Wednesday, 23 August 2017


Let me tell ya'll a story on how I “cyber dated” someone and she broke up with the day we met.

So I’m a 16 year old nerd, battered by puberty and horny like a little bull living in isolation.
I only have a sim card but I use it in mum’s phone to hit up girls, I don’t even know how I got numbers smh.

I was such a charming little brat, using words like “on contrary”, smooth talking a girl I have never seen in my life. 

She was feeling the homie, often texting like, “I am bored, tel me sunthin nyc nee"?” That shit was major back then.

I legit asked this girl out and she said “I will think about it” I knew I took that shot and damn sure hit the target clean. 

Must’ve been words like “actually”  and "flabbergasted", instead of just being a normal person and using the word surprised. I was slick, and puberty had my hormones blinding my focus. I was feeling like hell yeah I'm a young adult... 

Three/four days later she hits me up with “good morning my sweety love”

Fam, "Sweety love", Jackpot.

I’m like, “good morning my tika masala’, okay jokes, I didn’t say exactly that, but damn I was being romantically careful with the words.

I flirted my way into a relationship and all I knew was her  nickname and her cellphone number, ancestors probably whispered ‘men are trash, look at this one losing to puberty’ 

Fast forward, the day came when we had to meet, its school holidays and she’s home too.
I woke up very early that day, gotta meet the bae. I was in tip top shape and form!! 

But before I left the house, first things first, I had to quickly take a bath, those ones where you only concentrate on the visible parts like the face, arm and legs. 

So then I went to meet her at Game shopping centre, called her, saw this girl answering the phone but I was still like, “are you the one wearing a white top”?

She looked so beautiful damn yes girl gimme that Omungwelume smile. 

“look the side of the service”, she did, saw me and stood up. SHE WAS SOOO TALL
I was like damn no girl wait a minute what????

I swear I could wear mum’s heels she’d still be taller than me. I was so mad, sweating and confused, like what do I do now. She already suffered that rough ride from Omungwelume to Oshakati, it was that time when that road was still gravel. 

But, "MAN IS MAN BABY!!!! Its all gonna be alright", so I told myself. I knew that our match was not made in heaven per say but it was made juuuust a little outside, but that was okay. We went home, she was holding my hand and because I'm way shorter than her and chubby, it looked like Peter Crouch was in town pulling a suitcase. 

We got home and before I even sat down, i reactivated my romanticness again,,

"You want water or... Oros?" 

Not even 2 seconds elapsed after I asked her, she said, "Oros... I want Oros"
I was disappointed, I was hoping she will say water because the Oros was almost finished and the one that was left was only for family.

But anyways, I served her one glass. the ratio of water to Oros was perfect, that's my talent, blending Oros. Also, i had to make a good first impression, knowing how to make the best Oros increases your chances of getting a partner with 45%. 

I quickly left her to go to the bathroom, I did not want to pee or do the number 2, I just wanted to avoid those award moments, I had to go and think of the perfect thing to talk about with her. 

And this is when things really went south, like, things really went terribly wrong. When I came back from the bathroom, this girl had the Oros glass in her hand and... it looked just waaaaayyyy too bright than when I left it, and this glass was almost full to the brim. That's when I noticed, that THIS GIRL MADE HERSELF ANOTHER GLASS OF OROS!!!!

I did you a favor, risked my life to make you a tasty glass of Oros when even us who are from the house, we only add a little Oros to tap water, JUST TO ADD SOME COLOR!!!! 


I was so mad I could not even concentrate anymore, then she hit me with "Now you are angry nee for Oorosa?" In a deep kwanyama accent.


I was like, GET UP!!! 
Get up, let me escort you to the buses so you go home, i can't do this. You came here for the first time and the first thing you do is DRINK ALL OUR OROS!!! 

So I escorted her, she took the bus. i went home to google excuses that i needed to have before anyone asked me what happened to the last Oros. 

That seeing, she broke up with me, and I have never been so relieved, because there's no way we can date if you get too comfortable on your first date that you actually make yourself a cup of Oros. 

A big shout out to my buddy from Omungwelume, Shawty B, my brother from another mother, the deep kwanyama Jackson Mandume, I've got mad love for ya'll buddies who keep up with Blue Short Pants, big ups.

By the way, now I offer my girl wine. :) 

Wednesday, 12 July 2017

How my dreads almost ruined my life.

Hi guys, I have been gone for a very long time! But I am back, and I am alive, if I wasn't then I wouldn't be back, because, I mean... that's science right? 

Sooo let me tell ya’ll a story of how I almost became homeless.

