Hello my friend, we speak again, it’s been a while where should we begin? It feels like it’s been forever. Within my heart lie the perfect and well guarded memories, a perfect love that you gave to me; that I remember. I just want to say hello again.
I thought of you again today, as I have every year for the past four, and I just wanted to say hello again. Whether you have been following my progress in general is not in doubt; I’m pretty sure you’ve been checking in on me once in a while just to make sure that I didn’t make too many mistakes. In fact, I’m quite sure you’re the voice that has on so many occasions stopped me doing things that I would have probably lived to regret.
I just want to say hello again and tell you things haven’t been the same since you left. True we weren’t the best of friends but that’s because you always believed that discipline in life was key and I was headstrong and fighting my way out of teenage and still trying to work out my identity and niche in life. Too bad I spent half that time with a blurry haze shielding my eyes from the important things in life. If only I’d known then what I know now maybe things would have been different. They say that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone and boy don’t I know that. It’s amazing how these mundane statements we make come back to slap us in the face.
I just wanted to say hello again and fill you in on the things we talked about last. Yes, the girls are well. I have done all I could to make sure of that just as I promised. One is busy criss-crossing the world singing her heart out and exercising her talents. The other is in the land of our former colonial masters working on bettering herself. The last is at home, and it is for her that I have looked out for most. She misses you more than I do, or ever will. I do so hope they let you go every once in a while that you may check in on her and let her know that you’re never too far.
I just wanted to say hello and tell you that all those things you told me when I was busy sulking away like some whiny child have come to pass and I only wish now that I had paid more attention. It’s been hard converting from boy to man in such a short time but I made it and I think you had something to do with that, after all I do suffer from good upbringing.
I thought by now I would have got over it but five years to the day the wound still hurts like it did then. They say time heals all but this is one that time may just have glossed over. I just wanted to say hello again and let you know we miss you now as much as then and that you will never be forgotten. Your spirit lives on in all of us and even as the warm tears course down my cheeks, you should know that. You were, are and will always be not only my father but my friend and nothing in this world shall ever change that.
I miss you dad and that is why I just wanted to say hello again.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Ngeli ya Baiskeli IV: Brass band auditions...
St. Blackie is one heck of a character; one worthy of being placed in a bicycle hall of fame somewhere in this world. These are sentiments you would most definately agree with if you had been following the serialisation of the life and times of Dude and St. Blackie (hmm, theres a ring to that, a story in the offing, but I digress). Thus far we have established a couple of amazing facts, noteworthy on so many levels and to some just a chronicle of a timewaster (another ring...hmmm..)
One must have realised by now that the Mother Teresa of bicycles has come into my possesion and is now my faithful mode of tranpsortation to pretty much anywhere. Second, you must have noticed by now that St. Blackie is more that just a saint-bicycle; she has proven to be a multi-talented fabricaton with a keen 'ear' for music.
Well, theres a new sound in St. Blackie's fold. A drumming and clanking sound. Sounds like a not-so skilled drummer on a brand new set of drums hammering away at it and driving me mad. A lesser man would have gone mad by now, but not me. I have actually started to pick up songs from the infernal racket being emitted by this saint of ours. The other day I could distinctly pick out the beats to 'Real World' by Matchbox 20.
In this vein, methinks I will paint a banner and stick it at the back of the saint, with the words BRASS BAND AUDITIONS embalzoned across it seeing that at this rate, I will soon have a choir riding behind me to make use of the beats being belted out by St. Blsckie. I'm thinking of picking up my guitar and writing a song accompanied by St. Blackie; only problem is, someone needs to be riding for the music to come forth; any takers?
One must have realised by now that the Mother Teresa of bicycles has come into my possesion and is now my faithful mode of tranpsortation to pretty much anywhere. Second, you must have noticed by now that St. Blackie is more that just a saint-bicycle; she has proven to be a multi-talented fabricaton with a keen 'ear' for music.
Well, theres a new sound in St. Blackie's fold. A drumming and clanking sound. Sounds like a not-so skilled drummer on a brand new set of drums hammering away at it and driving me mad. A lesser man would have gone mad by now, but not me. I have actually started to pick up songs from the infernal racket being emitted by this saint of ours. The other day I could distinctly pick out the beats to 'Real World' by Matchbox 20.
