ubunsumansumane

Ngenkathi ngaqala ukubhala izincwadi zesiZulu, bengingazi ukuthi uhlobo engilubhalayo lubizwa kanjani ngolukaPhunga noMageba.

Kade ngazi ngezinkondlo nangezindatshana nezindaba (phecelezi amanoveli), kodwa ikakhulukazi lezo zithanda ukubhalwa (ngesiZulu) ngezinto ezenziwa empilweni yasemhlabeni – hhayi ngezinto zomcabango (phecelezi ze-imagination). Okunye ebengazi ngakho yizinganekwane – ngakho indatshana yami yokuqala yaba yalolo hlobo.

Izinganekwane zithanda ukubizwa ngelinye igama – izinsumansumane. USolwazi Mbatha, encwadini yakhe eyisichazimazwi sesiZulu, usho ukuthi insumansumane “yindaba okunenkolo yokuthi yenzeka kudala noma-ke kungekho bufakazi obuqinile balokho” noma “yisehlakalo esingajwayelekile”. Usho futhi ukuthi inganekwane “yindaba exoxwa ngomlomo ngenhloso yokudluliselwa esizukulwaneni ngesizukulwane ixoxelwe ubumnandi nokufundisa noma ingelona iqiniso” noma “ngokungakholeki okungelona iqiniso; imbude”.  

Njengoba uhlobo lwencwadi engithanda ukubhala yilona olubizwa nge”Speculative Fiction” ngesiNgisi, lawa magama ayalufanela – ikakhulukazi ngoba izindaba zami zikhuluma ngezehlakalo ezingajwayelekile nangezinto ezingakholeki noma ezingelona iqiniso. Kodwa yimuphi umehluko phakathi kwe-Fiction ne-Speculative Fiction? I-Fiction yilolo hlobo lwendaba oluthanda ukukhuluma ngezinto ezingelona iqiniso, kodwa ezenziwa emhlabeni esiwujwayele mihla namalanga – ikakhulukazi emhlabeni wesimanje. Kodwa i-Speculative Fiction ikhuluma ngezinto ezingabe zenziwa emhlabeni ohlukile, noma emkhathini (phecelezi ‘in space’), noma esikhathini sekusasa elikude. Umhlaba engibhala ngawo uhluke kakhulu kunalona esiphila kuwo namuhla, njengoba izigameko zenziwa ezikhathini ezizayo (noma ezingeza kithi uma singabhekile).

Ngakho-ke, emva kweminyaka ngibhala ngezinto ezingelona iqiniso, sengikhetha ukukhuluma ngohlobo lwami lokubhala ngegama “ubunsumansumane”. Uma ngifuna ukugcizelela ukuthi yi-Science Fiction, ngithi “ubunsumansumane bekusasa”.

Uthini, mfundi omuhle? Kuyazwakala?  

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Khetha

Ngakhetha ukungena ngesango elincane, nokuhamba ngendlela eyingcingo.

Emva koKhetho, nasemva kokuba kwaphinda kwacweba iziziba, ngizithola ngihlukile. Izwe lethu libukeka sengathi nalo lihlukile – kunenhlasana yethemba, kungaqhutshekwa emva kweminyaka yenkohlakalo. Kodwa sengiqala ukuwuzwa umehluko kimina.

Kusengathi ngaba yisiphungumangathi esalenga iminyaka emoyeni, kwaqhamuka esinye isilwane kunalesiya esangena kusona. Kodwa abakwaziyo bathi isiphungumangathi singathatha iminyaka ukuze okungaphakathi kwaso kuphenduke kube ngokunye. Ngakho, emva kweminyaka, sengiphendukile.

Eqinisweni, kade ngakhetha ukuphila impilo ehlukile.  

Ngisemncane ngakhetha ukungacwasi nganoma yini, ngaphinda ngakhetha ukuba ngumuntu woxolo nokuxolisa. Ukukhetha kwami kwasekelwe kulokho engakufunda emndenini – kubazali, ikakhulukazi.

