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. 

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. 

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”. 

My terrible dinner with a couple.

Do not go out with two people who are dating each other :(

So last night I picked up a call and my friend said "hey dude can we go out for dinner and a few drinks?" Nigga is full of jokes so I was not sure if he is serious kaa.

 

I was like, "Man why you gotta joke like this? Are you serious? Don't play like dis man, dude are you serious you know I'm hungry!!

 

 

 

he said, "dude I'm serious let's go out for drinks and food!!"

 

I'm like, "yeah sure bro no problem" but in my heart, "oh man these are the friends I need around me, look at God!"

 

 

 

So I drove my hungry self to the mall, as fast as possible, pumping Tate Buti's Mondalaye song,

 

 And ignoring all other incoming calls like: NOOOO!!! YOU CAN'T COME BETWEEN ME AND FOOD!!!

 

 

 

I got there and there was my friend, we did our thing like Pogba and Ander Herrera, gangster stuff, with a little cheeky dab. I was like, "who's this?", pointing at the little tiny yellow bone standing next to him.

'That's my girlfriend"

 

*there was a bit of silence*

 

In my heart I was like, "You guy, you brought me here to be a third wheel? So that I entertain you and your girl or what? I should start charging people for hanging with me!!!",

 

 

 

 

But because he is my friend, I was just like, "ow cool, hey there my name is Stefan, but you can call me Stef". I was trying to be really polite.

 

 

So we sat down and my goodness it was terrible for me, they kept feeding each other and cracking unfunny jokes that I had to laugh at to be polite enough. :(

 

But let me cut the long story short, the most terrible part was that the girl was super funny but the guy didn't really get the girl's jokes quick enough to laugh. I wanted to laugh but... I had to wait for the boyfriend to laugh first.

I clearly saw that the guy was not getting the jokes

 

 

 

So I waited some seconds for him to get the joke.

 

 

 

But he wasn't going to get the Joke!!!! so I had to freakin explain to him!!! Aaarrrgg

 

 

 

 

To be honest, I am never doing that to myself, ever again!!!

 

Also I am not sure if it was me explaining jokes that was a terrible thing for me or it was the "very peri" sauce I had on my chicken that was too chili, eew.

 

but if there is any friend who wants us to go for food and drinks, please let me know, I'm all about that. If you are going to bring your girl, arg I will be fine, as long as there is food, haha. Cheers.

Why I still maintain my innocence

Earlier today at the office, a piece of pork schnitzel that was wrapped in aluminum foil with a N$17:55 Pick n Pay price tag on it went missing from the common fridge. The description matched what the apparent owner's descriptions are. This is a piece of pork that I have not seen at all, I mean I haven't seen any schnitzel since August. As a matter of fact, I haven't been in that kitchen prior to speculations that there is a schnitzel piece that got mugged out of the fridge.

After rigorous speculations, which didn't involve me because I committed to finding a tooth pick to pick my clogged teeth, the evidence apparently pointed at me. This came as a very big surprise as I am a very good friend of the victim, the guy who previously owned the pork schnitzel is a very good friend of mine. We are even in the same whatsApp groups and we all start work at 08:00, that's how close of friends we are. Now to say that I, Stef took that pork is very very, VERY impolite.

I am just a little guy trying to live life, one day at a time.

In the absence of lawyers willing to represent me as I get interrogated in a whatsApp group, I wish to explain and bring forth facts, why I am innocent and not "guilty beyond reasonable doubt".


1. I am on a vegetarian diet this week.

one thing that these people failed to consider is that I am on a vegetarian diet this week. Not directly, more indirectly. You see, animals like Kudu and cattle are vegetarians, they only eat grass and veggies. Now for me, I don't want to compete with them so instead of me eating vegetables directly, I eat the animals that eat vegetables. This way, they still keep their food cause I won't eat them, nah uh. But I also get to benefit from the grass and all vegies, through the animals that eat them. Pigs only eat apples and milk, these are facts from Animal farm just in case ya'll don't believe me.


2. There was cake in the fridge (apparently)

Everyone knows that I love cake. I am like a cake addict. I probably eat more cake than the average person on their birthday. I eat more cake than a bride and groom on their wedding day. I eat cake when I am sad, when I am happy, when I am hurt, when I am in love, when I am late, when I am on diet, when I am broke, when I get money, when I am at home, at work, in my car, at the cinema, at funerals, at independence celebrations. I eat cake all the time that when I can't afford a slice of cake, I go eat fat cakes. Now to say that I could take a pork schnitzel out of a fridge and leave cake there, you must be out of your mind. You are joking.


