NAMIBIA DECLASSIFIES THEIR PLANS OF SENDING ASTRONAUTS TO MARS IN 2021!

The year 2020 was such a pain in the ass, for so many people, if not all of us. Nothing could possibly be bigger news than the fact that a man and a Bat sent the whole earth into a frenzy. While the whole world crumbled like wet cookies, the world’s 1% raked in dollars like backyard leaves in autumn. The likes of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos with their two-horse race to who the richest man on the planet was, the legendary Mike Tyson returning to the ring in what is dubbed the greatest sporting moment in 2020, a mysterious superhero called Pelnandes saving Manchester United, the list goes on – the point is, there’s been so much that happened in 2020 that no one, and I mean this in lateral terms, no one figured out that Namibia as minions as we are in the world of science and tech, we were working day and night to send a man to MARS! 

ONE OF THE NAMIBIAN ASTRONAUTS DURING A PREVIOUS EXPEDITION TO THE MOON

Yes, you read right, Namibia is becoming the latest inductee into the space or lunar race, and we are sending a man to the distant planet, Mars. Needless to say, we are doing it before Space X and Elon Musk. Most of these countries even source technology to make these things happen, the US sourced a whole human being from South Africa, in Elon Musk. We are doing it all on our own. It’s more like the whole world is buying milk from Spar, meanwhile we have our own cow and we just go to the kraal and suck its cow titties.

While Elon Musk is working on his Starship’s landing and flight maneuvers, we have already popped the champagne and shouted ‘CHECKMATE’ as our very own space craft , the all awesome Nandjila Space Exploration and Transportation Craft (Nandjila SETC) has already proven to be capable of ticking off all boxes, passing all the required tests. Before you ask, any videos of this spacecraft doing the test flights is actually classified because there’s been instances in the past where supposedly superpowers like the US, China and Russia have stolen African technology and made it their own, then sold it back to Africa. This is one trick we will not fall for this time, like the millennials like to say, we are woke now. Below is a series of images taken from a distance because we are well aware of technology spies and drones disguised as birds trying to steal our ideas. 

Have you seen how thy made that trip to Okaku and came up with Harry Potter? They even saw our friends flying on brooms and then created the overboard, how sway! The screw-pump was first used in Africa. Most of the medication is derived from medical practices in Africa. They came here and introduced their version of god to us, ask yourself, didn’t we have any idea of higher power back then? Wake up people, we need to trace our roots. Anyways, this is one thing where they thought they were ahead but then BOOM, we are blasting off first ya’ll!

NANDJILA SETC8 ON THE LAUNCH PAD (USED FOR PERSONELL)

 

NANDJILA SETC7, USED FOR CARGO LIKE SPEAKERS AND STAGE EQUIPMENT

Namibia currently have seven (7) SETCs already on their launch pads, just waiting for all the astronauts to finish their inductions so we can blast them off into space and watch them disappear beyond the clouds, like a fart in the wind. Leading the team of Namibia’s space inductees is Astronaut Willy-Dockyo Lawdlevel (Pictured below) who we had a chance to chat to, just before his morning routine which includes blasting Amapiano music and making sure that his premier league fantasy team is sorted out… in his own words and I quote, “The good thing with this whole space issue is that there won’t be interference once we are far far away from the earth, so the music will sound as pure as ever.” 

ASTRONAUT WILY-DOCKYO LAWDLEVEL ON HIS RETURN FROM TEACHING THE NASA TRAINEES.

You are probably wondering like what in the mother of science does music have to do with this? Well, many countries are planning to take science and tech to space, to colonize distant planets and create habitats there, but not a single soul is concerned with space entertainment, and that’s when Namibia joins the conversation like the US when you discover oil in your backyard. See, we are the black sheep of space exploration, the team trying to deviate from the all-boring norm of proving black holes and a feathers falling at the same rate as a sledgehammer in a vacuum. We want to take entertainment to space. We are that kid in class who as the others sing the alphabet, he twerks to the rhythm, we are the X-factor of space travel! Can you imagine things going wrong in space and there’s no music to play while you fix the problems? That’d be one hell of a torturous space vacation now won’t it?