Ngakhetha ukuba yindoda engejwayelekile – vele, ngakhetha ukuba ngumuntu kuqala, hhayi umlungu ovamile. Ngakhetha ukufunda kubantu abasondelene nami, nokungachithi isikhathi sami ngokuba nomona. Kwaba yindlela eyingcingo ngempela leya.

Ngakhetha ukuthanda engibathandayo ngenhliziyo yami yonke. Ngakhetha uKhethiwe wami, olugqozi lwami mihla namalanga.

Ngakhetha indlela yempilo enobuhle nobuciko – edwetshwe ngemibala ehlukahlukene, egcwele izingoma ezimnandi, ephekwe ngezithako ezikhethekile, ebhalwe ngamazwi anogqozi noliminyoninco.

Kodwa ngisanda ukukhetha indlela eyingcingo kakhulu. Le ncwadi oyifundayo yisinyathelo esisodwa kulolo hambo.

Esokuqala saba ngukuhumusha kwami kwencwadi ephelele yesiZinda samaFa lapho kwabanjwa khona owayengumongameli wokuqala wentando yabantu, uNelson Mandela. Lowo msebenzi wangivusa ebuthongweni.

Esesibili saba ngukubhala inganekwane yami engajwayela ukuyitshela abantwana bami – uSikhulumi kaHlokohloko. Ngangena emncintiswaneni wezindatshana zesiZulu ezohlobo lwe’Speculative Fiction’, ngaba ngomunye wabayisikhombisa ababhali abakhethelwe ukuba izindatshana zabo zingene encwadini ye-Izinkanyezi ezintsha eshicilelwe nguKwasukela Books. Kwaba injabulo yodwa kimi ukunconywa ngale ndlela.

Kodwa ngangingenisa izindatshana ezimbili. Eyesibili, ukuThintana, yabukeka sengathi yayingathandeki kakhulu. Bengidumele, ngoba kwakuyindatshana yohlobo lwe’Science Fiction’, okulona engiluthanda kakhulu. Kodwa emva kwenyanga eyodwa ngashayelwa lucingo ngumHleli omuhle waKwasukela Books, uWade, ethi “Ngempela, sasingafuni ukushicilela ukuThintana njengendatshana – kungcono ibe inoveli ephelele”. Inhliziyo yami cishe yaphela lapho.

Ngakho, ngakhetha ukubhala inoveli yami yokuqala ngalolu limi olufundayo, olungulimi lukababa nomndeni wonke – hhayi ukungena ngesango elibanzi lapho baningi abangena khona. Lolu hambo lusaqhubeka. Ngithemba ukuba ngingakutshela okunye ngalo kwesinye isikhathi. Kodwa ngizokushiyela umbuzo owodwa: ukhetha ukungena ngaliphi isango?

  • Mfundi omuhle, ungabahumushela abangakhulumi isiZulu
  • Ungabhala ngokuthi nawe ukhetheni

izimvubu nezingwenya

In all the change and chaos this week brought to things in general, what with last-minute about-turns and an 11th-hour resignation, there was one little gem that I choose to pick out.

It involves hippopotami, crocodiles, and isaga sesiZulu (a Zulu proverb).

You see, just before 18:30 on Wednesday (usuku lwezithandani, futhi) I was on my way to a lesson – and, of course, I was listening to uKhozi FM. Specifically, I was listening to Abasikibebunda, the evening current affairs programme – and when I tuned in it sounded like Msholozi had actually passed away. An anonymous reporter was recounting everything that had happened in the years that he had been president, obituary-style. And then the presenter welcomed Nhlanhla Mntaka to the show – a political analyst and editor of Bayede newspaper. I’ve mentioned his other engagement with uKhozi FM before – Hlaziya ipolitiki ngolimi lwakho (Analyse politics in your language) – and I am a great fan of his work. Perhaps I am an even greater fan after the story I’m about to relate.