*gets in position*

No, not living on the streets or under a bridge, no. I was at the village by then so we are talking about living in the tree tops feeding off raw eggs for birds and fruits, that stone age lifestyle with nothing but leaves for clothes and long ass hair looking like a badass nomad. That would have been very odd in a civilized community, but not as odd as the dreads that I had on my head, the ones that were solely responsible for my own mother almost kicking my silly ass self out of the only place I’ve ever called home.

See, I was an average youngster trying out every little thing that I perceived “cool” by then, little did I know that every “let me try this” was a shovel digging up enough earth to open up a little grave for me. Like every time I tried something knew, I was whispering to my guardian angel to cut me some slack and not stop me from doing stuff. My guardian angel kindly allowed me to “explore” and that folks… that was one terrible mistake. I decided to grow my hair and… *moment of silence to what the brother went through*, and that was enough for mum to decide that enough was enough!!

Growing my hair was already starting to annoy mum, but getting dreads, that was the cherry on this unwelcome cake at home, in the vicinity of an African mother’s territory, that was treason! The first day I came from town with my head looking like a !Nara plant with little dreads sticking out like germinating grass, mum gave me one look… one lookd and I knew I was in trouble, not for that moment only, for the next few days. I was in more trouble than I have ever been in my whole life, at that moment, not even making a wish over a shooting star or keeping my fingers crossed was going to save me the exposure to mum’s classified disciplinary and record straightening actions. Mind you, my guardian angel allowed me to walk into that mess so rest assured she was just going to sit back and let me go through it all.

Mum started off by asking me, “Who do you buy from?” I’m like what? What is she talking about, “drugs… who do you buy your drugs from?” the average conclusion in an African home when you get dreads is that you are definitely doing drugs. Before I even answered her that I AM NOT DOING ANY DRUGS, obviously the capital letters do not mean I was about to shout at her because shouting at your mother in an African home is bigger than going to war with American navy seals… before I answered her, she told me that I need to look for a new home. How?? This is the only place I have ever known to be home, am I supposed to go to radio stations and request any Good Samaritan willing to take in a boy with dreads or what? Imagine me on Radiowave, “hi guys this is Stef, I need a new home, I have dreads”

So while I was trying to reason with her, I called her “Mum”, because she is my mother. She replied with, “I did not give birth to a gangster or mafia member”, okay at this point I was starting to realize that if my guardian angel doesn’t step in, mum was probably even going to take away my middle name and probably even take away her looks from my face! I needed a new home, I needed a new mother! So getting dreads had me thinking that perhaps I was adopted from a family in Jamaica and my Jamaican vibes were starting to come out, I mean I was already very fast which I saw every time someone tried to whip me at home, so I could be related to Usain Bolt. Just saying.

I decided that I am not cutting my dreads just because mum isn’t comfortable with them. I don’t know what happened but what she did was looking like she just stepped up to stage 2! She told the kids to serve me food in one plate and one cup every time, that’s like being in prison or having a deadly infectious flu that is very contagious so you need to be in constant isolation from the human race. I was being isolated, if I don’t move out and get a new home and a new mother.

I was not about to break either, she wants to go to stage 2? I am going to stage 2 also, I decided to get my small sisters to “retouch” my dreads, that’s basically making them look all good and neat again. WORST MISTAKE, apparently her kids are not going to touch some dirty dreads at all. Not even if they wore gloves I assumed. I was in a chokehold guys, I was fighting a battle I wasn’t destined to win. It was written, “thou shall not win!!”, Like Liverpool’s fate with the EPL lately.

I could not even cough or sneeze without mum saying, “It’s those stupid dreads in your head.” My dreads were getting blamed for every little thing happening in the family. Kids come home from school and say that one of their classmates dropped out because she got pregnant, “it’s those things of people even getting dreads”.

My uncle who is a deacon in the Catholic Church was even called to interfere because the second conclusion of what has happened to me if not drugs was that I am possessed by demons. I knew that I was not going to win this, not at all. So before mum went to stage 3 which was probably to call the police to search my room for drugs or concealed bodies, I decided to throw in a towel and get a fresh fade. I tell you what, the day I went back home with a fresh fade, mum was all of a sudden the normal loving beauty, calling me her handsome son and all that, thinking I forgot that she had me hoping some family will come claim me or that I need to start living with the goats at the kraal.

Anyways, mum just needed to make sure her son isn’t branching off to the world of drugs (despite the connection to dreads just being a stereotype), I applaud her for the love she’s got for me and glad to say that I have no regrets, only love for every way she brought me up.

By the way, I may be needing a new family soon because I am not cutting this hair!! 

Monday, 20 March 2017

My friend didn't tell me that he's a father now. I'm angry.

So I’m all up in my WhatsApp contacts, checking out what my friends are up to, since we’ve got this awesome Snap-like feature. Everybody is posting their lunch and I’m just scrolling fast like, “oh nah I am so hungry I don’t wanna see food!!” Then I noticed something that caught my attention, someone posted two little cute feet of a newborn baby. I know they were of a newborn baby cause they are so wrinkly and small, the size of full grown thumbs. So I check the caption and this dude is the father of this baby.

