"Insanity is genius..."-ANONYMOUS.
I guess even the sky gets cried out.The clouds had come to resemble the soggy pillow of a sad woman that often cried herself to sleep.The funeral was basicaly over.The coffin had been lowered and burried,the wreaths laid.Father Walker had read from the bible and even spoken at the church.It was fairly the same words you hear at every other church service;"celebrate the deceased's life","there is salvation for us all","...a better place awaits us...".He couldnt speak much about Benny or his life,he barely knew him.You couldnt blame him either,Benny very rarely went to church.People had gotten up to speak about Benny Blow,about his life,what he would say...and it struck me.It struck me that very few,if not all of them,did not know much about him.Yes they could quote a 'con status' or even mention times when he lifted their spirits,but they could not express what he stood for;what exactly he was saying even behind his humor...tears of a sad clown.Benny Blow,we hardly knew ye...
Monday 16 May 2011
The Death of Benny Blow: Vigilante Tantrum
Black and moist dirt breeds the fattest worms that squirm and wriggle underneath it. The epitome of obese amongst all wormkind. Thick pus filled sausages whose bodies are marked and divided into small rings, bearing resemblance to intestines. Digesting all the corpses the earth ingests and squelching in its muddy belly. Hundreds of bodies decaying under the supervision of their worm masters, some past putrification. The cadavers becoming a single mush with the soil and wood from coffins. They fertilize the soil and bring forth new life through the germinating grass and shooting plants. From death emerges new life. But some things refuse to follow the conventional circle of life. Perhaps it bores them. Perhaps it is some cosmic joke disobeying the laws of creation. Who knows? Some things are better left unexplained.
Tonight the earth spreads her legs to grant life to something that denies staying buried and fertilizing her plant life. The full moon hovers above the dirt and illuminates the delivery. The dirt cold and calm on the surface, but below something festers and bubbles. Dirt on the grave bulges. Something burrows beneath it and a small crater begins to form from the bulge. Clumps of soil and stones sink as muddy hand thrusts through the soil. Blood streaks thinly down the liberated arm. Tooth and nail literally fighting the muddy placenta-less womb. Digging. Clawing .Scratching. A head protrudes. BEHOLD, he takes his first breath. A dog howls in the distance. O’ mother earth! What have you unleashed unto the world?
“Ndiye kuti muni settinga? Enh, are you playing a joke on me?”
“Iyayi mdala, we’re not playing a joke on you. We just want to know exactly what happened.”
“Then why are you here with him?! Are you wizards of some sort, enh? Because if you are, I’m telling you now, I am protected! My uncle practices witchcraft and …and…”
The old man spoke with a typical Zambian accent, I couldn’t tell from which part of Zambia though. I never could. Chibale had been trying to reason with him for what now felt like an eternity. What the man was saying was just plain insane. But with what had happened over the last week I shouldn’t have been too surprised.
“We are not wizards mdala. We just want to be clear, because what you are saying is just not possible. “Chibale told him. The caretaker explained again exactly what he had seen. He spoke in Nyanja and went on in length about the events of the other night, his story unchanging. He talked again about how he had been roaming the grounds because he felt he did a better job than those loafers from the security company. He said occasionally some small-time witches would slip past the gates and perform rituals on the graves of the deceased rich inside the grounds. Why just last week he had evicted two of them. But this one was different. And he swore to us that he doesn’t drink. He had been right at the grave when it all began to happen.
A cat running from the grave had caught his attention so he decided to investigate. He claimed an eerie feeling overcame him when he’d reached it, and then it all unfolded. An arm protruded from the ground and began to dig out. Another arm emerged from where the first one had. They struggled with the dirt until a head thrust though the dirt and took a deep breath. The person gasped for air and coughed for a bit and then stared at the caretaker. The old man said he froze and almost even soiled himself. The man from the grave freed the rest of his body and buckled a little when he stood. The old man said nothing to what he assumed was a zombie and their eyes locked. Then the zombie gave him a thumb up and left. Of course the old man was too frightened to do anything, who wouldn’t be? He said he ran home and prayed.
“And you are sure of whom you saw?” Chibale asked.
“Yes! It was this same man you are with here today! I cannot be mistaken; he has the same eyes the man from your grave had….”