Namibia’s plan to send a team to Mars is child’s play thought compared to the bigger picture. The astronauts going to Mars are simply going to set up a plant that will supply energy to whoever decides to settle on mars. Where are we going to get the energy from? Well, let me introduce you to our galactic, megalithion, mother of all plans, harvesting plasma from the Sun. Yes, we are literally going to send a craft to the sun, harvest plasma and all the energy infested matter, to take to Mars and bring solar energy closer to the Martians. If the rest of the world’s plans are the avengers, our plan is Thanos!

We are already 80% done with the commissioning of the craft that we will use, which will be remotely operated from the capital city, Windhoek. The idea of going to the sun is ridiculed by many, saying it can’t be done and all that… well, some of these so-called scientists are apparently so smart that they know that going to the sun is a far-fetched idea. But they voted Trump, what a conglomerate of irony? We will go to Mars, And then the Sun, and after that, we will conquer the Andromeda Galaxy, send someone to Sirius, pull Pluto into an orbit just beyond our moon, and then create a whole new planet from space dust and call it Home.

We have reasons to celebrate and walk flamboyantly out there, knowing that while Trump is getting impeached TWICE, while Elon Musk is seating in talks with journalists and crash-landing his crafts, we are a few weeks from the Martian flight!

CHRONICLES OF THE DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENT

AND NOW I’M BACK, LIKE I NEVER LEFT!!! Okay these aren’t my words, credit to Macklemore.

I have been gone for so long that my blog picked up more dust than the kalkrand-Hoachanas road in Southern Namibia. Or Arsenal’s trophy cabinet. I got so many reasons as to why that happened but I do not want to be the guy who played the excuse card. Trust me, I missed my blog too. I’ve been gone and at some point, I missed myself too. A lot happened during the last hundreds of days since I last posted but what everyone is talking about, the Corona virus, jeez. It hit us like that bitch slap you didn’t see coming, from the kid you always bullied and now he’s out to get your ass. I mean seriously, a dude apparently ate a freaking Bat and now you can get arrested from leaving your place, there was more toilet paper bought in the last three months that the amount of people in the whole world. On a brighter side though, there’s been new amazing measures put in place. For instance, we don’t have people standing right behind us like they want to whisper the secrets of the illuminati in our ears. I can’t believe we didn’t respect a fact we can all agree on that it is not okay to breathe down my neck in a supermarket. My sincere condolences to everyone who lost a loved one due to the Corona virus.

Okay back to my last couple of days that I want to share with you. So I’ve been spending my days within my dungeon, binge watching anything and everything on Netflix, doing my work when I have gathered enough courage, eating like a mole and sleeping on the couch because my bed has mysteriously become a little colder than usual. There I was, being a lazy chap and occasionally checking for new Tik-Tok videos. Don’t judge me, at least I did not download a dating app, I mean God knows what you will do with the people you are chatting to in this lockdown, do you really miss or like them or are you just bored? You attention hoe you, sies. Someone said relationships are breathing through the wound, I could not agree more. I mean it’s one thing to be in a long distance relationship and not see your person but to have the government tell you that you cannot even attempt to see them or you will be locked up is another. What happened to you cupid victims who vowed to do anything for your loved ones? This is your chance, go out there and bash your way through the road blocks, jump over the barricades like Super Mario. I literally cringed when I read my texts from a couple of months ago, “I’ll do anything for you.” Now I’m here being a prisoner of my own four walls, making a thousand mini trips between the toilet and the kitchen, what a time to be alive.

So on a normal day I started to feel a little weird. You know that feeling you get when you are about to open your University’s portal to see your results? Or your person is typing for seven minutes after they said “We need to talk.”? Yeah, that kind of feeling. My head spinned, my tummy turned, my eyes felt heavy. I ignored the feeling for a few hours but it escalated to a subtle thump, more like the sound you made as you walked through the alleyways of your place, the last time you woke up at 03h45 to go eat the dinner leftovers, shame on you. Me, being a strong independent black young man sat there like, “ah, what’s the worst that could happen? My people survived 400 plus years of slavery and my generation survived a Pineapple on pizza era, what’s a small headache? You gotta give me something big.” But apparently I was never wrong, my head started to sound like hood Hip Hop from the 90s and my veins popped out like the Nile river as seen from the International Space Station.