Recap, this guy is my childhood friend, we grew up together, we use to fight as opponents or fight boys from other villages, so we have that childhood bond and this friendship cannot be broken unless one of us decides to put it in writing, you’ve got to officially resign from the friendship, you don’t just leave!!

So I decided to ask him, “Are you a father?” His reply really stunned me, I don’t even know why I did not just call the police because his answer was so abusive. At that point in time, I'm just praying in my heart like, "Lord, please grant me the serenity I need."

He said, "Of two, yes.” Dude you crazy? So you got yourself a girlfriend, a baby and ANOTHER BABY and I couldn’t get any update? I was so mad I decided to tell him what’s up, I told him that what he did is so bad and unfair cause now when I get my own baby, he won’t have anyone to play with cause his babies will be all grown, big ass men passed puberty and sh*t like that.

Now I need to make one baby, and quickly make another one so that my baby can have a baby of his size to play with.   You know how it feels when you are a baby and don’t have any baby of your size to play with? It’s like being in a foreign country and you can’t even ask for water!! 

I’ve made peace with it, my baby won’t need my friend’s babies to play with because I will just visit the SPCA and get a puppy for my baby to play with. Now I need to visit his baby mamma and tell those babies who I am since the parents didn’t do so.

I’ll be like, “yo listen up kids, when I was 11 years old, I kicked your daddy’s ass and he bit my back”. I don’t really know why I will be telling them that but I just feel like they need to know. By the way, be a good Dad ma nigga!! I’m really proud of who you’ve become.  And ps, I forgave you for biting my back when I kicked your ass back in the days. 

I'm really fine no though, will even see the babies soon. 

Friday, 3 February 2017

Do NOT share your secrets with these five people!

Who isn’t scared that their darkest secrets will bubble out for the whole world to feed on? Well, certainly not me, I am scared as an injured gazelle in the Serengeti! My biggest fear is that someone will betray me, someone will share my most personal secrets with some stranger out there and while you are out there thinking no one knows about you, the whole world has your life zoomed in on high definition.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not scared of people knowing WHO I am, nah… I am scared of people knowing what I don’t want to share with them, that’s invasion of personal space, think about it. BUT, we can’t blame them; people only know what we choose to tell them, right? People only know what we allow them to know. So ultimately we are our own enemies if we go around sharing even the colors of our underpants with strangers, or how we managed to sneak French fries into the fitness class and munch on them while everybody else does planks and crunches, yeah that’s messed up. So here is my list of 5 people you DO NOT at all want to share your secrets with.

5. A friend who works in a salon
Seriously, what’s wrong with these ladies? Okay I’m guessing you want to know HOW I know this. Well, my barber happens to be in the same office space with a bunch of salon ladies, so when I go get my fade so I look like I’m about to feature in Bad Boys IV, I hear what these ladies talk about. Damn, they know EVERYTHING!!! From who is bonking who in the neighborhood, to which previous customer didn’t buy her own Brazilian hair. These ladies discuss uncensored x rated matters fam. Salons should have a sign that says, “persons under the age of 18 are not allowed here dammit”, or better have earmuffs to be used in there. Salon ladies even know Victoria’s secret! So don’t you dare share anything with them at all.

4. Any aunt with a gold tooth.
I bet my aunt is reading this and thinking I’m throwing shade on her again, relax woman. So guys, I do not understand why these folks with a certain awkward gold tooth stuck up between crooked teeth always find it relevant to like just be the community paparazzi. I swear if you hear some juicy gossip going on around you, say in an elevator or in a bus or taxi on your way home, just look at the captain of this gossip, you will see some shiny gold tooth crying to be freed. Sometimes it is not even gold, it is just copper but the gossip will polish that thing as it leaves the mouth and makes it look like 18 carats gold in its finest form.

3. Anyone who starts talking like, “Please don’t tell anyone, I also just heard’
SHUT UP!!! JUST SHUT UP!!! Why are human beings so complicated?? So you are going to go ahead and tell me something you are not sure of, I guess that’s why you are not open to me sharing it with anybody else. In the first place, you just HEARD, and now you want to tell me and I should not tell anyone, why? Cause I’m like the gossip dumpsite or what? Respect my ears please don’t feed me crap that you are not ready to back up please. These people are so creepy because they will go ahead and share your secrets and tell people, “I will tell you but don’t tell anyone else”, then those people are also going to do the same thing over and over, it’s like a cycle of scared columnists trying to deliver the breaking news but no one wants to be held accountable. Stupid. Hahaha. Do not go and tell people like that cause you are exactly who shouldn’t be told secrets, man.