When we had inspected the grave and left the old man I thought deeply about what had been happening recently. Was this all some messed up dream? Id had plenty of those over time, but why hadn’t I woken up by now? I had always wanted some variety in my life, but this was just too much. From the funeral to the mental hospital and now this? A zombie?! Maybe it was just one of those witchcraft guys the caretaker had mentioned. But why Benny’s grave?
“Balito! Do you believe that man?” Chibale said breaking the silence.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore bra…I may have really lost my mind, escaped the asylum and did all that shit. But even if I did manage to escape, how did I burry myself?” I said.
“….”
“I think we should never speak of this again,” I told him, “Maybe if I just ignore it, it might all go back to some normalcy. I’m not even sure if I remember what normal is anymore.”
I spent most of the rest of that week sleeping and watching T.V. I avoided anything that stretched the imagination just incase I flipped. I watched a lot of news and read the papers everyday. There had been funny articles about people being set on fire, DJs getting beaten up and being threatened not to play certain songs, sneakers getting stolen and burnt…a whole lot of weird stuff had been happening. Made me wonder if I was dreaming still. Until my friend Grandson called me. “Exe! Switch on your radio and tune into Radio Phoenix right NOW!”
I rushed to the bedroom and tuned in. The signal wasn’t so good,”…..might die! This is dangerous and criminal behavior! The government must do something….” More typical Zambian accents. These people liked to call on the government for everything. “….Yeah, this guy beat up my friends and I and stole our sneakers!....Reports allover Lusaka have been coming in of similar events. Some have even been so unfortunate as to be left tied upside down and robbed of their clothes. Victims say the attacker doesn’t take any valuable items like money or jewelry, just clothes and shoes, mostly sneakers. DJs have been afraid to play some popular songs for fear of being attacked by this dangerous night man. We have with us here a man who claims to know the attackers name and has even written a poem about him…..
‘Beware all ye with rainbow coloured Supras
Ye who claim swag and act super.
Ye with fake weaves and bleach-ed skin
Ye that ramble on like an empty tin.
Beware for he will rob you naked and string you up
For your ignorance you will cry and whimper like a pup.
He stalks the night for the fake and unreal
His vigilante justice swift, you will have no appeal.
Cool and calm as the cold wind blows
Beware all ye, of THE BENNY BLOW!’…….”
Tonight the earth spreads her legs to grant life to something that denies staying buried and fertilizing her plant life. The full moon hovers above the dirt and illuminates the delivery. The dirt cold and calm on the surface, but below something festers and bubbles. Dirt on the grave bulges. Something burrows beneath it and a small crater begins to form from the bulge. Clumps of soil and stones sink as muddy hand thrusts through the soil. Blood streaks thinly down the liberated arm. Tooth and nail literally fighting the muddy placenta-less womb. Digging. Clawing .Scratching. A head protrudes. BEHOLD, he takes his first breath. A dog howls in the distance. O’ mother earth! What have you unleashed unto the world?
“Ndiye kuti muni settinga? Enh, are you playing a joke on me?”
“Iyayi mdala, we’re not playing a joke on you. We just want to know exactly what happened.”
“Then why are you here with him?! Are you wizards of some sort, enh? Because if you are, I’m telling you now, I am protected! My uncle practices witchcraft and …and…”
The old man spoke with a typical Zambian accent, I couldn’t tell from which part of Zambia though. I never could. Chibale had been trying to reason with him for what now felt like an eternity. What the man was saying was just plain insane. But with what had happened over the last week I shouldn’t have been too surprised.
“We are not wizards mdala. We just want to be clear, because what you are saying is just not possible. “Chibale told him. The caretaker explained again exactly what he had seen. He spoke in Nyanja and went on in length about the events of the other night, his story unchanging. He talked again about how he had been roaming the grounds because he felt he did a better job than those loafers from the security company. He said occasionally some small-time witches would slip past the gates and perform rituals on the graves of the deceased rich inside the grounds. Why just last week he had evicted two of them. But this one was different. And he swore to us that he doesn’t drink. He had been right at the grave when it all began to happen.
A cat running from the grave had caught his attention so he decided to investigate. He claimed an eerie feeling overcame him when he’d reached it, and then it all unfolded. An arm protruded from the ground and began to dig out. Another arm emerged from where the first one had. They struggled with the dirt until a head thrust though the dirt and took a deep breath. The person gasped for air and coughed for a bit and then stared at the caretaker. The old man said he froze and almost even soiled himself. The man from the grave freed the rest of his body and buckled a little when he stood. The old man said nothing to what he assumed was a zombie and their eyes locked. Then the zombie gave him a thumb up and left. Of course the old man was too frightened to do anything, who wouldn’t be? He said he ran home and prayed.
