Song of the solitary left eye tear drop by Paul Njabulo Vilakazi - HTML preview

Chapter Two

THEN THE COUPLE DICIDED TO REPAIR TO TEAMSWALLO ‘S HOME FOR THE

AFTERNOON

Sitting in the lounge on whose side table are perched a number of African Artefacts

and soft African music is playing in the background , Less Uvalo led the new topic with

a very poignantly pertinent question:

‘ Cuz,de universal vote 2024 is gonna cosmetically change de complexshon of most of

de world;but den how do yo reckon dis one Plantashon, gonna look, smell , breathe en

piss like , after 29f May 2024?’

Teamswallos responding ‘ Cuz,there aint much of a demiurge force showing itself

,other than abundant political photo opps, posturing, and thanks God,very little cross-

political insults flying about ,though there are revved up goings in out of court over

names, logos and even slogans...

Together with this, there is a U.S. , Donald Trump factor having shown up in spectre of

an aged former Plantation’s Head Honcho back to give true to form a hugely body

jive and eviscerate all round with horns up, allowing the reawakening of a

recalibrated putsch dunked in this once Don Past Lord Over Life as the direct and

indirect ‘make believes’ and all clearly viciously threatened, showing in and out of

supposed portending two war- rooms, their feigned ‘affections’ and ‘disaffections’ all

in a more than well orchestrated charade far smarter than the in court -out of court

Stalingrad poses forced upon the imaginations of all and sundry…Missus’

‘philanthropic ,’ political funder , ain’t seen nothing yet , in her rheumy dream of

‘aiding democracy’ Cuz…

This is nothing but an in-house Traditional Big Honcho Party and its camouflaged Jim

Come Lately ‘offshoot’ is wielding a deliberately sullied trump card ,that most citizens

won’t be able to clearly see through and make head or tail of the most fleshy plot,

likely long wrought in the very maw of the Most Cunning Party ever, since

Broederbond machinery…

Whilst of all the very incumbent Head Honcho of the party is in a more non-viscerally

delirious feigned tizzy if not even more his Secretary General- Palace Clown Act - of all

time as trusted cronies and swept off from under their feet and through the back

door…

The word Concomitant more than perfecta, all but allowing himself, to be reduced to

just a Titular Manipulator of the supposedly remaining remnant of the ‘Real Ruling’

Oligarchy of the All Nefas Congregated Party, historically continuously elected

through the filthy Westminster ploy of all time, to run the Motherland by apron-

strings, but sure as my name is, soon to die and only thereafter get resurrected as

the ‘REAL THING’, after suffering a massive loss in Real Time votes ,in its present form.

As re-played out , in the old legendary prank of two thieves equitably sharing loot in a

grave yard at mid-night ,while some person takes advantage of the darkest but

salubriously still mid- night, stealing away to go visit a grave of a loved one ,probably

even for some esoteric mumbo-jumbo, like the negro stole away to Jesus,the

superman of freedom…While coming closer to his destiny of a planned meditation

quietude, out there in the grimly dark thick night ,hoping to glue up every thing alive

and apparition together into his bosom , he begins to hear two voices and one quite

pitched in sharing a count of what could be of the dead bodies, of souls including that

of the quick of the just slaughtered - ‘’One for you and one for me…’’

The lone visitor then silently retreated and dove back then ran for his dear life, lest he

ensnares himself within the batch of the shared dead or being in that very instance

slaughtered …

So surely may a lone honourable voter glibly telling the world their vote is a secret

would indeed do better running for dear life ,from the abode of the already dead

voters where shared perhaps mostly in the order of Black and White ,with apartheid

having clung for dear life ,even in the so-called newly found franchise…

So somebody being told this story f the ghouls just burst out at its victim: ‘’Ag you just

escaped Jan because you are coloured, not Black not White, so eie sake and you were

not being shared here, man this one apartheid dice game was strictly about sorting

the Black from the White…

As then surely meanwhile ,a storm is going to rise and to rattle our foundations ,

giving us a first and surprisingly a conduit - salvo to a catharsis close to our debriefing

long postponed - after which not so long a period, we will then recover to be Born

Again even if by sheer default…

Even if it takes right now assembling a CODESA TWO just around whether former

Head Honcho of this Plantation can be number One for his Party or not, on the ballot

box an muddied further by the Chief Justice of the Apex Court is finally charged for

contempt of his own ,one time celebrated Commission.

And I drift, slightly - after ruminating more strenuously around deeper savant depths,

of - Mangaliso Sobukwe,Thembisile Hani and Bantu Biko…

For starters lets visit the Sharpeville jostle-commemoration 2024 of the highest order

and watershed ever yet concealed ,on the 21st March and watch the Gods Reactions

,kicking off right there against the horniest General Erections ahead ever, in the

His/Herstory of this Plantation …

And funny enough the core conundrum of it all, is when both the Skelm and the

wannabe Sanative ,each win some of the spoils and a slam-dunk win is assured for a

united resurrected putsch, now with a wannabe firmer grip on the levers, against the

purported Economic Cannibals.

In this hotchpotch of the purposefully spruced up out of gleam Satans , by all

mechanism of the Mighty Planners’ Master Plan ultimately outed to be openly cheek

by jowl with the wannabe glorious Saints after hoped for chunks of win …And the

chorus shout being:

“ This is the come back of the Movement Of Our Fathers Time,” without the well paid

up Boer Chief Snitch of all time, we had found ourself carrying for too long…’

Less Uvalo casts of some doubt ‘ If dat be so, Cuz it still in ma perhaps dimly lit

heart, threatens a likely anodder’ Satan’s Amerikano Massacre Chapter Two, or

anadder New Orleans 1811,Black Rebellion slaughter of a hundred Black Freedom

Fighters,yet still makin a big splash on de Freedom scene , I am neber deless still gettin

masef some bullet proof vest at all cost Cuz…

Teamswallows laughing lazily: ‘Oh ,do you mean the Marikana Massacre number two

Cuz,well the Big Honcho seems no more in the fiery mood enough to again think up

another bizarre concomitant bloody twak…’

Less Uvalo further more sceptic, ‘ Do ye tink dat dere is no risk of even his heart

changing to White nuf, dat he can’t resurrect a real Ole Sharpeville 1960,real McCoy

Imperial en Capitalist temper ,gainst de annoyin niggers forever askin fer bread

when dere is plenty cake ?’

Teamswallows wryly fending it all off, ‘Naai,naai Cuz,he is presently too busy playing

house with a chocolate Tsonga Barbie Doll, naming it Takalane and only his devil

knows what else and effeminate enough to charm our most gullible…

Go get dressed up fittingly ,but no gas mask, for a possible tear gas-canister- I give you

my S.A. Plantation promise- but surely a storm literally or actual will be beginning to

blow…The ancestors whispered to me a few nights ago…Another waft of the Winds of

Change, as prophesied by one Harold McMillan Prime Minister of Britain in 1960 in

the Apartheid S.A. Parliament and a few days before the Sharpeville

Shootings…’