Let's get back to basics

When have things become so complicated? I must have fallen asleep once and the world was a totally different place when I woke up. Whatever happened to basic, down-to-earth life?

I must have missed the Memo. I mean, you can’t listen to good old South African bubblegum music anymore, and also can’t be seen drinking guava juice without people looking at you with raised eyebrows. It’s like seeing someone riding a donkey down the city’s main street!

In fact, guava juice is apparently as ancient as the sun and as medieval as chewing gum with your mouth open. Eish, I am even afraid these days to admit that guava juice is my favourite drink.

So, whenever I come into a shop, I would fill my trolley up with sparkling mineral water, ice-tea and all other fancy drinks - just to give off the image that I too can fly with the big names.

If I am in a group and someone mentions that still mineral water is better than sparkling mineral water, I simply nod and smile. Deep down I would be burning with a lot of questions. For instance, why the hell do people buy still mineral water anyway?

Come to think of it, doesn't 'normal' tap water have minerals too? Or is it metals? Eish, I am confused; what the hell is Hydrogen and Oxygen which make up hydrogen dioxide (H2O)? Guess we will never know.

It is apparently also illegal and to speak English with a Namibian accent. That is disrespect for the Queen's lingua, I am told. We are all encouraged to speak like Mr. Bean or that lady from the British sitcom series 'Keeping up Appearances'.

Eish, these things are tough for us Hereros! Ask me what is the country to the east of Botswana and I would be mumbling my way to the dictionary! Trust me, there is no way I could say Zimbabwe without sounding like &Zimbambwe&! Also, we cannot - for some reason - say Debtors ledger. Any attempt at saying it out loud is equal to profanity.

Ndamona, my lovely neighbour always ask for the 'bloom' and I would be looking at the flowers, not knowing that she wants to sweep her floors and has no interest in botany. If she says she 'roves' red roses, I am forced to figure out that what she means is 'love'.

Dantago, our social league football coach - who by the way thinks all the celebrated English Premier League coaches are unqualified for the job - has trouble pronouncing 'Shoprite'. I never quiet paid attention to it, until he started boasting that he has a kamboroto at 'Soplite'. I thought it was some new, fly-by-night business or some sort of briefcase establishment.

Once from the hood, always from the hood - one just can’t get rid of the hood inside of us that easily. Have you ever come across a group of men at a communal water point? This is the only place where we can exaggerate about our performances - in every aspects of life - and overrate ourselves in relation to our peers.

For instance, if a person challenges you and tell you his horse is bigger and faster than yours, you simply tell him that you are done riding horses - you now own light aircrafts! But when it comes to women, some of us would remain quiet and give 'Big Bazooka' - our trusted ring leader - the chance to shine. Who would want to disagree with someone who can fit an entire coke can in his mouth?

Oh yeah, the man can go on for hours boasting about how much of a player he is. If you dare comment, he unleashes his fury on you so much that you wished you had remained quiet. Well, I don't blame him - people like 'Big Bazooka' only thrive on trivia. Ja, there is no sense of healthy competition where they are concerned.

I guess some of us will forever cherish our roots; our genesis. After all, we wouldn't be who we are today if not for the hood. I would not be inking all these life experiences had I not been raised in the hood.

So next time someone tells you that you need to endear yourself to others, ask him how his last slave died!

Until then...

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