“And you are sure of whom you saw?” Chibale asked.
“Yes! It was this same man you are with here today! I cannot be mistaken; he has the same eyes the man from your grave had….”
When we had inspected the grave and left the old man I thought deeply about what had been happening recently. Was this all some messed up dream? Id had plenty of those over time, but why hadn’t I woken up by now? I had always wanted some variety in my life, but this was just too much. From the funeral to the mental hospital and now this? A zombie?! Maybe it was just one of those witchcraft guys the caretaker had mentioned. But why Benny’s grave?
“Balito! Do you believe that man?” Chibale said breaking the silence.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore bra…I may have really lost my mind, escaped the asylum and did all that shit. But even if I did manage to escape, how did I burry myself?” I said.
“….”
“I think we should never speak of this again,” I told him, “Maybe if I just ignore it, it might all go back to some normalcy. I’m not even sure if I remember what normal is anymore.”
I spent most of the rest of that week sleeping and watching T.V. I avoided anything that stretched the imagination just incase I flipped. I watched a lot of news and read the papers everyday. There had been funny articles about people being set on fire, DJs getting beaten up and being threatened not to play certain songs, sneakers getting stolen and burnt…a whole lot of weird stuff had been happening. Made me wonder if I was dreaming still. Until my friend Grandson called me. “Exe! Switch on your radio and tune into Radio Phoenix right NOW!”
I rushed to the bedroom and tuned in. The signal wasn’t so good,”…..might die! This is dangerous and criminal behavior! The government must do something….” More typical Zambian accents. These people liked to call on the government for everything. “….Yeah, this guy beat up my friends and I and stole our sneakers!....Reports allover Lusaka have been coming in of similar events. Some have even been so unfortunate as to be left tied upside down and robbed of their clothes. Victims say the attacker doesn’t take any valuable items like money or jewelry, just clothes and shoes, mostly sneakers. DJs have been afraid to play some popular songs for fear of being attacked by this dangerous night man. We have with us here a man who claims to know the attackers name and has even written a poem about him…..
‘Beware all ye with rainbow coloured Supras
Ye who claim swag and act super.
Ye with fake weaves and bleach-ed skin
Ye that ramble on like an empty tin.
Beware for he will rob you naked and string you up
For your ignorance you will cry and whimper like a pup.
He stalks the night for the fake and unreal
His vigilante justice swift, you will have no appeal.
Cool and calm as the cold wind blows
Beware all ye, of THE BENNY BLOW!’…….”
The Death of Benny Blow: REHABennytation
"They tried to make me go to rehab but I said,'no no no'
Yes I've been black but when I come back,you'll know know know..."-Amy Winehouse,Rehab.
They just stood there.They all just stood there and watched as the men in white took me away.Id struggled at first but I was exhausted from all the digging and clawing I had done.These people are cruel.I thought they were my friends.Who calls the happy wagon to a funeral?! How could they have me committed? They could have atleast talked to me to see what was going on with me! I felt fine! I was certain there was some kind of misplacement with the coffin.These things happened all the time!...Didn't they? Im sure Benny's body was still at the mortuary or at some other poor soul's funeral.This was all crazy! I mean,maybe I was a little drastic when I dug up the coffin,but I had to prove to them Benny Blow was real! Now I was being dragged away to a mental asylum.
I always try to look on the bright side of things.So when we got to the entrance of Chainama's main building,I tried to imagine I was The Jocker,returning to Arkum asylum.It was more of a dim side than a bright side,because reality began to set in.That sick medicinal smell that permiates hospitals invaded my nose and made me sick.I threw up.Some of it got on my clothes,it was a mixture of colours and looked like a kid's finger painting.The two men that had brought me in paid me no mind.They must have been used to this sort of thing.They were cold and expressionless.A short fat lady walked up to my work or art with a bucket and a mop to clean it up.She wasnt as fast as the guys that ran onto a basketball court to wipe the sweat when an NBA player fell,but she got the job done.
The funny thing about this place was that the patients where left to roam free,even the violent ones.I saw one guy bashing another guy's head into a wall almost until it resembled a smashed tomatoe.Two large men in white didnt rush,but walked up to the two fight club members and caned the both of them wit short buttons.As we walked on a naked man in shades ran past us.He was fast,but not as fast as my innocense was destroyed.Further on,a lady walked up to us and told me to please tell her mother to come and pick her up because class had ended days ago.And so it went on.I had never seen so many characters collected in one place.Even my college paled in comparison.