With the commercials needing to be aired, and with the headlines at 18:30 drawing near, the presenter interrupts the analyst’s flow of speech, and says:

MfokaMntaka, sesiphethe-nje – ngifuna siphinde sibuyele lapho enkulumeni uMengameli  abe nayo, ekhethekile, noSABC. Nokuyilapho phinde futhi khona ngaphambi kokuba aphethe inkulumo, akuchasise khona ukuthi-ke kungase kube ne-crisis eNingizimu Afrika, uma ubheka indlela lolu daba olusingathwe ngayo ngubuholi be-ANC.

{Man of the Mntaka clan, we’re wrapping up now – I want that we return to the speech that the president gave, the special one, with the SABC. And specifically the point just before he concluded his speech, where he explained that there may actually be a ‘crisis’ in South Africa, if one looks at the way that this issue was dealt with by the leadership of the ANC.}

And he replies:

IsiZulu sinaso isisho. Sithi isiZulu: Ak’kho zinyane lemvubu ladliwa zingwenya kwacweba isiziba. Angikwazi ukuchaza ngokudlula lapho.

{the Zulu language has a saying. What the language says is: it doesn’t happen that the hippo calf is eaten by crocodiles and the pool (in which they both dwell) remains clear. I am not able to explain this more accurately than that.}

And it ends there. The presenter thanks him for his input, and the show cuts to commercial. A proverb is considered a perfect answer to the topic under discussion.

But how does this proverb relate to the issue at hand? Who is the hippo-calf, and who the crocodiles?

Firstly, the way the proverb was used in the broadcast is a variation of the more standard one: “Izinyane lemvubu kalidliwanga yingwenya kwacweba iziziba” {with the hippo’s calf not eaten by a crocodile, the pools remained clear}.

Here’s how uSolwazi Nyembezi explains it:

  1. Inqolobane, ekhasini 158: uma uzwise omunye ubuhlungu obukhulu, lindela ukuthi naye hleze aziphindisele. {if you cause another great pain, expect that they will of course exact revenge}
  2. Zulu proverbs, page 79: Crocodiles and hippopotami live in the water. The crocodile, if it should ever eat the hippo calf, must expect trouble from the parent. The water cannot be clear because of the blood of the calf, and also because of the fight of the parent. Therefore, when one does something which hurts extremely, one should expect results.

So, there are a few more questions. Is Zuma the hippo calf? In which case, who’s the hippo cow or bull that will defend him? Is Ramaphosa the crocodile?

While I leave you to ponder the effect of the battle between a hippo and a crocodile on our economy and our daily lives, I want to say one more thing.

I think it is absolutely awesome that an answer that makes sense, gets listeners thinking and that is culturally resonant can be expressed as a single proverb.

Ngubunyoninco bangempela.

 

 

2440 vs 2261 / uqhekeko

Some ideas marinate for a long time before reaching the right moment to come forth.

I had written the words down on an envelope, about 9 months ago. That envelope has travelled with me all over, tucked into the depths of whatever bag I was carrying or floating freely in the back of my car.

In the centre of it is an isenzukuthi:

qheke

Though the act of exploring that word-root was born in a moment of fury, of making sense of being broken into (ukuqhekeza) and robbed earlier this year, the envelope has soaked up the various molecules of this zeitgeist in which I find myself immersed.

Qheke has two basic meanings:

  1. ukuvuleka kwento eqinile eyomile

the-act-of-getting-opened of-a-thing that-is-hardened (and) that-is-dry

  1. ukuklayeka

the-act-of-getting-klaya’d (I’ll explain in a moment)

The first meaning has signified various points of this year for me – the sudden splitting apart of so many taken-for-granted things, the lack of coherence and integrity in the world around us, the feeling that we have all been violated in some way by the different types of order we have put in place to govern ourselves – and it has acted like a koan on which I could meditate in moments where I could see the accepted world breaking open before me, revealing its dried-out bones and desiccated innards.

The second meaning relies on understanding ukuklaya:

to cut through lengthwise

to split

to cleave

to cut across the veld where there is no pathway

This is what has been realised in what has happened this evening, as the izinkonjane swoop through cloudless skies and ululation and vuvuzelas mark the end of a chapter in our history. The path that we could have taken has not been taken. A new path is being made as you read, through the long grass that has grown up in the recent rains. It is Zibandlela, after all. Kodwa beware – oxamu bayabusa ekweneni (monitor lizards are happiest in the overgrowth).