In this vein, methinks I will paint a banner and stick it at the back of the saint, with the words BRASS BAND AUDITIONS embalzoned across it seeing that at this rate, I will soon have a choir riding behind me to make use of the beats being belted out by St. Blsckie. I'm thinking of picking up my guitar and writing a song accompanied by St. Blackie; only problem is, someone needs to be riding for the music to come forth; any takers?
Friday, November 07, 2008
Ngeli ya Baikeli III; Eye of the tiger
There is this general notion in the world that every single entity has some semblance of existence in it, be it living or dead. It is strange I know, and maybe one of those theories of existence that those who have beliefs but had rather not have them tagged as religious follow; as I said I don't know but day by day I am begining to believe in that theory; not in its enterity, but small aspects of it.
How so? Well, if you have been following this by now you must have herad of St. Blackie the most magnanimous and selfless bicycle invented. I am honoured to get onto that bicycle daily as it makes my daily commute possible. Perhaps maybe if you are lost at this point then go a step or two back and figure out just why St. Blackie's magnanimity is noteworthy.
My baiskeli, St. blackie, has been upto her mischief again. The cacaphony of noises it has picked up of late sounds like the introductory beat of Survivor's Eye of the tiger. I know this becasue;
a) I happen to really like that song and it a superb moment when I play it off my machine before I head off to campus; and
b) I have to listen as the little gremlins in the structure of St. Blackie playing as if auditioning to be part of the Beatles all over again.
I have often snickered at this bicycle of mine and made loud noises and a couple of big worded insults at it whenever it makes noise and believe it or not, I'm quite inclined to believe that she heard and understood me. No don't sit there with that look of perplexed indignation; it is not only plausible , probable but also downright possible.
The other day as I was riding home, I went over a speed bump then she intentionally moved the pedal one cycle back so that it clonked (yes that is a word!) me on the back of my heel and at the same time she assumed control of the bike as if to show me who's in charge. Of course it was a struggle of epic proportions to calm her down. When calm was finally restored and a sort of equilibrum was achieved, she picked up her infernal racket again and after listening to her for a while, I'm thinking of recording a whole set of her greatest hits and making them a CD and sell it off for a whole load of money and perhaps some fame. Perhaps then I will finally get a chance to repaint her and replace all those squeaky gremlins with quiet, more efficient ones who will only keep the bike moving.
Oh, ps, St. Blackie has picked up another sound, a rasping one that sounds like a wood chipper turned to low power, it is a quite a bike I tell you.
How so? Well, if you have been following this by now you must have herad of St. Blackie the most magnanimous and selfless bicycle invented. I am honoured to get onto that bicycle daily as it makes my daily commute possible. Perhaps maybe if you are lost at this point then go a step or two back and figure out just why St. Blackie's magnanimity is noteworthy.
My baiskeli, St. blackie, has been upto her mischief again. The cacaphony of noises it has picked up of late sounds like the introductory beat of Survivor's Eye of the tiger. I know this becasue;
a) I happen to really like that song and it a superb moment when I play it off my machine before I head off to campus; and
b) I have to listen as the little gremlins in the structure of St. Blackie playing as if auditioning to be part of the Beatles all over again.
I have often snickered at this bicycle of mine and made loud noises and a couple of big worded insults at it whenever it makes noise and believe it or not, I'm quite inclined to believe that she heard and understood me. No don't sit there with that look of perplexed indignation; it is not only plausible , probable but also downright possible.
The other day as I was riding home, I went over a speed bump then she intentionally moved the pedal one cycle back so that it clonked (yes that is a word!) me on the back of my heel and at the same time she assumed control of the bike as if to show me who's in charge. Of course it was a struggle of epic proportions to calm her down. When calm was finally restored and a sort of equilibrum was achieved, she picked up her infernal racket again and after listening to her for a while, I'm thinking of recording a whole set of her greatest hits and making them a CD and sell it off for a whole load of money and perhaps some fame. Perhaps then I will finally get a chance to repaint her and replace all those squeaky gremlins with quiet, more efficient ones who will only keep the bike moving.
Oh, ps, St. Blackie has picked up another sound, a rasping one that sounds like a wood chipper turned to low power, it is a quite a bike I tell you.
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