It was night time now.The emotionless men in white had led me to my quaters hours earlier after they had signed and checked me in.I was a little disapponted that I didnt get a straight jacket.My matress was thin and my room was very plain.The walls seemed to be staring back at me with their cold pealing-paint-faces.My head was spinning and I was drained.I had been given something to help me calm down and sleep,but I was wide awake.If you asked me,the medicine made me even more insane.That is,if I was insane in the first place.I could hear the screams,shouts and even singing of the other patients and it added to my discomfort.I wanted to die.Kill me now.I wasnt mad.Benny was real.Infact,there he is,standing in my window.The shadowy silouette looked just like me.Now I cant recall if I was asleep or awake,because it was oh so surreal.
I had been at Chainama for three whole days before I recieved the phonecall.No one had come to see me and I still wore the same clothes from the funeral.That upchuck finger painting had become crusty and most of it had flaked off.I think I had lost a chunk of my sanity in that place.I had even gone streaking with the naked man in shades,but that was me just looking on the bright side again.I figured I might make the most of my looney bin stay.
It was Chibale on the phone.He'd said he'd been trying to organise the tombstone for Benny's grave.Said it was the least he could do for me after all the mess.And besides,we'd paid for the grave space already.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"I snickered.
"No,its just...there's something else..," he replied.
"Whats that?"
"After we re-burried the coffin,later that night the caretaker claims he saw someone dig himself out,crawl and walk away from the grave."...
Yes I've been black but when I come back,you'll know know know..."-Amy Winehouse,Rehab.
They just stood there.They all just stood there and watched as the men in white took me away.Id struggled at first but I was exhausted from all the digging and clawing I had done.These people are cruel.I thought they were my friends.Who calls the happy wagon to a funeral?! How could they have me committed? They could have atleast talked to me to see what was going on with me! I felt fine! I was certain there was some kind of misplacement with the coffin.These things happened all the time!...Didn't they? Im sure Benny's body was still at the mortuary or at some other poor soul's funeral.This was all crazy! I mean,maybe I was a little drastic when I dug up the coffin,but I had to prove to them Benny Blow was real! Now I was being dragged away to a mental asylum.
I always try to look on the bright side of things.So when we got to the entrance of Chainama's main building,I tried to imagine I was The Jocker,returning to Arkum asylum.It was more of a dim side than a bright side,because reality began to set in.That sick medicinal smell that permiates hospitals invaded my nose and made me sick.I threw up.Some of it got on my clothes,it was a mixture of colours and looked like a kid's finger painting.The two men that had brought me in paid me no mind.They must have been used to this sort of thing.They were cold and expressionless.A short fat lady walked up to my work or art with a bucket and a mop to clean it up.She wasnt as fast as the guys that ran onto a basketball court to wipe the sweat when an NBA player fell,but she got the job done.
The funny thing about this place was that the patients where left to roam free,even the violent ones.I saw one guy bashing another guy's head into a wall almost until it resembled a smashed tomatoe.Two large men in white didnt rush,but walked up to the two fight club members and caned the both of them wit short buttons.As we walked on a naked man in shades ran past us.He was fast,but not as fast as my innocense was destroyed.Further on,a lady walked up to us and told me to please tell her mother to come and pick her up because class had ended days ago.And so it went on.I had never seen so many characters collected in one place.Even my college paled in comparison.
It was night time now.The emotionless men in white had led me to my quaters hours earlier after they had signed and checked me in.I was a little disapponted that I didnt get a straight jacket.My matress was thin and my room was very plain.The walls seemed to be staring back at me with their cold pealing-paint-faces.My head was spinning and I was drained.I had been given something to help me calm down and sleep,but I was wide awake.If you asked me,the medicine made me even more insane.That is,if I was insane in the first place.I could hear the screams,shouts and even singing of the other patients and it added to my discomfort.I wanted to die.Kill me now.I wasnt mad.Benny was real.Infact,there he is,standing in my window.The shadowy silouette looked just like me.Now I cant recall if I was asleep or awake,because it was oh so surreal.
