Belong (Verb)
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.



Have you ever thought about what this word means against the backdrop of losing something dear to you or a loved one? The two, obviously, are not one and the same. If it is a material thing that you have lost chances are it can be replaced. Better still you can upgrade the ‘it’ to an even a newer version or a better ‘thing’. But for the mere fact that it is a thing it will always be obliterated by time even if you have fond memories of ‘it’. A day will come where someone will give you a hint that time is running out – you must get rid of that thing and get a newer version, both to fit in and to move with the times.


The Remake

The remake of Robocop can only restore the myth par excellence of the original Robocop that first emerged in the late 80s only if it does not have a sequel. What will be there to say? Considering the original motion picture had a trail of sequels that shifted away from the original matrix of what the original was what about and stifled the myth of the man tragically killed in the line of duty only to be resurrected by a technology whose capitalist backers ends going cancer on each other as far as the lucrative business of stopping crime is concerned.


The artist’s demise

And when an artist has met their demise the world would marvel wide eye awed by the genius of their work. The critic will evoke their deeds when he sets out to make sense of it all, while the art historian attempts to wedge that creative’s life into the fabric of our memory might just spawn and stir that artist into solidity such that generations to come cannot but pay their respect to his person before they claim their place in the assemblies of the art world whatever their preoccupations. How sad and sweet is the life of an artist is! A contradiction.

But the artist while blessed with a yoke of health must just respond to the outside stimuli. An artist must work. Must produce. They must search and must discover, they must draw our ignorant attention to the world we inhabit. They must ask for nothing in return except our attention which they can gain through innovation enshrined in hard work and self discipline. For surely the world will remain judgmental of the artist, as it is never impartial to anyone preoccupied with reworking the boundaries or toppling them altogether…


28 June

mmutle arthur kgokong 2014

The golden soil

The Bridge

Moje’kJoe Papapaah felt like deserting the bridge for a while: It would be a while before the Jotmaster and the apprentice return from their expedition of the current textual chain. Moments earlier when he checked the monitor all was well with them within the tex-Ah-verse. And outside of the cockpit he observed that the alpha numerical belts were stable as the hover craft cruised smoothly. It could be an hour or so before they crack the current code. At any rate the Jotmaster preferred to move cautiously in these matters, preferring to savour every detail of the pseudo reality erected by the alphanumerical belts. While the two were gone this could be the opportunity to indulge in his own fancies, a trip involving art. He looked at his smart chronograph strapped on his left wrist.  With a long press at the centre of the digital dial the rectangular screen was pervaded by a vibgyor spectrum after it disperse the arms. He mimicked the number 1-9-4-0-, and an  inflection ’ chasing – S.


Tag Two

*/a nickname or a description by which someone or something is likely known/
/when someone is acknowledged in a photo of someone within the internet/
*n.b. See Oxford Paperback Dictionary Thesaurus & Wordpower Guide p925.

Enter January. If you thought dizzy tyd krissano is lazy-laid back by way of timing I reckon you haven’t lived through January on a poor bank balance and a queue of wolves eyeing your scrawny wallet bidding their tick-tocks for month end to come because surely it will nosy in. But January is slow as a scrap of a taxi on a late Monday morning. This is the time where you look back through a smoothly clearing fog of ecstasy while reality sets in. If you are a resolution type of a dude nothing will make you more determined on you than this month, the jotmaster, for your sake hopes it does not catch you commuting on a scrap of a taxi. Talk about reality setting in.



/An act of choosing/the right or ability to choose/


Presently I have decided to go with two definitions given for the current word-expo. With that said here we go – Imagine that you are a child of not more than 6 years of age in a candy section of a super store with your paps or moms out on a little shopping spree to stoke up the supplies at home.

By this time at your age it has been hammered into your soft snug skull that you cannot demand sweeties until the starches, oils, spreads and meats and drinks have been acquired. Unless of course if you are full of tricky tantrums when you do not get your way with your folks and are able to demand the goodies immediately when you arrive at the super store because your parents yields to your manipulations, this qualifies you to a spoiled brat strand. Ideally speaking that is, the second scenario is not appealing to people who want their young to survive as adults. Good natured adults like your folks have made hay while time allowed, they broke you ‘’cause they want their little one to grow up in a responsible way and like the Setswana saying goes le gong le ojwa lo sa le metsi (you have to guide the growth of a tree so that it does not grow crocked and not bear fruits once it sets).


