The Writerly Bug Juice: An Eulogy for Bok

I have no recollection how we got Fifi boxed in that afternoon. It was raining lightly and as the raindrops dews splattered gently besides the drain furrow, moistening the soil and collecting into streams around us to flowing into the furrow where our tussle was underway as our figures wrestled that of Fifi. Three against one. The power of memory is able to jolt scenes into stark relief without their sources except the impressions left behind by byways that lead us there time and again for a lifetime.


Diary entry 24 April 2016

optical jacket1Many thanks to those of you who continue to support our facebook page and blog There are a couple of works in the pipeline for Intraparadox series so do stay linked and synced we will be posting soon. These upcoming works are interviews with artists. As it is tradition they are long, averaging around 40 to 60 minutes. Yes we know, who has the time to read lengthy stuff, right?


Hindsight: Of Big Bosses and Minions


HISTORYAs South African political parties diverge in different directions this weekend across our country to launch their political manifestoes sandwiched with promises and posturing ahead of the oncoming local government elections on  3 August 2016 an uneasiness pervades the employees of the City of Tshwane and their families who have been renting apartments and houses from the municipality.


Hindsight: A *stand-Off/us vs the rest

*a deadlock between two equally matched opponents

HISTORYI actually was contemplating doing a piece on the vandalism of the sculptures that represent our colonial past as well as the apartheid regime, however the recent Xenophobic1 violence that have awaken our country from it’s a stupor takes my pen’s attention towards its contemplation. The sculptures and the old regime’s memorabilia will have to wait; I suspect though, with the current rate of tension here and there in our country that before long that issue will re-occupy our national agenda just as xenophobia takes it turn again presently. But even as I respond in the present jotting I must confess to the reader that I am not best suited to offer a voice on the matter at hand. I am not confident. I am a writer enthusiast and writers write. May I press this point further by highlighting to the reader that what follows is my own observation of the situation that is unfolding in front of us; a meditation by all accounts. These scribbling can be seen in the final analysis as a subjective reaction of a South African


Hindsight: South Africa, it is time to Study Apartheid

Copy of 2dThis is not an exhaustive exposition, it is a comment. There is so much that is going on in our country at the moment that gets one’s tongue wagging about the possibility of a bleak prospect as far as our future is concerned even if it is done in the safe haven of our closed doors. South Africans find themselves at a point whereby either fully acknowledge the problem that’s facing them or wait for a full scale implosion as far as race is concerned. For lack of space in the present article I do not want to focus on particulars of incidents that point to us that race continues to be a problem in our country neither do I have a fully fledged arsenal that can assist us in this regard as much as I desire to delve into an informed analysis, which might of course take time to be finished and whenever when that happens I might risk speaking above the reader. So I will shoot from the hip.


Diary entry 10 January

What does it feel like when your phone is on the tv stand? Let’s increase the distance, what does it feel like when it is in another room or better still when you leave it at home only to discover during your trip to work or school that you are without it? Nerving isn’t? They have become sticky things them cell phones them, neh. Our hook up to them often reminds me of the advert of the guy trying to quit smoking and the cigarette box is stuck on his hand while he tries to throw it in the bin. He goes for a patch or a chewing gum to free himself of the smokes. Social media networks, a blessing of our time or a curse for those who cherish privacy? Watch out for our next piece: Presence in absence in the Land of the Bunched Hunched Up People to be blogged on 13 January 2015, it’s an article dedicated to the television and film screenwriter, travel writer and the weekly columnist for The Times – Darrel Bristow-Bovey



© Mmutle Arthur Kgokong 2015

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Intraparadoxical contemplation

ïntraparadox is a coinage for the phenomena that occurs during an interview with an artist. Like any human being out there an artist has their own convictions and contradictions; for they are social animals. So intraparadox, as a dialogue produced as a result of an interview with the artist, is like an x-ray process that reveals the nature of the artist, their life and their art practice. It is important then that it, intraparadox, be written word for word based on the audio file gathered during the moment of interview with the artist, for I would like to present as closest an account as possible of the artist’s persona to the reader – a portrait of the artist. The reading must produce a reflection of the personality of the artist as it is, as it would be encountered when the reader, should the occasion present itself, meet the artist in person! The interview should be an intimate encounter of the artist in conversation about their work – this is the first task of writing the text. Secondly, during the interview as the ideals upheld by the artist emerge, teased out and made bare as the conversation develops around pertinent issues the artist is preoccupied with in their art production or practice; issues which might emerge during the dialogue, it is hoped, that an opportunity will be afforded the reader to delve deeper into the conception of the visual art object apropos to the  artist undergoing the interview


Generation X: The return?

ßY the time you read this, Generations will be back on your screen. That is if you care about what’s on television. I am happy to report that it now boasts a subtitle nog al – it’s now called Generations ‘The Legacy’, which makes it sound hip and akin to some video game sequel or action movie flick of some sort; you just have to add an x or y to the title to heighten the tension of great expectations the title alone carries. Mara akere Generations is a soap opera, so the action you are bound to see will be limited to the scheming of character so and so to take down character so and so or z kissing with k or d was born an orphan or is an illegitimate child of q and p and has evil brewing within him and it will soon spew out in a feast of vengeance. I doubt though that this new Generations will have the same charm that it had before it went POOFoff for a spell following a hiatus with the previous actors who demanded higher wages in addition to an array of assortment bounty basket of employment conditions. The actors who ai-ai, ha, ai-ai, ha! – toi toiyingly flexed their muscles were subsequently fired. But besides the solidarity that some viewers showed to those axed actors, latterly the soapy lacked something. Deniably this fact groped at the back of our skulls like a shadowy problem masquerading as a tiny rock in our shoe, bugging us with each step and draining us of all amusement, Hao. We knew this even as we migrated to other channels in order to prove to Mfundi et al that we needed those actors back on our screen! We knew that something was wrong.


Evanescent Friendship

*Soon passing out of sight, memory or existence


ΤΗΣ day I found friendship was the day Desmond and I were caught by surprise by a low flying airplane while playing on a mound of sand at my grandmother’s backyard one summer’s day. Having being forced earlier to drink castor oil by our mothers who happened to be affectionate friends, we messed our pants when we scurried away in a fright-flight away from the big iron monstrosity that streak-hovered passed us like a big gong bell.


The Evanescent POST

*The official service or system that delivers letters and parcels

I have been waiting ages for some items I have ordered oversee. Actually for special effects purposes this opening line stretches the period immensely. But it does feel like a long time ago compared to the previous times when I had ordered books or electronics devises from oversee and used my post box address. Usually the items will reach me in or within a month’s time. The whole waiting period back then had been normalized. What is a month if you know for sure that you will receive your items? And you find solace in the thought that your nosy neighbors won’t have an opportunity to claw and sniff at your parcel with curiosity at your apartment block before you marvel at it with bated breath prior to its ceremonious unwrapping.