2. Someone with a Facebook name ending with –licious
Think about these people for a moment. Oo beautilicious noo Rare pinky-love Cuddlelicios, those people are what’s wrong with the internet! Their pages are full of the juiciest and most recent gossip ever! I even wonder why we do not have a gossip column show on our national tv yet. I left so many whatsapp groups in recent days and it is always somehow because there is some –licious person who is just out there preaching to us about things we do not need or want to hear. I remember when my friend changed her name to Candylicios and I almost called her parents to inform them that their daughter needs immediate emancipation from an alien disease that makes people stick their noses everywhere and spit our unverified information about other people.

1       1. My uncle. (He’s got a tooth gap)

Oh my word this guy will let your secrets known to whoever he meets!! Okay let’s get one thing straight, I feel like we need to understand him though, I mean this man has a tooth gap the size of space between Australia and New Zealand! WOW!! Every time he even says something bad about me, I’m just like, “Stef, you need to understand that maybe these words just escaped from his mouth using that gate between his front two teeth.

I can’t even get over the day he looked at me and said, “Hey!! Thtefanuth!! Come thay hi to your uncle!!!”, then I walked up to him with so much fear that looking straight into his tooth gap will victimize my rather fragile soul. It looks like a black hole fam. That tooth gap probably pays its own cab when my uncle goes from town back home. I swear when he was in school, his tooth gap had its own table and chair in class also. Like guy has a whole cave in his mouth.
So next time you meet my uncle and feel like you should share your secret with him, think twice because the words won’t have curfew in his mouth.

I’m off to go get me some lunch. Share this with your friends to make sure they share their secrets with the right people. 

Monday, 16 January 2017

Frank Fredericks would have been proud of me.

Flight or fight? Flight.

That was me, all the time my uncles tried to lay their hands on me. I was gloriously naughty. I think I messed up almost daily, the only times when I didn’t do something worth of getting me whipped was when I slept, which was very minimal. I was the most problematic 8 years old in the village and I grew up thinking that my name is ‘Haitii kaanaave” which translates to a rather not so kind “hey you kid’. I did the best I could do, to be the best kid ever, but I just had so much energy in me. I really could not contain it and so I resorted to just being me. Naughty and always out and about.

Mum told me I was a very handsome kid, which doesn’t add up, why would you then let your cousins and aunties whip your handsome kid? Made me feel like she only said that because I’m her son and you’ve got to constantly tell your kid that he is handsome.

I grew up in a village. Like any other boy, I had to spend most of my time herding cattle and goats and that’s like the utmost curse for a wambo kid, it is responsible for 93% of the beatings we receive growing up. In my case, it was negligence, I had a “Wat sal hulle maak?” mentality and my pace gave me reason to just let shit hit the fan cause when my uncles pull out their belts and try to whip me, I miraculously transformed into a short little Frank Fredericks, leaving them in a cloud of dust while I gallop away like a fresh and young antelope.

This one time, me and my fav cousin Waka decided we will do what many kids do; play with toy cattle made of clay soil. We sat and put our hands to work, not realizing the most rude and really petty goats running into mum’s field. Now THAT’S like a one way ticket into the killing zone, I mean when that happens, you better just pray to God and call on your ancestors to guide your soul to heaven cause boy you are in shit!!!

Of course my cousin panicked, well as of me, I’m just like “let me flex my legs cause there’s a 400m sprint today”. We quickly detour’d the goats out. Time passed and at about 17:00 when we had to take them back to the kraal, we heard our uncle calling us. I knew that something was not right. So we went to him and he asked us if we herd goats in the field, LOL, like nigga just whip us don’t go all Harvard Law School on us jeez cut us some slack yo. Well, blah blah blah, next thing I know, we are required to go pick the branches so he whips us. Yes, we needed to pick our own whips. That’s like blending your own poison to drink later, like running yourself over with a car. I picked the weakest, smallest, most fragile sprout from the nearest ka tree, I had a bigger plan. 

My cousin was up first, so my uncle went all berzerk on him and half way in, I decided to do the usual ritual. “Flight or fight? FLIIIGGGHHHTTTT” and with that, I threw the branch down and bolted off like a gazelle, running with my shirt flying behind my back like a kite, cutting through the air like a Porsche.

My cousin’s cries encouraged me to run as fast and far as possible. All I needed was a 3 seconds head start and I knew my uncle won’t catch up with me, fam I was flying like a Sparrow!!! He probably came after me but the dust I made perhaps just saved me from his wrath. I didn’t look back as I ran, I just wanted to get as far as possible. And long story short, I joined boxing classes later on. Just so I can stand there and do the ritual like, “flight or fight? Bring it on you little wrinkled uncle, let’s dance!! But yeah we never danced cause “respect”.