I Am Your Hooker

A poem by Richard de Nooy

I love this man's writing!

The full post on Book Southern Africa can be read here.

I Am Your Hooker

DU NOOOOOY!
WHAT IN THE NAME
OF ALL THINGS HOLY
DO YOU THINK
YOU ARE DOING?
YOU! ARE! MY! HOOKER!
AND WHEN I SAY TACKLE
YOU TACKLE, YOU DOOS!
YOU DO NOT STOP AND THINK!”

But I like thinking, sir. And reading. And soccer, sir.

SOCCER IS FOR KAFFIRS AND QUEERS, DU NOOY!
AND YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE A KAFFIR,
SO YOU MUST BE A QUEER!

It takes one to know one, sir.

Is what I should have said
but didn’t,
Which is why I write:

Dear Sir,
Thank you for causing me so much pain and embarrassment
That I shall spend a lifetime seeking words to express my rage.
To me you are an endless source of inspiration.
And I shall always remain
Your kaffir, your queer, your hooker.

PS: May the screams of a thousand schoolboys torment your dreams
And may the men of a hundred scrums drink beer in your rectum.

6ix Fang Marks and a Tetanus Shot by Richard de Nooy

It is not often that one finds a book that you read with a strange mixture of awe, delight, slight confusion, and sheer horror. 6ix fang marks and a Tetanus shot is one of those books.
It is mankind’s gain that Richard de Nooy finally decided to come out of the closet as a novelist. He has a wit as sharp as a mother-in-law’s tongue and is very talented scribe and artist. I say artist because it takes immense skill and talent to enthrall adults with a story like one would a pre-school group with a fairytale. While reading this book I, a bloody cynic, found myself in the same state of enchantment that I can recall whilst listening to my first grade teacher telling us a story.
In the foreword Richard warns the reader that you will be lied to. However, I caught myself on a few occasions actually believing every word of it. Descriptions of people and places are so authentic that one can easily believe it to be reality. Parts of the story are told by Ysbrand de Heer, presumably de Nooy’s alter ego. Is this one of the many twists in the cat’s tail? I still do not know what is fact and what is fiction and that makes it a remarkable and extremely well written story.
It is a tale of an extraordinary relationship between two brothers growing up in South Africa during the 70’s and 80’s in a somewhat dysfunctional family in a totally dysfunctional society. This tender and remarkable bond grows stronger as the brothers mature, primarily due to one’s proneness to accidents which leaves the other to pick up the pieces over and over again until one fatal day when the roles gets reversed. The bond gets cemented with a dark secret that the two brothers share and explains why Ace has the patience of a Saint with Rem’s frequent mishaps.
The reader gets transported back and forth in time and space; Johannesburg, Amsterdam and Namibia. The ingenuity with which the two brothers solve the problem of Rem getting hit by a tram in Amsterdam can only be described as brilliant and totally hilarious in its tragedy.
Rem takes on the role as a war correspondent who returns to South Africa. In doing so he manages to pull together bits and pieces that, at first might seem unconnected. But in the end each and every little snippet of information connects the events together, leading the reader deeper and deeper into the two brothers’ private hell.
Frequent quotes from e.g. Joseph & Schwarts regarding accident proneness are some of those snippets that serve to underline the absurdity of being a shit magnet as Ace puts it.
“Frankl (1963) studied a number of children intensively, reaching the conclusion that accident proneness is related both to the function of self-preservation and to the existence of certain age-specific conflicts in infancy, childhood and adolescence.”
Whilst following the brothers all the way from childhood to maturity ample examples are given of how the quote relate to the two boys.
Quite a few quotes will stay with me for a long time but to mention one:
“You are quite fokken stupid to be a student you know.”
What led up to that comment from a police officer involved a hand brake and an impressive intake of booze. Want to know what that was all about? Read the book! It is a superb story.
Initially a few things plagued me at the end of the book: I felt that void that comes with the conclusion of a ‘feel good book.’ I wanted to read more! And what the heck happened to one of the key characters when he disappeared like a bat out of hell, but true to form, in a much sneakier way? Is the darkest of secrets the brothers shared fact or fiction?
But then I learnt with pleasure that de Nooy have already completed a new book called Zacht als Staal (Soft as Steel) again narrated by JR Deo. Rem gets involved in the story about halfway through. He befriends the main character (a gay Afrikaans lad called Staal) and the readers of 6 Fang Marks and a Tetanus Shot will then learn what happened to Rem after he left Ace’s attic and how he became JR Deo.
I can’t wait to get my hands on the new book. I have already started going to gym to prepare for the bloody combat, with my wife, that is sure to erupt if I dare to try and read it first.
6ix Fang Marks and a Tetanus Shot is a brilliant story told by a man who possesses an intense understanding of human nature.
The book is published by Jacana and also available at Amazon and kalahari.net

When water is thicker than blood (1972)

