*The beginning of this something
*The painless killing of a patient suffering from an incurable disease or irreversible coma
THERE is a saying in township parlance that when a person is afflicted with an incurable disease and have withered away as a result they are left with one bar or the last bar. This metaphorically relates to the battery gauge of a cell phone which when the battery is low either the animated battery appears skeletal of blinks rapidly often accompanied by an alert tone alerting the owner that the instrument needs a power recharge. It is general knowledge what will happen if one fails to charge the battery before it is completely depleted. You will be off the grid of communication.
*Euthanasia, I must confess that the first time I heard this word I thought it made a sophisticated sound and that its mere intonation itself heralded things of delightfulness. ‘Euthanasia’, I remember vividly to some extent that it was one of the topics chosen by those who reveled in the art of debate during one summer in the late 90s spent involved in a community initiative that was attached to Atteridgeville Community Library. The guy who came up with this pseudo delightful word was a scrawny fellow, bespectacled and as thin as they come – such fellows – whose noses dunk in books, are always preoccupied with searching for answers of the world that envelopes us. But on the light hearted side of the present fabrication mention must be made that the fellow in question was endowed with a particular sense of humor if not a rare charm that often suspended the fact that he was nerdy. His repertoire came full circle particularly when he was at the highest pitch of gesticulations of his preoccupations and before him, in a manner of speaking that is, the fairer sex was taking note.
1. Be rightfully put into a particular position or class. 2. Fit or be acceptable in a particular place or situation
It will be great if one could return to the tradition of making a fuss about nothing. I call it improvisation writing. A writing process wherein you let the words flow spontaneously by themselves while you guide flow minimally a sort of automatic writing if you will. Our anchor in this jot is the word ‘belong’, a verb.
Let’s move. One’s brain is not wired like a scientific calculator – A behemoth during my scholastic days way yonder in Phelendaba. I loved mathematics but alas my brain could not fathom the intricacies of the magical trigonometry nor geometry. As for the fractions I always imagined that they were like mean machines caressing the innards lines of the A4 hard cover college exercise book reeking confusion in my already delicate brain but alas I must confess that I loved algebra for for 1 me there was a mysterious aura that the letter x carried. You were the investigator trying to make sense what is it that made x so alluring. What it stood for. So a particular number, after a laborious outing on your part, you were to learn, was x. I know this is jargon especially for those who don’t give a whiffie whaff about math. That particular number or x belonged to the entire problem hitherto presented to the mathematical investigator – you. And should you be amongst the enlighten ones who cracked it it gave you a joyous release more glorious than the debut coital release.
/different from the one already mentioned/
Let us roll with an expression this time around as part of our joviality to celebrate our 21 posting. 21 is my divine number. Now you know a little bit about me. If it tickles your Sherlock Holmes fancy bones I invite you to dig what it is exactly that is divine for me about 21. Here is a little clue, it is there in our Posthighdef’21 blog and you also find it in this very blog 21Column.