I had been at Chainama for three whole days before I recieved the phonecall.No one had come to see me and I still wore the same clothes from the funeral.That upchuck finger painting had become crusty and most of it had flaked off.I think I had lost a chunk of my sanity in that place.I had even gone streaking with the naked man in shades,but that was me just looking on the bright side again.I figured I might make the most of my looney bin stay.
It was Chibale on the phone.He'd said he'd been trying to organise the tombstone for Benny's grave.Said it was the least he could do for me after all the mess.And besides,we'd paid for the grave space already.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"I snickered.
"No,its just...there's something else..," he replied.
"Whats that?"
"After we re-burried the coffin,later that night the caretaker claims he saw someone dig himself out,crawl and walk away from the grave."...
Friday 13 May 2011
The Fat Lady Sings pt.I
"No one knows,however,when that day or hour will come-
neither the angels in heaven nor the Son, the Father alone knows.
The coming of the Son of man will be like what happened
in the time of Noah. In the days before the flood people
ate and drank ,men and women married up to the very day
Noah went into the boat; yet they did not realise what was happening
until the flood came and swept them all away. That is how it will be
when the Son of man comes .At that time two men will be working in a field:
one will be taken and the other left behind. Two women will be grinding meal:
one will be taken, the other left behind...." MATHEW:36-41
I went through the same regular routine just like every other night. Television had gotten boring and its waves had induced that sleepy feeling once again. Besides,I wasn't about to watch another ignorant episode of 'Yo mama' on MTV. So I dragged my feet through the corridor to my room after switching off the lights in the living room and kitchen, thinking about nothing in particular. The bedroom was dark and I could see nothing but silhouettes and shadows, but I knew my way around.My hands reached out for the ladder andIi climbed up to my bed on the top bunk. One of my cousins muttered something about spider-man in his sleep. I wonder what he was dreaming about. I knelt on my bed and said a prayer. Deep in my thoughts I asked God to forgive me for my sins; to give me the strength and courage I need to run through life; to protect us all from evil and to help me find Jesus. In Jesus' mighty name I prayed, amen. And with that I hit my pillow. The pillow was as cool as I liked it and I snuggled in my duvet trying to find the perfect sleeping position. The bed sheets were also cool and I unknowingly curled my toes. A couple of thoughts drifted through my sleepy head, constructive at first then swirling into randomness. The events of the day; What I would do the next day; how I need to make positive changes in my life; dirty thoughts of my girlfriend; why mosquitoes are so annoying; what mosquitoes did during the day; if mosquitoes also had thoughts of their own....
I was well into my sleep having one of those dreams where I was back in high school and everyone I knew (including those I met after high school) was in my class; when something woke me. I wasn't drunk with sleep, I was wide awake and I knew the whole world was too. The time had come. And I had been caught sleeping. Like a thief in the night he said. It was time to meet my maker.
Most of the stuff I had read or heard about did not happen. No armageddon (what a relief!), no horsemen, no bleeding moons, no rapture, no tyranny by true evil; just the sounding of a trumpet. It wasn't necessarily that rude awakening sound of a trumpet synonymous with military boot camps no. It was an announcement through a global P.A system. Every colour, race and creed heard it .It pierced through every barrier and floated across every ocean and into all of mankind's ears. The sound echoed through every temple ,every shrine and every holy city. God had lent us life and he was here to collect the debt.
TO BE CONTINUED...
neither the angels in heaven nor the Son, the Father alone knows.
The coming of the Son of man will be like what happened
in the time of Noah. In the days before the flood people
ate and drank ,men and women married up to the very day
Noah went into the boat; yet they did not realise what was happening
until the flood came and swept them all away. That is how it will be
when the Son of man comes .At that time two men will be working in a field:
one will be taken and the other left behind. Two women will be grinding meal:
one will be taken, the other left behind...." MATHEW:36-41
I went through the same regular routine just like every other night. Television had gotten boring and its waves had induced that sleepy feeling once again. Besides,I wasn't about to watch another ignorant episode of 'Yo mama' on MTV. So I dragged my feet through the corridor to my room after switching off the lights in the living room and kitchen, thinking about nothing in particular. The bedroom was dark and I could see nothing but silhouettes and shadows, but I knew my way around.My hands reached out for the ladder andIi climbed up to my bed on the top bunk. One of my cousins muttered something about spider-man in his sleep. I wonder what he was dreaming about. I knelt on my bed and said a prayer. Deep in my thoughts I asked God to forgive me for my sins; to give me the strength and courage I need to run through life; to protect us all from evil and to help me find Jesus. In Jesus' mighty name I prayed, amen. And with that I hit my pillow. The pillow was as cool as I liked it and I snuggled in my duvet trying to find the perfect sleeping position. The bed sheets were also cool and I unknowingly curled my toes. A couple of thoughts drifted through my sleepy head, constructive at first then swirling into randomness. The events of the day; What I would do the next day; how I need to make positive changes in my life; dirty thoughts of my girlfriend; why mosquitoes are so annoying; what mosquitoes did during the day; if mosquitoes also had thoughts of their own....