I scrambled to get myself together while I searched for contacts to the nearest Doctor. I googled my symptom and let’s just say, never ever google your symptoms. I made a few calls and rushed out of my dungeon and headed off to the doctor. I do agree that it was a bad idea to drive myself there. I arrived and the doctor welcomed me. Now, let’s pause, why on earth would you welcome someone at the hospital? I never get that, I mean come on I don’t even wanna be there in the first place, I don’t wanna feel like it’s a normal place to come to at past midnight hours, and why are hospitals always so cold? I dragged my ass in there anyways, I mean I had to, walked past the beautiful doctor who wore her coat and the heart listener which I recently learned that it’s actually a Stethoscope. I should mention that humanity threw away a golden chance to call something a Heart Audience. 

I sat down and scanned the place. My head spinned more than rims on a vintage Chevy in a Snoop Dogg music video from the 90s, my eyes felt like Jennifer Aniston, God took his time on her.  So I was called into the doctor room and the doctor did doctor things, she asked me a thousand questions and wrote in some book in front of her, she ordered me to take my shirt off so she does doctor things on my chest. I held my breath so as not to expose my one pack, wanted my abs to pop out but apparently I was just going to suffocate, holding your breath to not look fat is a very very bad idea, don’t do it. I need to start taking my fitness more serious than how black mothers act when they are summoned to school to come listen to your naughty misbehaving ass. I was told to put my shirt back on and I was relieved because that place was cold, I swear doctors are doing that thing on purpose.

The doctor happened to be some sort of student doctor, after she took the medical history, listened to my heart and did all other doctor things, she called in the master doctor. It looks like after you face the junior doctors, you gotta face off with the master doctor. Well, the master doctor walked in. The master doctor or whatever they call them was an old timid lady with glasses thicker than a Buffalo from the Serengeti national park. Her heart audience had a small flower sticker on it, I found it so cute. She gave me one look, you know how experienced doctors just give you one look and they already know what you need? That’s what happened to me. She said, “He needs a pinch.” And she walked out. I was like, “A What? What on earth is a pinch??”

If there is one thing that I hate more than restaurant menus with no photos, it’s definitely the code language used by doctors. You never know what these people are talking about, you’ll go there to have a small wound on your finger to be treated, and you will be there thinking you are getting the wound dressed up in a few minutes and you hear something like, “Line up the curtains.” Before you know it, you are walking out without your whole forearm. My eyes literally teared up at the thought of what “a pinch” could be.

I thought of my whole life, I lived all my life trying to be a law abiding citizen, being an advocate of aliens, a wine ambassador and a self-proclaimed tripled A-rated Chef and my life had to come to a point where I was faced with the fate of “Apinch”? I thought I was gonna meet the coffin carrying dudes.

She told me to put my shirt back on, and I did. What transpired in the next couple of minutes was a bittersweet feeling, I realized that a pinch was not going to have me walking out of the hospital without my limb or my kidney, it was an injection. What a fucking piece of beautiful painful news. I love to stay alive, but I hate needles with all my nerves. I will admit that my fear of needles and injections sky rockets higher than the edge of the universe. My whole body went numb, I could feel my veins hide between my muscles, my heart sank to the bottom of my thorax cavity and my forehead perspired, an ironic feeling given that my mouth was dryer than the Namib Desert. Why the hell do I have to get a pinch? And I think doctors know that I fear needles because each one always use a new term that I didn’t hear of before. My last encounter, the doctor told the nurse that I apparently needed a shot, okay that was predictable but a pinch? Wow. So I gave the junior doctor a look. You know the look? I bet you do, she didn’t even seem to notice, she pulled out a tray with some syringes and at that moment, I could hear my ancestors shout, “Iyaaaaaaaaa!!!!”  She prepared the syringe, more like a sniper assembling and mounting her gun up, so she can take the enemy out, send him into oblivion.

