Monday, April 30, 2012

An appreciator


Those of a young, fragile and ignorant mind have given it the sobriquet of “old people’s music”. Others simply regard it as monotonous. Despite the ample use of derogatory terms to describe this genre, I’ve developed a substantial amount of love and respect for this age old art form of fusing sounds to express abstract ideas. Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Abdullah Ibrahim, Jonas Gwangwa, Herbie Hancock, Hugh Masekela , Wes Montgomery   and Fela Kuti are among those who have composed and orchestrated songs that are simply beyond this world.

At an Abdullah Ibrahim concert, I was fortunate to hear the trombone, percussion, cello, saxophone, piano and trumpet converging to create a subtle and mellow tune that eased my mind. Like none other, this is a genre that provokes strange and unconventional thought. The use of an instrument to convey an ambiguous message only compels one to rid himself of that mindset that is prone to making superficial analyses and listen closely to what is being said. It’s only when one realizes that jazz goes beyond rhythm and vibe that he can be called an appreciator of jazz.   

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Lady in red

She wore a red figure hugging dress that left little to the imagination. Her hair was black, long and silky. She stood staring at her latest victim.
“It’s done”, she mumbled to herself.
The sound of the fatal gunshot still echoed. A young man, dressed in a well tailored suit, laid in a pool of blood. His vision became clouded as he Gasped, trying to catch his last breath. As the soul parted ways with the flesh, his body slowly turned cold. By then the grip he had on the black suitcase slowly weakened.
 Calm as she could be, her thoughts swiftly drifted of to the hours that led to this mans despair.
He sat at the end of the bar, running his finger on the rim of the glass and gazing at his golden brown brandy, as though he was lost somewhere in thought. Then suddenly his nose caught a pleasant floral scent that broke his chain of thought. At the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of a majestic being approaching the bar. It was a lady in red.   
He cracked a subtle smile and uttered out in his baritone voice “May I get you a drink?”
In the mellowest of all voices, she simply said “no, thank you.”
“Bartender, Can I get a glass of your finest Cabernet Sauvignon for the lady in red.” He said in spite of his failed attempt                  
“Persistent and charming” she said as she settle down beside him.
The alcohol stared flowing and so did the conversation. “From your attire, I would say that you’re a tenderpreneur of some sort.”       
“Tenderpreneur…?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I’m actually a prosecutor.”   
They had now fallen into a flirtatious state. Emotive touches indicated that their bodies spoke a language of their own. The concept of time had vanished, until the bartender with a broom in hand started clearing up giving an indication that he was closing. There and then, they decided to leave together.  
She grabbed her clutch bag and he grabbed the black suitcase that sat by his side. They were both baring broad smiles as they knew the night was young and rousing. They ambled their way, in the silence and darkness of the night, to a white Porsche parked beneath a street lamp.
Once they got closer to the car, she abruptly asked “Do you know a man called Dave Ellington?”
“Ag, I sent a man who goes by that name to jail…” He replied. “Why do you ask?”
“He is my fiancé”. Barely discernible, she slid her hand into her clutch bag pulling out a gleaming silver 9mm with her trigger finger in place. Instantaneous he knew that she was a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing, on the prowl for those responsible for her fiancés incarceration.
Transfix with shock, he felt a sudden pinch and weakness in the knees.
He fell to the ground silent and teary-eyed.
Hitherto, mans greatest weakness has been a woman. He is easily enticed by breasts, lips and hips. If only he saw beyond her seemingly innocent eyes and that cynical smile, maybe he would have known that not all is what it seems. 

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

optimism or pessimism?

We are optimistic beings, always hoping for the best but never preparing for the worst. There is no need to be a logician or pessimist to know that life doesn’t always go as planned. For most people this is a bitter pill to swallow, that’s why many live off wishful thinking.  I’m still a young man who has a lot to learn from life, one of the traits that I’ve picked up along the way is to always leave room for disappointment. That does not necessarily mean that I live life expecting something wrong to happen. 
Knowing that reality tends to burst the bubble filled with our wishes, I’ve gotten rid of that subliminal obsession with the future and have begun to take life as it comes.  Simply put, I just do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. I guess the saying “go with the flow” applies in my life. Some things can not be controlled that’s why I let the forces of destiny steer me to that unknown place that just might be paradise.  
Although I’m no philosopher, I think I should leave you with this analogy: Living life is like walking in the dark, you’ll never know where your next step leads. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s superman.

