanted was for my mother to tell me how much she loved me, how proud she was of me, and she didn’t. Still doesn’t to this day. And I hate violence of any kind, even in films. I still believe in what Walt Disney proclaimed. It is my mantra still to this day. I believe in family values. I guess it is the principle behind it. Norms and values. Growing up with norms and values. A kind of belief system, even though I did go to Sunday School, and memorise Bible verses, and was indoctrinated into religion by the Union Congregational Church, (I’m not religious anymore, although I still pray, still meditate, believe in reconciliation, and as such there is evil in the world, but there is also the greater good). Anyway, I am much more of a spiritual person now, from an early age I believed in angels. Truth for some, but not truth for all. I believe in the qualities of a good Christian, Brahmin, Yogi, Hindu, Muslim, Lutheran, Baptist, Methodist, and Catholic. All religions hold truth at the cornerstones of their foundation. So, instead of making war, think instead (this is for all the world leaders, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters out there), make peace (keep the peace in the house, reconcile your differences, sit at the table and break bread, talk about your day, don’t isolate yourself from either your family, or your community). Be kind. You can kill with kindness you know. Today that person could be your enemy, tomorrow (as the ancients, prophets, saints, angels say) that same enemy could be your friend.

Money and wealth won’t make you beautiful. Inner beauty, understanding and understanding devotion to others less fortunate than yourself, the marginalised, downtrodden, those living in poverty-stricken areas in dire straits give them your peace too, and something to eat. The game of life is made up of winners and losers. The loser always forgets about the lesson that they have learned. The winner takes it all. Always remember it is how you play the game. Life is precious. People are precious too. We are only human at the end of the day. Once, they said that someday technology will surpass humanity. Code breakers, the women and men who serve countries around the world, and who are willing to sacrifice their lives for millions of people). I think also of scientists like Sir Isaac Newton, Niels Bohr, Max Planck, Pavlov, Albert Einstein, Marie Curie (twice-winner) of the Nobel Prize. I think of researchers dealing with computers, information communication technology, indigenous knowledge systems, the great digital divide between the haves and the have nots (first world countries and third world countries). I think of intellectuals like Pliny the Elder, Aristotle, Hippocrates, Homer, and Plato. Isn’t every intellectual an authority on philosophy, education, subjects as diverse and varied (Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo), as the holistic vision of an educationalist, community leader, humanist, activist, volunteer, just as much as a person can be plumber, he can also be a storyteller (everybody has a story to tell), and a poet. His name can be Yusuf Agherdien, Ambrose Cato George, and Shaheed Hendricks.

(The writers of the book South End: As We Knew It, although District Six in Cape Town is more well-known when it comes to the promulgation of the Group Areas Act). They can even be the curator, and a writer-visionary-maverick of the world-famous museum, the South End Museum, that has its roots in Saint Helena. An island in the middle of the ocean, that could only in the past be reached by a Royal Mail Ship that sailed from Cape Town to Saint Helena. Are we still slaves, our minds enslaved by oppression and racism, prejudice and gangsterism, the abuse of alcohol and mental cruelty? It has become a global phenomenon. It has become a buzzword. In my mind, we are all then victims of circumstance, of trauma, of incidents that happened in our childhood. And yes, we fall prey to evil deeds, and evil thoughts, we sin, and sometimes we pray and ask for forgiveness, and sometimes we don’t. We don’t learn the lesson; we would rather abscond. Go our own way. For some of us, this is all we know. Running away from loss and grief, denial and instigation, and when we do that we are motivated by our own fear, anxiety, even insanity (which means two things, break from reality, or non-reality).  When you’re in high school all you want to do is hang with the popular crowd, go out with the most popular boy in school, obtain high marks, achieve on the sports field and inside the classroom. I was an obsessive-compulsive achiever, and the only people I wanted to impress were the women in my family. The women make babies, and stay at home, cook and clean, raise their family, but in my world the husband was always marrying the mistress.