I rolled my sleeve up but she said, “No, please pull your pants down.” Time literally froze. I was shocked, pants down? Wow, you can’t inject me through my pocket or something? I thought of all the times that I could have boosted my immune system with herbalife products, always thought those herbalife people were harassing me. I thought of telling her, “Let’s not go that route, I will drink enough juice for vitamin C.” but my courage could not let me. I was sold, defeated, dropped into the deep like I’m hot. You are probably thinking that oh this dude hates needles this much? Well, there was something else. See, after I bath, I usually don’t apply lotion on my butt, back or legs especially if I’m wearing long pants, and this was one of those cases where I hadn’t applied lotion on my butt. So, I knew that my ass was all ashy and crackled like that time it didn’t rain for 2 years in Namibia. My skin was so dry you could pour water on it and it would disappear just to moisten the skin. I reluctantly unbuckled my belt and rolled that zip down, I turned around and I swear I shed a nigga tear thinking of what the poor junior doctor was about to see, so early in her career, shame. I dropped those jeans down like a skrr skrr nigga dropping a mix tape mumbling like a feeding Hippo,  and I heard her say “Damn.”, the small room filled with a bit of dust and I feared for her life, I knew we both needed doctors at that moment because there was no way in hell she was going to survive seeing such an ashy butt like that. She let out a cough, I mean who wouldn’t? After all that dust engulfing the place like you are looking at a cement factory. She gathered her courage, I think, and went on to inject my nigga butt. I clenched my jaws as “the pinch” gave me a taste of its own medicine.

Guys, I know how we always tend to disagree on so many things because opinions, differences and all that, but I will ask of you this one favor, let’s agree on one thing. You can pour milk in the bowl before the cereal, you can add pineapple on Pizza, you can talk bad about avocado, you can even say Drake is better than Tupac, it will all be forgiven one way or the other, we will probably agree to disagree. What you will not do is turn up at the hospital with an ashy ass cause you don’t wanna hear “crklcrklcrkl” as the doctor rubs your butt cheek to deliver that pinch. It hurts your ears and her eyesight, you are bad for humanity! You should be locked up. You need to pay dust tax!! I hope she’s fine, that she is recovering from what she just saw.

Anyways, I woke up a few hours later and I felt so high, not to sound cliché but whatever they gave me was one hell of a shot, and rightfully so, I woke up soaring with the eagles, enjoying a bird view of the city.

I am recovering well, thanks to everyone who wished me a speedy recovery. And once again, BLUE SHORT PANTS IS BACK MF!!!!

Catch me if you can!

Allow me, to apologize for the long extended holiday off the blog, mans was busy but he decided to tell ya'll one of his most sentimental stories and that's what's important.

I missed ya'll too, it's been a while... I mean, Mugabe had since then been taken out of the chair he sat for so long, Zuma surprisingly got dethroned too from the iron throne, Arsene Wenger out of all possible managers to leave their teams, he is leaving at the end of the season!! To be honest the only person who seem to stay longer than we all expected is Donald Trump. I mean, that mas said all the wrong things a president could say and stay in office or not have nukes flying all up in Washington DC, Trump has been the most un-presidential president and believe it or not, he is still in office. The only good thing Trump did when he went in that office was prove to us how much he shouldn't have become a president. Enough politics.

Now this is one of those stories that I never thought I'd live to tell... or at least not from behind bars, literally. See, I thought I'd either be dead, in heaven sipping on fine juice cause I was a minor back then, or in hell, trying to lick my wounds with my flaming tongue looking like a sad marshmallow being grilled on Lucifer fires. It never occurred to me that I could outrun a whole mob trying to catch my silly ass. 