2440 vs 2261.

I knew by the sudden sound that is so much a part of this continent – ukukikizela. Ululation. A howl of joy repeated to the sky as we were spared yet another of Msholozi’s dodges.

At the heart of the numbers this evening is the fact that the party was almost evenly split down the middle.

uKhongolose uthi qheke. (the Congress goes “qheke”)

Ukuqhekeka means “ukuvuleka noma ukuhlukana phakathi kwento ebihlangane” (the opening out or separation within an object that used to be joined) as well as “ukuvula kakhulu; ukuba sobala kungafihleki” (being very open; being clear with nothing hidden).

I’m not so sure about the last one, to be honest. That remains to be seen – but I’m cautiously optimistic.

The noun for what has occurred is u(lu)qhekeko, which is

isenzo sokuhlukana phakathi; ukuqembuka; ukuhlubuka

the act of internal differentiation; factionalism; betrayal

That escalated very very quickly indeed.

You see, the splitting over the votes today shows a kind of split in loyalty, a turning against the established order. It is also a point of decision, and Mbatha adds these two lovely descriptions of ukuhlubuka:

ukuguquka emazweni akhe umuntu

alteration in a person’s words

ukulahla abantu obukade uhambisana nabo ekwenzeni kwezinto

the act of dumping those with whom you used to cooperate when doing things

 

And those of you with some sense of the language would have noted that uku-qembuka gives us iqembu, a team or party.

How ironic.

The opposite of all of this is ukubumbana. It is the mutual action required of all the particles shaped into a single clay vessel. If one molecule falters, the vessel cracks. impurities that need to be corrected are removed before firing it in a kiln.

It is my hope that we can find some ubumbano in this moment. And that we shape this new vessel in such a way that it holds true in the kiln. Because there’s nothing worse than a pot that explodes during firing. Collateral damage is severe in those cases.

iSilo siyaPhefumula – the ‘Beast’ Breathes

Umuntu uyakhuluma, kodwa iSilo siyaphefumula.

A person speaks, but the ‘Beast’ ‘breathes’.

This was just one thing I figured out a little while ago, on the birthday of the current ruling monarch (iSilo) of the amaZulu, uNgangezwe-lakhe, uHlanga-lomhlabathi, uBhejan’ophum’es’qiwini.

Out of respect, I shall not refer to this person by his igama. If you are uncertain why I’m doing this, refer to something I wrote a way back, on Inhlonipho. If you already qonda, continue.

So iSilo began to phefumula, on UKhozi FM (in the spot usually reserved for Sisexhibeni, one of my favourite things at the moment ngesiZulu) at about 8:22. I try to imagine the programme manager in a prior meeting, slotting His Majesty in with only 8 minutes to go until amanqampunqampu.

‘Hhayi, kuzolunga – kuzodingeka isikhashana-nje, protocol observed-nje’

‘No, it’ll be fine – only a bit of time is needed, just protocol observed’

And this would have been the case (probably) if this was just a ‘protocol-oberseved-nje’ thing – a birthday greeting from a public figure, ticking a few cultural points and gaining a bit of a swell in listeners. But the act of phefumula-ring – a vote of thanks to uNkulunkulu for allowing His Majesty to be the longest-reigning monarch in the history of ubukhosi besizwe amaZulu, and the need for people not to be izinhlanya (crazies) – quickly turned into khuza-ring  – which is much more than just protocol-observed-nje.

Ukukhuza is an interesting polysemic concept:

  1. to express astonishment, sympathy or other fellow-feeling (like saying hawu)
  2. to express disapproval, to rebuke or chide (also like saying hawu)
  3. to shout at someone (like memeza, but with added rank)
  4. to marshal troops; to give orders

And the khuza-ring was getting into full stride by about 8:28. ISilo ‘breathed’ directly at the DJ, and he responded with a series of respectful utterances of ‘Yebo’ and the audience listened in silence. His Majesty had, in 6 short minutes, switched to describing the illnesses affecting the current times. He started with an actual illness – igciwane leNgculazi (the germ of the Great Spear / AIDS) – and the need for people to act with respect, and be formed in school so that “umuntu avume ukuhola noma ukuholwa” (a person may say yes to leading or being led). The ukukhuza picked up pace, then – references were made to the nonsense at tertiary institutions, and ukubulalana kwabantu (the mutual murdering committed by people).