I was well into my sleep having one of those dreams where I was back in high school and everyone I knew (including those I met after high school) was in my class; when something woke me. I wasn't drunk with sleep, I was wide awake and I knew the whole world was too. The time had come. And I had been caught sleeping. Like a thief in the night he said. It was time to meet my maker.
Most of the stuff I had read or heard about did not happen. No armageddon (what a relief!), no horsemen, no bleeding moons, no rapture, no tyranny by true evil; just the sounding of a trumpet. It wasn't necessarily that rude awakening sound of a trumpet synonymous with military boot camps no. It was an announcement through a global P.A system. Every colour, race and creed heard it .It pierced through every barrier and floated across every ocean and into all of mankind's ears. The sound echoed through every temple ,every shrine and every holy city. God had lent us life and he was here to collect the debt.
TO BE CONTINUED...
The Fat Lady Sings pt.II
"Then I saw a great white throne and the one who sits on it.Earth and heaven fled from his presence and were seen no more. And I saw the dead, great and small alike ,standing before the throne. Books were opened, and then another book was opened, the book of the living. The dead were judged according to what they had done, as recorded in the books.
Then the sea gave up its dead. Death and the world of the dead also gave up the dead they held.And all were judged according to what they had done.Then death and the world of the dead were thrown into the lake of fire. (This lake of fire was the second death.)Whoever did not have their names written in the book of the living were thrown into the lake of fire." REVELATION 20:11-15
The world as we know it melted away seamlessly. It reminded me of how Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne switched between programs in The Matrix. The background simply poured out and was replaced by a new one.It was a little like what I had seen in the cartoons, especially the Tom and Jerry ones where Tom would be amongst the woolly clouds in heaven. The earth had become like what the sky looked like on a cloudless sunny day. It was all vibrant but faded, something like a thin fabric of faded blue silk covering bright lights in the background. And it was everywhere. The sky;The floor; The distance. The roof of the world did not meet the ground, there was no horizon. I looked at myself and expected that I would be draped in some heavenly robe or bed sheet-like garment. I was still wearing my pyjamas ,the same Adidas track pants and my black WWF t-shirt of The Rock. Looking around from where I stood I could see a queue that stretched continents into the distance. I hated queues. At least it would be the last one I'd ever be in.
I guessed that this queue would lead to the saint that would lead the righteous into the pearly gates and the wicked into the rusted, flame charred gates of hades. I knew where I was going.But I had hope.I mean, I was a good guy...,wasn't I? I never hurt anyone, at least not intentionally .I gave my change to the poor beggars sometimes, well, when I felt like.But still, I felt actual sadness for them,I felt their plight Wouldn't that count for something? I could probably talk to the man at the gate, maybe he would understand. After all,they were all angels and angels where good guys.Weren't they?
Then the sea gave up its dead. Death and the world of the dead also gave up the dead they held.And all were judged according to what they had done.Then death and the world of the dead were thrown into the lake of fire. (This lake of fire was the second death.)Whoever did not have their names written in the book of the living were thrown into the lake of fire." REVELATION 20:11-15
The world as we know it melted away seamlessly. It reminded me of how Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne switched between programs in The Matrix. The background simply poured out and was replaced by a new one.It was a little like what I had seen in the cartoons, especially the Tom and Jerry ones where Tom would be amongst the woolly clouds in heaven. The earth had become like what the sky looked like on a cloudless sunny day. It was all vibrant but faded, something like a thin fabric of faded blue silk covering bright lights in the background. And it was everywhere. The sky;The floor; The distance. The roof of the world did not meet the ground, there was no horizon. I looked at myself and expected that I would be draped in some heavenly robe or bed sheet-like garment. I was still wearing my pyjamas ,the same Adidas track pants and my black WWF t-shirt of The Rock. Looking around from where I stood I could see a queue that stretched continents into the distance. I hated queues. At least it would be the last one I'd ever be in.