It was five minutes into our 2^nd break. On this day the matrics were acting really childish. It was their last week of school and their juvenile antics were starting to get on my nerves. Gone was the prim and proper behavior of the past year, replaced by conduct one would normally associate with a primary school. I was getting truly pissed off. Part of my mood was of course due to jealousy. Jealous that I could not be one of them, like my brother, that will soon shrug off the shackles of a verkrampte predominantly Afrikaans school. A school where we were subjected to weekly hair inspections and that only allowed short back and sides. Square cuts were out. Hell they even had weekly panty inspections carried out by the sexless croons that were but a few years away from retirement. Somehow they believed that this would fortify chastity. It did not help or make sense. It was just for the show. No teenager would dare to try and get leg-over at school. The teenagers still fucked like rabbits and annually quite a few unwanted pregnancies saw the light. This of course was totally taboo at the time and resulted in great shame on the families involved. South Africa never really experienced the free love of the 60’s or swinging 70’s. We had three 50’s and went right into the 80’s. Maybe the panty inspections were done to keep the male teachers from lusting after the teenage girls as there was quite a lot of that going on behind the scenes.

The paper water bomb hit me so hard in my face that my nose started bleeding. It was a big one, made and thrown by Hendrik Bruwer, the star flanker of the first rugby team who two weeks prior had broken his nose rather badly in a rugby match. I was soaked from the top of my head to mid-chest and a thin trickle of blood was making a rather interesting abstract pink artwork on my white school shirt. Around me everyone were screeching with laughter. Hendrik was big. He easily had 6 inches and 25lbs on me. That however did not deter me and we were soon circling each other like two peacocks. Hendrik’s girlfriend kept on shouting: “It was only a joke, please, it was only a joke.”

Hendrik tried his best to talk his way out of the fight. He was a school monitor and he did not know what to make of me because very few would dare to challenge him. I also had a reputation as a brawler and was the provincial boxing champ in my weight group. He however believed that his sheer bulk was more than a match for me. I was apprehensive but knew about his weak spot, his nose, and stood my ground. He threatened and blustered to get out of the situation but I was not going to back down. He refused to apologize as he maintained that it was an accident. He stated that he did not intend to hit me and also could not afford to lose face in front of his girlfriend and mates. He started to get really insulting. Telling me that I might believe that I was a force to be reckoned within the confines of the filthy and poor military base where we lived but that I was a bloody nobody in town i.e. the real world. This in turn wounded my brother deeply as he was ashamed of the humble conditions we lived in and also believed that Hendrik was his close friend. My brother tried to hide his hurt and thus minimize the effect of the insult by saying: “Ag moer him Hendrik.” (“Oh fuck him up Hendrik”)

I felt something inside of me tear and knew that it would never mend again. My brother turned on me to hide his shame. I saw red and when the mist cleared Hendrik was lying curled up on the tarmac clutching his nose with both hands trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of blood. Apparently I hit him with a swift left to the nose and broke it in the exact same spot as before. I searched for my brother amongst the shocked onlookers but he was nowhere to be seen.

It is now 38 years since my brother and I have done no more than acknowledge each other’s existence. We treat one another with respect but aloofness. Love and the family bond are not recognized.

Hendrik’s rugby career ended that day and I got caned six of the best from the vice-principal who was also the rugby coach.

A Summer Prayer

Dear God,

We will be leaving for our summer break soon.

Please help me utilize all of my senses to enjoy what You have to offer.

May I meet interesting and wonderful people.

May I not be able to read them. I mean that literally. May I meet just one attractive person without a tattoo, please!

May I not fear lightning when I’m around them because of studs, rings and other vulgar forms of body piercings.

May they be beautiful and if it’s not too much to ask... please, may the women have pubic hair?

Amen

Icky creatures in need of squashing

I’ve been putting this off for quite a while but I need to air my views about a slimy, idiotic, repulsive breed called racists. In South Africa it does not take much for them to come out of the woodwork. Just give them a crisis and out they pop. They have now become so bold that they even venture out of their closed newsgroups onto forums usually reserved for sane people. Any criticism of the government or ANC leadership somehow leads these creatures to believe that they have a green light to spew forth their hate speech.

According to their pedestrian reasoning you automatically become “one of them” just because you address the shortcomings of political leaders. That really makes my skin crawl. They just don’t get it. I do not deal with race in my criticism. I do not believe in white supremacy or black inferiority and I would like to see them and their kind forced to colonise Jupiter without the luxury of spacesuits. They make me want to embark on a severe bout of projectile vomiting and make me ashamed of being “white”.

But why are they so bold? What makes the White Trash feel safe to express their nauseating views and opinions? How can they be so unrepentant?

On average, white people in South Africa believe that just knowing someone that voted yes in the referendum in 1992 is enough of an apology for apartheid. There I have said it. Very few have really confronted the fact that they allowed a monstrous system to inflict inhuman suffering on millions of their fellow citizens. Fewer still have apologized for this or mended their ways. Most just shrug it off as something that was done by others. They do not seem to realize how lucky they were to get off so lightly.