We know the affect that climate change has had on the seasons, harvests, running water, rain, sanitation, and it spells disaster in all areas. Floods, tornadoes, tsunamis, storms, drought which affects our farmers, and particular our agriculture all over the world. I digress. I come back to those two words again. Global phenomenon. We are reaching a climatic stage of events in world history. Ask yourself these questions, think about them, ponder them as you would any project that is highly creative, and imaginative, that needs you to focus, and concentrate. Put all your energies into it, as you would your children’s lives, and your husband’s or wife’s welfare. What is your legacy, will it be hidden from view, or be there for all to see? What is your calling, your purpose in life, what are you extremely passionate about (I must have asked myself these questions thousands of times, and so, no, I’m not exaggerating)? What are your empirical dreams, lofty goals, pre-imminent plans? Are you concerned about the spiritual welfare of others, as I am?

The Unseen Blossom by Zlaikha Y. Samad and L’Mere Younossi

The Unseen Blossom is a story that is both magical and a love story. The story is about Princess Zuli and Lamar, a shoemaker in Kabul. They are both chosen to go on an enchanted journey to find the elusive blossom of the Fig Tree. Along the way they go through gardens of enchanted trees, plants, animals and fish. They have realized that in another life, their souls have been interwoven to be soulmates for eternity. Their role is to learn how to bring unity and peace to their world. This is the most wonderful and delightful story that is perfect for any age. The message in the book is completely relevant in today’s world. We can all learn from its message of unity, peace and love.

The Unseen Blossom is available here.

Crack His Head  Push him down. Crack his head like an egg, blood yolk on the cement. Push the old man down on the pavement. Dominate, so shameful.  Was that worth it? Really? Is that your training? Push old men down. Protester down, peaceful protester down, his blood on your hands.  A slap on the wrist, paid leave, is that punishment for assault? Captive Wind  You cannot hold the wind captive. If it dies, it will kick back up later. It will pick up the pace in a hill, gently at first. When going downward, pity to those who stand in its path. Do not take it lightly. You cannot hold the wind captive for too long. Its ghostly breeze will topple you. Its memory will be imprinted in your thoughts. If you fear the wind, you better bundle up to the neck. It will leave you in misery. It is a sea wave on land, and it could strike softly or with immense cruelty. It will slap your forehead like a backhand. The wind does not play. You cannot hold the wind captive. It will make a great escape and bring silence a world of sounds. Drowning in Fire  As if drowning in fire, burning through and through, it is clear that passion and desire are running through my veins. No amount of water can slow down this inferno. Night cannot cool me off. The water in the moon is not cold enough. Like a burnt stone under ashes I remain. I am a shadow of flames burning like stars. My passion and desire are burning for her. I throw myself into a lake of fire and I go down to the deepest depths. I come up still burning from head to foot. I take my agony to the frozen lake, halfway from the frozen mountain. A flaming shadow follows. I close my eyes and she is still there, the woman that I burn for.  She is there when I am fast asleep in my sub-conscience, in my dreams, she is the burning woman, and I am the burning man, burning in splendor.

Article Title: The ‘CV’ Effects

The Genesis of what commenced in a suburban community of China has been described and called by some as Wuang Wild Fire – WWF spreading across the length and breadth of the globe. Thus, like invisible terrorist causing unbearable soul damages and demise of the entire human race from Asia to America, Europe to Africa, beside across the oceans to Australia as well by the airwaves of flights to countries of the continents. Indeed, the news of its occurrence and how lives were affected in Wuang, China dated December of 2019. In fact, its severe deadly approach to multitudes in China made the ‘Word Health Organization – WHO’ came out with a name Corona Virus – CV as simplified initials. However, ‘Corona’ as a literal parlance means ‘Crown’. Well, in terms of how it relate to this virus still unknown and vaccine undiscovered. Once again, WHO also came out with it short pronunciation name CoViD-19 which is explained: Co = Corona, Vi = Virus, D = December, 19 = 2019. To some world medical Doctors the ‘D’ stands for Disease though. As far as this article is concerned then CV simply means Corona Virus as I used to title a Spoken-Word poem recording dubbed: ‘Oh CV!’ which can be listened to via the following web-link: www.soundcloud.com/ikeboatofficial/ohcv   – Of course, not the CV many known as Curriculum Vitae attached to some employment application letters.