I guessed that this queue would lead to the saint that would lead the righteous into the pearly gates and the wicked into the rusted, flame charred gates of hades. I knew where I was going.But I had hope.I mean, I was a good guy...,wasn't I? I never hurt anyone, at least not intentionally .I gave my change to the poor beggars sometimes, well, when I felt like.But still, I felt actual sadness for them,I felt their plight Wouldn't that count for something? I could probably talk to the man at the gate, maybe he would understand. After all,they were all angels and angels where good guys.Weren't they?
Tuesday 10 May 2011
The Fat Lady Sings Pt.III
"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you visited me…"-MATT 25:31-36
As we moved further on I could see us approaching an alter. An angel stood behind it but I could not see his face. It shined a brilliant light. Probably one of the saints. But which one? Of course I wouldn't know that now, would I? How much of the bible did I even know? John 3:16-For God so loved the world that He gave—everyone knows that one genius! The line branched off into two at the alter. You didn't need a super imagination or a degree in religious filing to know why. To the right went the righteous. Those who had served God and loved Jesus. Those who would frolic in the streets of gold and rub shoulders with the disciples and even Jesus Himself. To the left went the….Lefteous.Those who had served others and loved themselves. Those who were destined to belly flop in the lake of fire and drown in it. The lake where the lifeguard on duty would probably be bat-winged and if he gave you C.P.R, he would leave with your tongue.
The closer we got, the more nervous I got. If I still had my heart it would have been racing. Far away, to the left of the altar I saw a familiar head. Was it him? Yes! Yes it was! That little bastard! [Sorry God]. That little holier than thou bastar---guy! Everyone knew someone like him. The type to never miss a Sunday of church, knew his bible well and always frowned upon the activities of others. Some dark part of me felt good about it though, some part of me exalted his failure. But that malevolent satisfaction quickly turned into fear. If he was going there, where would I go?
The guy in front of me was let through. The angel gestured his arm pointing to the right, ushering the new guy into paradise. It was now my turn.
"Step forward my son. What is your name?"
"Bwanga. Bwanga Kapumpa…your holiness." That was corny! Why would you say something like that? You sounded like a boot-licking defendant in a Zambian court!
"Bwanga. Bwanga…..Hmmmm…., as he scrolled through the large book of life I wondered what order we were all arranged in. Alphabetically? By date of creation? By degree or extent of sin? The number of good deeds done in your previous life?...
"Ahh, yes! Bwanga Kapumpa! 'Benny Blow' ha-ha!"
"Haha, yes that's me," I replied embarrassed.
"Yes. To the left if you please," the angel said raising his left hand, pointing to the dark left.
"What, that's it?" I asked genuinely surprised.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean…that's all? I don't get to hear anything? No questions?"
"What, you would like me to read you your rights? Or perhaps a list of your sins? I don't think so my brother. Your time has come." He said.
"Listen," I began, "I can explain."
"Oh yes, go ahead. We do have all of eternity after all." the angel replied sarcastically.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"I am Saint Peter!" he bellowed, "Charged with the keys of The Kingdom of Heaven. Upon this rock the Lord built His church and the gates of Hades will not overpower it!"
"Yes, yes. I understand .Good for you . But listen, I'm a good guy. I shouldn't be going that way. I always put others before myself. I was there for people when they needed me. I lent a helping hand when I could and my shoulders are still wet from all the crying people did on them. I listened to my mother and shared what I could. I may have not gone to church every Sunday, but I tried. And I listened. I said a prayer every morning and almost every night…"
"For God so loved the world that he gave his—"
"Yes, I understand all that, but PLEASE—"
"I cannot let you in son. You cannot enter The Kingdom of God without accepting Jesus Christ our Lord as your savior," he told me.
"Wait…maybe I could talk to Jesus. Where is He? I'm sure He'll understand."
"Listen, this is not some exclusive club you can negotiate your way into. Jesus cannot save you now .Its too late. You chose your fate when you chose to ignore him."
"But wait..Wait…I…buh--," tears were beginning to fill my eyes. Saint Peter simply lowered his head, raised his left arm and pointed to the gates of the abyss. I looked at him long and hard hoping for some sympathy but he was unmoving. I dragged my feet away from the queue to the altar towards the queue to the fiery pits.