3. I don't even love pork.

okay that's a lie, pffft. I love pork. but I DID NOT, take that one out of the fridge and throw the aluminum foil in the kaSmall bin in the office.


4. The evidence is not enough.

Apparently I am the only one who kept giggling and picking my teeth minutes after the schnitzel walked out of the fridge. But did you see me eat it? If we go to a doctor for an x-ray right now, will you see that pork in my tummy? Will you be able to stand in front of St. Paul and say that I ate the pork? Please.

5.

I can't think of more reasons. :(

let's just let it go. I seriously need to find a proper toothpick and also a glass of water, this oil is making me feel funny in my tummy.

Take all, just not my Coffee Mug!

So it is a very good Monday morning, I am in a suit and I smell like a basket of roses. The finest of them all. I've got my hair combed, this is not normal for me. My hairline is behaving and I am wearing my "hey ya'll what's good?" typa smile, I am electrified!  I am ready to take on this so called blue Monday and nothing can stop me. Everything I touch blows up like dynamite.

I made myself even more comfortable in the rotating chair, with my legs dangling half way to the floor. Haters gonna say I'm short, well I am not really short, everyone is just tall. So I pick my tasks and head off to the small cute kitchen in the office building. I smiled wide, I'm sure it was more of a really stupid grin when I saw the coffee machine. With my index finger, I pressed "ON" and holly molly the orgasmic feeling as its fans kicked in, that almost silent "bbbzzzzzz" as it carefully prepares the load of coffee beans to grind and churn the moment you press "COFFEE". Yaaayyy

So I headed back to my office which is just a few yards away from the kitchen, walking as if I am almost dancing across the hall way. My shoes making that "tap, tap" sound as I gentlemanly hop across the tiled floor. Trying hard not to slip. I arrived at my desk, searched it for my awesome coffee mug. And... it is not there. I thought, "Hmmm, perhaps I left it at the sink, let me go back to the kitchen", I often did that. So I head back to the kitchen, clicking my fingers and waving my arms, sending my suit in waves like a flag.

I got to the kitchen and screened it through my bifocal specs, there was no ways I was going to miss a thing in that small room. I saw the table cloths, I saw the glasses and cups, the stubborn spider on the wall, somehow it never dies even when we empty a doom can in that room, I swear that spider is immune to chemicals now. I searched once, twice, THRICE, FOURICE... Okay maybe fourice isn't a word. Point is, I searched for the FOURTH time and my coffee mug was nowhere to be found.

WHERE IS MY COFFEE MUG? Who would dare to take it in the first place? I made it clear the first day I got it that "YOU MAY TAKE ANYTHING, JUST NOT MY COFFEE MUG!!!!!"

My blood boiled, my face felt like ants walking on it as sweat started to form, my collars suddenly felt tighter around my neck and my lips started to tremble like I was playing a flute. I was on a 5 here, I could not afford to get to 10 but damn my coffee mug was gone. Just about three months after I got it, I never even dropped it, I never left it dirty, I never ever made it feel like it was not loved. But just like that, boom, it was no where to be found. GONE!!! But we all know the coffee mug can't grow tiny ceramic legs and walk away right?

Hol'up! Someone out there is having my coffee mug. Holding it hostage ready to use it. Probably not keeping it in a "cold and dry place" and I am here ready to chew coffee beans and gurgle hot water to make up for a missed cup of coffee? Naw man, it is not happening. I have to make the things that will even us up, possible.

I have to make sure that justice is delivered in this situation, if it means launching an operation "Find Pie's Coffee Mug", I shall do that! So first things first, I can't get coffee because someone out there cupnapped my coffee mug? Then no one at the office will have coffee. So I disconnected the coffee machine and pasted on it a note that read, "OUT OF ORDER"

I am sorry but when you take my coffee mug, you will just awaken my pettiness.

I walked back to my office with my head low, looking so broken, like a kid who just threw his last penny in the chocolate vendor machine, just to realize that the machine is switched off. I am hurt! After everything I have done to preserve that coffee mug, someone took it away from me.

I am getting a new coffee mug and this time, I am protecting it with my life. Touch it and get sniped! Pew pew, "Mayday mayday, we have a situation, the subject is seen heading for the kitchen with the absolutely fantastic coffee mug of Mr. PieMysterious, AKA Blue Short Pants, AKA Stef... get in formation!!

Much love ya'll, (Even for the Coffee Mug Thief). And My Aunt too.