Around the world over, in everything there is good and bad, right and wrong, or even positive and negative. Therefore, The CV Effects brings to bear both the Negative and Positive sides of this global CoViD-19 pandemic as it pictured in African perspective. Although, many lives have been lost in Europe, America and other continents than Africa, there is still need to bring readers to the CV positive and negative effects. Lo, to the curious minds, Positive in this context is not when someone is tested and he or she carries such fatal virus in the blood stream coupled with its symptoms of the body system. Aside, not negative when a person has contracted the virus. But contrary, in view of right conditions or states it has brought human-kind and made many, especially on the continent of Africa.

The Positive Ten – TPT (+10)

1. It has taught both young and old the critical need as well urgency to wash hands thoroughly with soap under running pipe-borne water or usage of ‘Veronica Bucket’. Hitherto, some proceed to eat meals without regular hand wash even after visiting nature’s call, be it public or private toilet.

2. To the religious minds, in the Christendom – It has established the possibility for the faith-oriented ones to learn to pray on their own and for themselves even to intercede for others respectively. Thus, no dependency on Pastors or Priests to pray for them in times of critical spiritual conditions as there are no social functions or gatherings such as Church service, crusades etc.

3. It has also changed peoples habitual drunkenness as some often go to secret spots, bars or even pubs at even dawn times to engage in alcoholism i.e.(Excessive in-take of alcohol). That means positively there is nose-dive of people being piss-pots in order not to affect their health status.

4. Generally, those in Africa particularly the sub-region often refrain from covering their nostril even though pollution of different forms in the atmosphere hinders respiratory process. Thus, regular usage of ‘Nose Mask’ or ‘Face Mask’ has prevented many from inhaling other poisonous substances in the atmosphere through the nose or mouth.

5. There has been decrease of over-population problems in some countries of Africa, America, Europe, Asia etc. It obvious over-population bring about other economic hardships to the human society, thus some sort of positive death effect any way.

6. To those seeking ‘greener pastures’ in some European or American countries there will be many job or work opportunities for them to travel in enhancing their human resource-based when  the whole pandemic pass away and people have freedom of movement.

7. Nowadays, there is reasonable usage of handkerchiefs and tissues to cover nose and mouth when sneezing or coughing, as in times past some folks thought it was just some sort of involuntary action in life.

8. People have learnt the act of physical or social-distancing and isolation when it comes to buying and selling at public places as some form queues during customer service i.e.(Food Joints, Banking Halls and other places) which are often crowdie and congested, aside demands proper-spacing at public areas.

9. Being frugal on funeral and burial services in Ghana particularly has advantageously changed as those dead are buried quickly like the ‘Islamic way’, not kept in mortuary or morgue. Also, without mounting canopies and organizing of wake-keeping, playing music during funeral-related activities.

10. Similarly, those who spend huge-sums of money on wedding, engagement and birthday parties has changed dramatically as only twenty-five (25) people are accepted during social gatherings with regard to government directive.

The Negative Ten – TNT (-10)

              1. Obviously, the bad or negative impact of Lock-Downs on some sub-Saharan countries such as Togo, Ghana, Burkina Faso, Nigeria, Ivory Coast has been a bitter pill to swallow, especially those working from hand-t0-mouth on daily basis. Both, the partial and total Lock-Downs have made many remained hungry at various homes since they couldn’t reach-out to work so no means to make money for their livelihood.