Nothing was done to make them change their views after 1994 and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is to blame. Or rather political deals struck behind the scenes and implemented by the TRC are to blame.

Yes, once more I am accusing that sub-human species called politicians for this state of affairs.

Why could the military walk away unscarred when it is a known fact that some of the worst atrocities were committed by its members? Was there a fear of an uprising and that one part of the security forces was left free to walk in case their services would be needed? Was it because the military was in possession of information that could compromise some leading members of the new dispensation? Was it because the military still carried so much clout that the plans for a coup were still on the table? One can but speculate.

In my mind there is absolutely no doubt that the military was left off the hook because of some behind-the-scene political manoeuvring.

That is the only reason the military could get away with their atrocities committed in other countries including the Bantustans. Senior ANC officials could not allow scrutiny of their actions and activities inflicted on their own in penal battalions amongst other things. That is why the scope of the TRC got narrowed down to investigate only atrocities committed within the borders of South Africa. A convenient way to keep the ANC’s atrocities in places like Angola under wraps. The fact that a deeper investigation into atrocities could have led to the exposure of spies, agents and double-agents of the Apartheid regime is also of some relevance here.

The biggest failure of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa was and will always be the message subconsciously sent to the white population of South Africa:

“It is OK. You can carry on living your lives as before and take no notice of our proceedings.”

Failure to investigate and prosecute known perpetrators and murderers created a comfort-zone for the average white South African. If known and self-confessed murderers did not get prosecuted, why on Earth then should the whites change their opinions and attitudes when it comes to the issues of race and humanity? No-one ever felt any heat for being part of a racist society for decades. No stick or carrot was used to encourage a change of their way of life after democracy was introduced. It got treated with more or less indifference and life just went on as before.

A grave injustice was done to the population of South Africa by not utilising the full potential of the TRC. ANC politicians are as much to blame for the fact that racism is still alive and well in my country as the ones that fought for and supported the cause of Apartheid. They were in too much of a hurry to get on the gravy-train.

Callous indifference towards the plight of your electorate is just as despicable as gross violations of human rights.

*Excerpts from Africa Will Always Break Your heart used.

Newsflash! Intercept of CIA briefing

See we told President Kennedy that commie bastard would not last in Cuba.

Rainbow Nation and other Illusions

A rainbow does not exist. It is an optical illusion. A magic trick of Mother Nature beautiful to behold but that’s the only way you can experience it.

The same applies for the Rainbow Nation of South Africa as it’s an illusion and just window-dressing for the rest of the world. It remains a dream and a tangible thing it is not. Anyone who states differently is lying. They are bullshitting and they all know it. Still, they would rather die than admit to failure. They will patronizingly tell you that they are busy with “nation-building” while they widely practice racism and bigotry. Theirs is a noble quest not to be questioned. Especially not by the likes of me that decided to leave because I prefer not to be murdered by criminals. You see, according to them, plain common sense now equates a traitor and racist. Because I opted to leave South Africa when the opportunity was offered I am a bad, very bad person. The ones that do not have the means or opportunity are now acting as if they are exercising free will and choice by staying. Therefore they should be praised for bravery and noble actions as they are the ones who are busy with nation-building.

Show me someone that turned down the opportunity to leave and I will show you a severe comprehension disability.

This however does not stop the condescending prigs who try to patronize me by telling me that they are too busy with their noble quest to acknowledge the likes of me. Where do you come from when treating me like rubbish? Because I dared to leave South Africa I get depicted as a racist traitor by the snot-nosed spawn of some bleeding heart lefty liberal lunatics who should have known better than to procreate. The fruit of their loins is ample proof that they should have travelled to Swaziland for that back-room abortion they discussed and considered at the time.

The illusion does not end there. Rather than to admit that they are gullible fools who fell for the cons of their appointed leaders, a large part of the population will fiercely attack anyone who criticizes the said political leaders. All of a sudden “respect” is the most important facet defined by the spirit of Ubuntu. The ones who dare to point out that politicians actually steal and are criminally incompetent apparently do not understand this weird culture.

Cut the crap, people! It is not that difficult to admit that you have been conned. And don’t tell me that I do not understand your culture. There is nothing mysterious about African culture anymore. We have not travelled back in time to the days of the first explorers of the Dark Continent. If your culture preaches that one must have respect for criminals and incompetent idiots then I do not want to know about it. A culture like that is backward and inferior and don’t call me a racist because I am stating a fact. How dare you put an argument like that forward and expect the rest of the civilized world to take you serious? Grow up! Criticism of the ANC is not treason, as preached by the leaders of the organization. It is just a ploy to ensure large numbers of blind followers.

I will probably be crucified for this article. Maybe I should leave comments about that hellhole to those who feel prone to massive coronary or to the ones that like to wallow in self-deception because whichever way I turn, in the eyes of many I will always have my foot in my mouth.

A fact that I’m strangely comfortable with…

It is after all better than living in total denial.