Invasion X

‘It is the year 2010 in the morning, June 16 and in Pretoria-Tshwane people in the street going to work and school are even fewer than usually; mouth covered as it has become customary to wear surgical masks….’ So reports the one hour radio broadcasting, I remotely wind the volume down and switch it off to write an entry to be submitting to 4thWALL. The television programming has become defunct. However by some weird force of technology the Cybersphere continues to hold henceforth bloggers continue to log on and blog not to forget to mention Facebookers who are also party to the feeding of the net. But dear reader this is not the point of the present fable.

On a worse note those who are relying on public means of transportation to get around are stranded because the Consolidated Workers of Public Transportations (CWPTs) are on strike. And those who are weak are bed ridden due to the Donkey Flue Pandemic. It is estimated that more adults than children have contaminated the deadly virus. Apparently children have proven more resistant to the infection of the deadly virus. At least that is what was known before the government Nurses and Doctors went on a national strike due to wages and working condition… (Cough)

Worse the first World Cup to be held in Africa has been canceled due to the scourge of DFP (you guessed right, Donkey Flue Pandemic)… (Sniff) Aids and other chronic illnesses, that seek medication, continue to wipe away those in whom it has advanced. It seems as if the mechanism that has always fuelled humanity has come to a stand still. As I write this entry I am quarantined in my own home with my wife and the children. As it is we are at what has been termed the third face of DFP…(Guff)

Meaning we are sneezing and coughing terribly to be let out into the surgical mask clad wide world for fear of passing the disease to other people in this advance stage. So we must perish in our nest. Perhaps the children will recover and outlive us. After our demise what will follow will be sanitization of our little flat and the removal of what will be remaining of our emaciated bodies. So as you read this gory (sniff) tale, in perhaps 2020 or so you might be wondering what went wrong. Well one thing that I can let out to you with my little understanding of how creation operates is that human beings from creation onwards they have always competed with diseases. They have learnt how to manage and elude them as they advanced scientifically. We were at the stage where only our carelessness will destroy us when DFP Struck – our doom. And I much suspect that that is why we are dying – we were careless. (Guff)

…on the other hand our life in this planet, in addition to fighting with viruses, has also been subjected to economic survival game or war if you will, henceforth the strikes of CWPTs as well as our health workers. You will be surprised that somehow those who are having medical aid schemes seem to be holding up the disease due to their affordability of ADV (Anti Donkey Vaccine I think it is called) drug taken monthly. Thus the DFP is doing the rounds with poor souls who cannot afford medical aids schemes because they cannot access medical attention at the public health sector. In our household we have depleted funds in our medical aid scheme henceforth the subjection to quarantine by medical detectives. Those who are still well and are clad with surgical masks can’t even earn their meagre wages because the CWPTs are on strike.

Movement is restricted. My dizzy thoughts remind me of a televised interview I saw in 2007 of the president of SAMA (South African Medical Association) on ‘House Call’. During the interview he argued that the conditions in which the doctors (Gruff) were working were unattractive henceforth South Africa was losing good medical doctors and nurses to the private sector and as well as to outside countries, especially the West. When questioned what could be done He gave a radical proposition as an attempt to turn the situation around; he said if the government were to reduce the medical aid grants to its employee or even to cut them altogether to encourage the usage of government hospital – This way the state can invest money into the improvement of hospitals and the working conditions of the doctors and nurses. Thus the environment would be attractive to our South African doctors and nurses. (sniff)

As much as this idea was radical at the time when I heard it, I wish someone in the powerhouse of our state could have taken heed. Perhaps when the swine Flue broke out in the backyard of Latin America last year more doctors and nurses working in good working conditions in our state hospitals will have been our first arsenal against rot and agony that we smell and feel around us today (cough). As for the CWPTs it is a question of management and capacity. In South Africa the taxi industry has thrived without government interference for years. It was initially put in place by a people who have been ostracised to use the government transportation in the days of the great social divide – in apartness times. Before being absorbed (gruff-snuff), the government should have studied the taxi industry in the context of South African culture in order to appreciate its nature; meaning taxi routes, tariffs, challenges, incentives and aspiration and came up with an African solution. Meanwhile (cough, sniff, gruff…

April 30

© Mmutle Arthur Kgokong 2009