             2. The death of individuals, some known relatives abroad and those popular show-biz celebrity and other professionals such as Musicians, Actors, Doctors etc. have left sad indelible marks on the minds of many as grave-yards are equaled to ancient castle-gate or door-way of  no return to life.

               3. No regular cordial forms of hand-shake salutation so some have sense of emotionalism and unseen feud of hatred being a negative sign rather than CV symptoms itself.

               4. Badly, no classroom form of education to study as schools and other corporate institutions, supermarkets, malls have generally close-down for so many months in Ghana, and other parts of the world. But, those with no knowledge about computer-related online learning or studies that means when there is possibility of examination it will be to their ‘negative’ disadvantage since they can’t fathom certain topics in the curriculum. Aside, would need professional teacher’s assistance.

               5. Some company employers have also laid-off workers, staff members and abrogated or cancelled contracts of personnel as consumers are not patronizing products and services rendered to the masses. More so, the international Airline industries as well Maritime agencies of ports and harbours are not in regular operations affecting the entire global economy.

               6. Family members and friends who have made monetary promises to send financial support to relatives in Africa are facing hard times due to uncertain Lock-Down restrictions and conditions.

               7. There have been sky-rocketing prices of products at market-places, especially sanitizer becoming mostly sought after CV preventive and protective product on the continent of Africa and beyond. Unimaginably, it has also affected some other food stuffs and products previously on little demand.

               8. The increase of pre-paid electricity unit buying, as school boys and girls supposed to be at school during classroom hours are at home watching television and using other electrical appliances to the disadvantage of parents suffering to pay other utility bills. To some parents, noise-making at home has been on higher-heights as children playing and hitting objects aimlessly keep disturbing them.

               9. Unknowingly, some government officials and those at front-line of work to ensure cure or possible healing process of the CV disease are rather making money to engage in different projects and use during political campaign rallies season. A couple of weeks, whilst at an audio recording studio at Top Hill of Kasoa, information revealed that some people with negative test of the CoViD-19 are falsely quarantined in order to ensure more donors funding support. Unhealthily, monies giving by both local and global organizations are channeled to different projects to the ‘negative’ disadvantage effect of the global Corona Virus – CV pandemic.

               10. Last not but least, some of us with other talents in the Arts performing industry are not getting events gig booking coupled with other benefits due to the negative side effect of Corona Virus – CV pandemic as there are no special social shows and programs to ensure participation or performances.

From Ike Boateng in Ghana

Snowfall in June

The civilised man only has will to conquer himself. –

Anon.

Some nights when the snow is silent

only the moon hisses as it arcs

through the night

cheating moonflower and evening star

into confiding in its magic

But magic alone is not enough

to secure the applecart

or endow the adder with agency

Some nights even the Stix freezes over

giving the snow a chance

to shine bright as Charon’s solitude

caught between ice and fire

in long nights of ferrying and panic

*

Now suppliant and lickspittle move in

for the kill in a bid to steal

obolus from the mouths of the dead –

only to find the Nightbird has flown

proffering snow as a metaphor

for exiting hell

Tangents

Hard to swallow yet another yarn

but you continue to thread the needle

with no lack of imagination

like a man accustomed to telling

the piece-mender

how to mend

as if the string-along

was natural as tying your boot laces

*

Not so much ‘losing the thread’

as ‘losing the plot’

as you spout ancient nothings

about soul science

and the lower fourth dimension

Sloughing

To rid itself of parasites and enable

new growth,

the sidestepping cobra slowly sheds its skin

but do not be fooled

by the sight of one predator leaving

itself defenseless as it eradicates another.

You must always be on your guard

and remember –

even without coiling

to assume the strike position

danger strikes

silently spitting venom without warning.

*

Anyone unfortunate enough to be acquainted

with the hooded menace

might wish to keep a mongoose

at hand to offset any material losses,

prevent further trespass

and send him packing (not before time)

into the dustbin of all your past mistakes.