See, I had Pigeons when I was about 12/13 years. I looked at myself as a future bird farmer, doing bird things like really being a bird whisperer, cross breeding chickens with ducks to make something like a Kiwi bird. I had major dreams, and I was pretty much determined to achieve them... until one of my pigeons went missing. Just like that, I wake up and poof, it is gone. My favorite then, a grey male with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot. i was not going to get hurt if he was not the Pigeon-men of the house, he was the one making the other pigeons make smaller pigeons, if you know I mean, even if this one was practicing polygamy and stuff, he was still helping me achieve my bird farming purpose, to expand. He was literally living in the same place with his wife and his side pigeon.

I was sad, I was devastated, my farming dream was crushing right before my eyes. The female pigeons were looking at me with teary eyes, looking for answers in their pigeon voices but I did not know what to to tell them. I was heartbroken, why did it have to be my Grey male with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot?? But I was not going to stay there and beat myself up, I needed to find him. So I decided to casually visit all y friends who also had pigeons, none of them had him. Weekend past, we back to school. Now, the school's grade 9 life sciences required students to farm with animals and our school had Pigeons. I had passed by that place a lot of times and I swear I have never seen a grey male with a lazy eye in that place, never. So that day, I creeped up closer. I was nervous, heart beating and skin self moisturizing with sweat... I looked at each one of them close from outside the fence and BOOM, there was a grey male with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot. I know my eyes could have been playing tricks on me but... grey like mine? lazy eye like mine? CRIPPLED PIGEON FOOT LIKE MIIINNNEEE???? Fam I know pigeons can look alike but that one, that was my pigeon and I was not going to believe otherwise.

So I went to class, pulled my best friend out and told him that we are breaking out my pigeon. He was like dude are you crazy? The school has a security guard and there's afternoon students later. I calmed him down.

Him: How are you going to break in and not get noticed?

Me: *silence* We will not break in. 

Him: Exactly, damn. You wanna put yourself in trouble. 

Me: I mean we will not break in but we are not going home without my pigeon today. 

Him: How do you plan to do that?

Me: We will be the ones to feed them today after school.

Fam, we were busy at work planning how to break out my grey pigeon with a lazy eye and a crippled foot.

Now, at that moment, I felt like the real captain Jacksparrow, I went up to the teachers holding the food and told him I need a couple of bags cause I will feed them pigeons after class. So we stay long after school and when it was quiet, we went in, we fed them and my friend quickly caught my grey pigeon with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot. We got out, I locked up and we decided to head for the gate... half way there, now mind you we didn't have anywhere to put this pigeon and my friend was walking behind me, I didn't know he was holding the pigeon in his hands, like dude why you holding something we just "stole" in your hands??? Out of nowhere, some silly ass kid spotted the pigeon in my friend's hands and shouted 'THEY ARE STEAALLING THE PIGGEEEOOONNNSSSS CATCH THEEEEEMMM" it was almost like we were now in the spotlight 😞😞😞

Big mistake, not from me, ha a. from my friend and also from the kid who just sounded the alarm, I was always a step ahead, no lie. So I turned, told him to hand me the pigeon and we run, when he was handing it over, thing just flew away. Damn, now everyone has seen the pigeon flying away from MY hands so everyone was probably out to catch me. I was not going to have it, so we bolted. I ran so fast that I don't even know how I skipped past everyone trying to catch me, I wore rather heavy shoes that would not allow anyone to sprint but I guess the adrenaline just really fired up in my system and I went from a Sloth to a Rabbit real quick. Fam, I believe I was running faster than Bolt ever did...

I could hear my friend shouting from the back, "wait for me bruh" Oh nah nigga this was not part of our agreement!! As a matter of facts, that energy used to shout could have taken him 3 steps forward. There was no time to shout and cry, we needed to run and homeboy seemed to have missed the memo.