There was no one to usher us in. I could feel the heat from a distance as the flames licked the entrance. I could smell the toxic fumes and sulphur as I approached. And then, I heard singing…Sorrowful yet melodious singing. Falsettos and high pitched tones echoed through the inferno. I looked up to the side as I walked in, and there she was, high up on a ledge; the fat lady….
"Step forward my son. What is your name?"
"Bwanga. Bwanga Kapumpa…your holiness." That was corny! Why would you say something like that? You sounded like a boot-licking defendant in a Zambian court!
"Bwanga. Bwanga…..Hmmmm…., as he scrolled through the large book of life I wondered what order we were all arranged in. Alphabetically? By date of creation? By degree or extent of sin? The number of good deeds done in your previous life?...
"Ahh, yes! Bwanga Kapumpa! 'Benny Blow' ha-ha!"
"Haha, yes that's me," I replied embarrassed.
"Yes. To the left if you please," the angel said raising his left hand, pointing to the dark left.
"What, that's it?" I asked genuinely surprised.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean…that's all? I don't get to hear anything? No questions?"
"What, you would like me to read you your rights? Or perhaps a list of your sins? I don't think so my brother. Your time has come." He said.
"Listen," I began, "I can explain."
"Oh yes, go ahead. We do have all of eternity after all." the angel replied sarcastically.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"I am Saint Peter!" he bellowed, "Charged with the keys of The Kingdom of Heaven. Upon this rock the Lord built His church and the gates of Hades will not overpower it!"
"Yes, yes. I understand .Good for you . But listen, I'm a good guy. I shouldn't be going that way. I always put others before myself. I was there for people when they needed me. I lent a helping hand when I could and my shoulders are still wet from all the crying people did on them. I listened to my mother and shared what I could. I may have not gone to church every Sunday, but I tried. And I listened. I said a prayer every morning and almost every night…"
"For God so loved the world that he gave his—"
"Yes, I understand all that, but PLEASE—"
"I cannot let you in son. You cannot enter The Kingdom of God without accepting Jesus Christ our Lord as your savior," he told me.
"Wait…maybe I could talk to Jesus. Where is He? I'm sure He'll understand."
"Listen, this is not some exclusive club you can negotiate your way into. Jesus cannot save you now .Its too late. You chose your fate when you chose to ignore him."
"But wait..Wait…I…buh--," tears were beginning to fill my eyes. Saint Peter simply lowered his head, raised his left arm and pointed to the gates of the abyss. I looked at him long and hard hoping for some sympathy but he was unmoving. I dragged my feet away from the queue to the altar towards the queue to the fiery pits.
There was no one to usher us in. I could feel the heat from a distance as the flames licked the entrance. I could smell the toxic fumes and sulphur as I approached. And then, I heard singing…Sorrowful yet melodious singing. Falsettos and high pitched tones echoed through the inferno. I looked up to the side as I walked in, and there she was, high up on a ledge; the fat lady….
THE END
Tuesday 3 May 2011
Inspiration
I've been searching for somekind of inspiration for my next blogpost over the last two weeks or so.I havnt been very successful.Mostly because I want to post only the best material.
I went back to my old note books,one from highschool and another from my earlier days in college.Thats a period between 2002 and 2007,I wrote the most during these years.Mostly rap verses (I used to fancy myself a rapper.Tight rhymes too!) and love poems.I was more into the lifestyle of rap and easily got infatuated with pretty girls at the time,so it wasnt hard for me to immerse myself in all that and just write.I read some of it now and its a little corny,especialy my poetry.But maybe I'll post them in the future when I get a larger following,just so you get an insight into how my writing and headspace has evolved over the years.Anyway,my point is inspiration wasnt hard for me to find during those years.I guess its coz my stress levels were lower and reality didn't suck as many eggs.
I went back to my old note books,one from highschool and another from my earlier days in college.Thats a period between 2002 and 2007,I wrote the most during these years.Mostly rap verses (I used to fancy myself a rapper.Tight rhymes too!) and love poems.I was more into the lifestyle of rap and easily got infatuated with pretty girls at the time,so it wasnt hard for me to immerse myself in all that and just write.I read some of it now and its a little corny,especialy my poetry.But maybe I'll post them in the future when I get a larger following,just so you get an insight into how my writing and headspace has evolved over the years.Anyway,my point is inspiration wasnt hard for me to find during those years.I guess its coz my stress levels were lower and reality didn't suck as many eggs.
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