I wanna lay you down in the SASCO building

“I dream in colour, so my dreams are vivid and clear and the detail is there” - Wise Old Man.

It’s amazing how time flies when you are thinking. I went to bed early on Saturday as I was trying to avoid the chaos and noise that comes from this shebeen that is across my rondavel each time Orlando Pirates are pitted against Kaizer Chiefs. You always wonder why the pirates are not at sea harassing sailors instead of kicking a soccer ball in a stadium. As for the chiefs you wonder if they deserve to be called chiefs as they seem to have abandoned their chiefdoms in favour of kicking that inflated piece of leather.

So I went into my rondavel, put my pipe in its safe and punched in the security code. Then I rolled out my grass mat and lay my old body down. As I lay there, alone, I remembered a verse that says it not good for a man to be alone. I looked around me. I saw the fake Mona Lisa drawing that hangs next to the original Picasso that adorns my wall. I looked at my tired tyre sandals and the old nylon six-string guitar that I strum on those occasions when I remember the verse that says it is not good for a man to be alone.

Dilemmas

I looked at the massive stock of nik naks and expensive whisky I have amassed over the last year and a half as payment for dishing out premium quality advice to folks facing any of life’s multidimensional dilemmas. Once again I concluded what I always conclude: A woman is precious and beautiful. A woman is the epitome of the beauty in all creation. Like all precious and beautiful and sparkling things, a woman is fragile. Her skin is soft and smooth and there is a huge dam of tears behind her eyes. One wrong word, one insensitive joke is enough and the dam bursts and the pillow is flooded. A woman has a sweet scent that swallows up the bad odour of trouble and stress and restlessness that accompanies the man wherever he may be.

I glanced around my rondavel once again. I looked at the imbasha leftovers abandoned in a saucer on top of the glass table I imported from France. A woman will not thrive here in this humble rondavel, I thought to myself. My grass mat will scratch and bruise her skin at night and eating imbasha as supper will upset her delicate bowels. No woman would want to lay her pretty head down here; this place is cold and rugged, fit for only a tough Wise Old Man like me.

What I didn’t know was that I was too old and out of touch with reality. Women long abandoned themselves. Sindisiwe Hlophe is a 30 year old soldier; chubby, light in complexion and has an expensive cell phone. I gathered this intelligence by reading the Times on Saturday and studying the pictures. She allegedly took off her clothes and engaged in an act of indecent copulation inside a dirty public building with another unscrupulous and uncouth soldier by the name of Bhekimphi Dlamini. This is the calibre of women we have today; women who prefer to be treated in such a manner. They were caught by police.

The SASCO building is also used by thugs as a hideout after committing atrocities, which include raping women. In the name of the Father I bind the spirit of hopelessness that threatens to swallow our women. Amen.
Oh, and yes, viva Bhakabhaka. Heek heek.

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