At this point, His Highness was approaching full stride, with such perfect examples of ukukhuza as:

Ngifuna ukubaxwayisa ukuthi basenza isizwe sethu inhlekiso kwezinye izizwe.

I want to make people aware of the fact that they are making our nation a laughing stock among the other nations.

Once shame and honour came into the equation, there was an automatic course to be traveled – the mentioning of his great ancestors – and specifically iSilo sasOndini, the one who defeated the English at Isandlwana. With this invocation complete, he khuza’d the following:

Ake sibuyiselwe kumaZulu lesiya sithunzi.

Would that the isithunzi of those long ago days were returned to the amaZulu.

Isithunzi is, as you’re probably gathering, a little too complex for me to do the usual thing of combing the meanings. It is related to words for shadow and shade, and has the meaning here of ‘reputation’ as well as ‘status’, ‘prestige’ and ‘dignity’. Essentially, it is the shadow that one casts, and which people must respect.

Having reached that height, iSilo descended via references to theft and crime, amanyala (disgusting habits and actions), amahlazo (shameful things characteristic of someone who is green or uncultured), unity and disunity post 1994, racism and the need for racial harmony, the economy, and landing up finally at destruction of property.

At this point, the khuza-ring thinly masked as ‘the breathing’ began to eat into the time usually reserved for izikhangiso (adverts) – and then the first interruption was heard.

Emanating from the DJ, the interruption was a single word. It was encoded very respectfully, with a slight rising intonation at the end (indicating a polite question).

Ndabezithá

Oh-You-Who-Are-Renowed-Among-Enemies

(Your Highness)

However the interruption was interpreted not as a sign to wrap up, but rather as a spur to further khuza-ring – on the Land, poverty, famine, and the spread of isizwe samaZulu in the whole of SADEC.

And then, in what he was saying, there was a moment akin to an actor acknowledging the stage and the audience and his socially-constructed role in it all:

“… ngoba kubalulekile-ke ukuthi sizenze izinto ngendlela eyiyo, ngoba asikwazi ukuthi… ukuba… kushaya umoya… yingenxa yokuthi ngiyakhuza, ngikhuze izinto engibona ukuthi azihambi kahle… ngoba nakubantu kuyabonakalela ukuthi izinto zihamba kabi ezikhathini eziningi.”

“… because it is important that we do these things in the proper way, because we cannot just relax… and it is for that reason that I am khuza-ring, and I khuza the things that I see are not going well… because even to the people it is clear that things are going badly a lot of the time.”

Then came the second ‘Ndabezitha’. And His Highness continued for isikhashana. But having reached that height of self awareness, the khuza-ring returned once more to straightforward phefumula-ring, with a final take home message – ‘yekani ukulwa’

And then the final Ndabezitha came, followed by ‘Bayede’ (a complex little word with a deep cultural resonance, derived from the dialect of iLemb’eleq’amany’amalembe and his pronunciation of ‘balethe’, meaning ‘bring-em-on’).

And then the time-stamp: “Eight…. thirty…seven”. Then silence followed, as the segment had begun, by a recording of the traditional war-cries of amabutho greeting the monarch.

No headlines. No sport. No adverts.

Now, this is something that really stood out for me – for all the talk of ‘African Time’, uKhozi FM keeps to quite a tight schedule. Government Ministers, Religious Leaders and even Msholozi would have been interrupted and told in no uncertain terms to hlala phansi, if they had encroached on the sacrosanct time devoted to the adverts, headlines and sport. But not iSilo. Now that is true power.

Bayede. Wena wendlovu! Ndabezitha!

Three month hiatus

Kade sagcinana! Mehlo madala!

It’s been too long since I last wrote anything on here. All that I’ve been able to connect with are a few glances at analytics every now and then, but no writing.