I’m fortunate to have been born after the primitive era, when it was not necessary be half naked and hunt the evening’s meal with a bow and arrow. Back then entertainment meant sitting with my eyes glued to the television, completely captivated by action packed cartoons such as Ninja turtles, Power rangers and Batman. In retrospect, watching the “steering” use his powers to catch the bad guy was not beneficial to me, but to some level it provoked thoughts that fueled my over imaginative mind. Being young and staring into thin air, imagining what I would do if I had supernatural powers was not out of the ordinary. Despite the passing of ages, you might say that I’m a retrogressive person due to the fact that I still find myself losing touch with reality and slip into a world created by my imagination. Fiction might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I find it a necessity to move from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Get rid of that knowledgeable mind by ignoring the laws of nature and science. Give voice to that inner child that you hide from the world. As ridiculous as it may seem, imagine you woke up one morning and you miraculously had supernatural powers. What kind of powers would you want to posses? Is it immortality, super strength, enhanced intuition or even invisibility? Given the fact that we are a species that is often engulfed by curiosity, you most probably will end up using your powers for some mischievous activity. In that case all I can do is quote Uncle Ben from Spiderman “With great power comes great responsibility”.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Awkward moments

I have vivid memories lodged at the back of my mind; some of these memories are of awkward moments that make me crack a smile unwillingly. Luckily these incidents remain perfectly hidden in plain view only to be seen by those who pay attention. They might seem unbelievable and unconceivable but Gods sense of humor is one which a mere mortal will never understand, but here are the synopses of my awkward moments.

I was in a queue attempting to start a friendly conversation with the lady in front of me, she didn’t reply and the first thing that came to mind was “This person is rude.” To my surprise that lady’s companion came along and they started making hand gestures which looked like sign language. When I walked away from that embarrassing scene, that seemed a bit cinematic, the only thing that I could hear was the voice in my head saying “I’m such an idiot for trying to start a conversation with a deaf person”. After that incident I wished I could just crawl underneath some rock and hide from earths judgmental eyes.

I’ve also found myself calling someone with the intent of saying something specific, but due to some psychological phenomena what I wanted to say can’t come out. So, to avoid sounding like a strange or deranged person, I improvise and come up with something else to say. Eventually when I run out of conversation topics, there’s a brief moment of silence when I frantically searching my mind for something else to say. Unexpectedly, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind only to realize seconds later that I just said a load of crap. None of the Twenty six alphabetic letters can be placed together to create that elusive word that perfectly describes how I feel after making such phone calls.

Since I’m not Cronus, the Titan god of time and the ages, there’s no point in beating myself up for something I can’t change. I’d rather look back at these moments and laugh.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Somalia



The land won’t bear anything to devour
The sky won’t shed a tear
On her long journey south in search for life
She’s accompanied by the messengers of death
She left home with nothing but memories
Cautiously walking with the scorching sun against her skin
She takes a breath as if it were her last
Anger, fear, sorrow and uncertainty fill her eyes
All she can do is beg Allah for mercy

Monday, July 25, 2011

Who am I?

To avoid sounding like a contemplative nutcase who is rambling on about a whole lot of philosophical mumbo jumbo, I’ll tell you what brought about the idea of writing this blog post. There was a very intriguing local documentary that I watched called “Who am I”. On this show there are people who come from all walks of life trying to find their true identity. Through the process of trying to answer this question, they leave there suburban surroundings and visit the areas where their forefathers once resided. It’s quite an interesting journey that explores different aspects of a person’s culture, religion and lifestyle. There was a particular episode on which an elderly woman said “We as Africans have lost our identity because deep within our subconscious mind colonialist and missionaries embedded the idea that our ways were savage and immoral.” Every time I indulged in this scintillating local documentary, I was always left in awed silence by the simple yet profound statements made. It only comes to show that a person’s identity is not only determined by the green coded booklet that’s issued out by home affairs.