I ran so fast that I did not even look behind to see exactly how many people were after me. I remember that my friend was caught, but me, nah fam I was doing a Mo Farah for days, I was skipping those short bushes like a Deer, ignoring the pain in my legs, I was not slowing down. I reached home in a matter of minutes, sweating and panting like a dog. Looking so traumatized, not cause I almost got caught but cause not even I could believe I could run that fast. So there i was, in the "safety" of my mother's vicinity, just to hear voices after a couple of minutes and IT'S 3 WOMEN FROM THE SCHOOL'S OPEN MARKET PLACE!!! I knew then it was going to be a long day, so what do i do? What a man's got to do fam, I ran out of the house as fast as I could, I headed for a lake close to our house and my plan was, if they come, I'll swim... I mean what would 50 year old's do, fish me out like a seal? No ways. I watched them go in the house and leave after some minutes. When I got back, I could tell that mum was seething to whip the black out of me, you know black mother's will whip your ass so bad you'll want some your friends to come get that whipping also so they believe you when you say your mum has legendary whipping technique? So I broke silence first and explained to her, she listened but did not side with me. That was fine with me, as long as she was not going to swing that belt on my little tired self, then we good. 

Fast forward, it was Tuesday morning and we had to go back to school. I get there and see the same 3 women standing there with the teachers at our morning devotions, like fam why you gotta be so hooked up in catching us, they aren't even your pigeons meme why are you so concerned?? But they were just being black responsible mothers you know. Mum told me that if it's really my Pigeon, i must just go explain but if it's not, she will cash me ouussiiiddeee. Now, I was not going to be whipped, never. i was also not going to just give up my pigeon like that, I knew that was my pigeon! So because I'm a bad b*tch, I went to the office of the dude we got grains from the previous day, told him what happened and while I'm talking, the three Pigeon Police Women came there too, one of them pointed at me like "There he is!!!", I was clam like, ladies, I already explained to the teacher here what happened, and HE said, we will go to that place and if that pigeon went back and is mine, I am taking it with home, today. You know, I had the support of the teacher, even when he was mad that I didn't tell him "my" pigeon was there.

So we go, all gathered there like civilized people, almost like 3 of them didn't try to catch me the day before and like I didn't just break Usain Bolt's records trying to save my ass. I told them, "My pigeon is male, grey with a lazy eye and a clubfoot" So we all look inside like yeah where is he where is he, damn they couldn't wait to catch me out so they get me whipped for lying. So I calmly told them, "he must be with the ones outside, cause he flew away remember?" So the teacher called for some grains, released all of them and fed them outside, and THERE HE WAS, THE MAJESTIC GREY MALE WITH A LAZY EYE AND A CLUBFOOT!!

The 3 women, they just stood there like the three blind mice. Not even apologizing to the boy for think he is lying af. The Pigeons were guided back to their enclosure and I was told to get my grey pigeon with a lazy eye after school. Meanwhile, my best friend mboli received some ass whooping the previous day, all in the name of helping me rescue my pigeon, if that's not what friends are for then at least I still discovered then that i was a potential 100m sprinter, marathon champion, I had the steps of Bryan Habana and my pigeon farming dream was alive. 

Even if that dream died months later when I went home and I was told my pigeons died. I still think someone ate them up. 

Folks, if you lose something, just follow the channels to look for and get it back, don't be like young Stef, some ya'll can't even run, you'll be caught and your ass whooped. 

To whom, if not to you?

It's been long, it's been weeks.

Nights have been cold, and mornings, blue.

I decided to write a piece,

To whom, if not to you? 

It still feels new...

Calm, like a river, yet so loud like a storm.

It was my thoughts alone.

My dreams, my hopes.

Then you happened. 

Your warm smile...

The cold crisp feeling of the first kiss.

We had walked... so many miles.

A journey so much worth the bliss.

Felt like the end. 

The start of a new reality.

It still feels new...

The beginning of many beautiful stories.

It was.

It will always be.

HOW I GOT DUMPED AFTER 1 DAY.

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!!!! 

NOW YOU MADE YOURSELF ANOTHER FULL GLASS GIRL WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!!! 

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.

YEAH I AM ANGRY DO YOU KNOW THE KIND OF BEATING I WILL RECEIVE CAUSE I SERVED SOME GIRL OROS THAT WAS MEANT FOR KIDS?????? YOU JUST RUINED MY WHOLE LIFE!!!!! 

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. :) 

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!! 

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.