And it’s not because I haven’t had things to write about! It’s rather that I haven’t had the headspace to devote to this precious thing, in between fulfilling my dream job as the Knowledge and Research Manager at an NGO (seriously, that wasn’t sarcasm – I love the job) and adulting. But I’ve hopefully got a bit of a breather, so here’s a brief jeqe over the past few months –

I have three new individual clients, all at school level, all rewardingly bright and interested – the highlight here would be when one particularly visual learner got me thinking about the noun classes in terms of shapes:

umu-/imi- is composed of things with straight lines and even numbers, as opposed to isi-/izi- which is crooked lines and odd numbers (or asymmetry); ili-/ama- is circles and spheres and simple curved lines, where in-/izin- is irregularly curving lines and ulu- is made up of curving lines that change and move like the ocean.

I’m three-quarters of the way through translating a major museum exhibit into isiZulu, diving into 30 000 words of history and voices that mean a lot to me personally. When it’s done, I’ll ask permission to brag about it, but for now you can get a sneak peak of a finished section:

“AmaZulu, aholwa yiNkosi uBhambatha, enqabe ukugoba uphondo, ngakho kwakhula umoya womzabalazo onamandla kubo, kuhle okwempi yaseSandlwana yona eyaletha ugqozi nofuqufuqu ezizukulwaneni zaseNingizimu Afrika.”

In addition to this, I have had wonderful success using some of the izinganekwane that I wrote as texts for my classes – though always accompanied by a live reading, because the stories are meant to be heard. Here’s the beginning of my favourite, Amavukutu:

Kwasuka-sukela… Kwathi ekuqaleni, ekudabukeni ohlangeni, kwakunenkosi enkulu enabafazi abaningi. Le nkosi yayinezinkomo ezingaka nezinkanyezi zasebusuku, namabutho anjengolwandle lwemikhonto. Kwakuyinkosi enkulu ngempela. Kepha kwakunenkinga ebukhosini bayo, ngoba abafazi abazalanga abantwana. Babezala amagwababa kuphela!

… for which I received the greatest praise of all. One of the my students, without telling me, took the story to a Zulu-speaking colleague. Her feedback was that he appreciated the fact that it was told in the traditional manner, and that the story was one he knew. What blew me away was that she also told me that the man has no idea that I am white-skinned.

So there are many things to write about, and hopefully this mid-year gap will allow me to do so!

L’esprit d’escalier

caution: this blog contains some swearing / isixwayiso: kunenhlamba kuleli blog

I had my fighting shoes on. Tan brown hightops, white t-shirt and jeans. I strode in there demanding justice, and was met with four occupied attendants.

So I sat down, and waited, and surveyed the battlefield.

Yellow. Everything was yellow. The colour of ubuhlanzo. I felt nauseated just sitting there.

Four potential opponents. Would it be the isimomondiya and isidudla on the right? Or inkwishelana and insizw’emfushane on the left?

I waited patiently, sitting, hearing the joy in people’s voices as they were told of the wonders that were in store in-store once they put their signature on the dotted line and handed over their money.

“Be careful”, I wanted to shout – “Qaphelani!”

Not all that is yellow is gold. No matter how much it glitters.

So, I waited, until finally I was caller number zero in the queue. Ground zero. Insizw’emfushane. Protocol observed (he opted for Joji, so I went with it), we got down to business.

“I’m here because it’s been two weeks since my wife’s phone was stolen, and we still haven’t heard anything from you guys. I see that Paul isn’t here. That’s lucky for him, cos he’s in a lot of shit. He hasn’t been responding to emails or answering phone calls.”

“When did you guys send in the claim form?”

“About two weeks ago.”

“Ok, let me phone them.”

Five minutes pass, during which time insizw’emfushane multi-tasks – first with a mate, ngesiJozi, about phones, then taking out the trash, then helping someone with photocopying. Eventually, as he’s finishing his call, he comes back to sit down.

“You see, the problem is that they don’t have any record of the ID number or the Cell Number on the system.”

“How can that be? She’s been paying the insurance each month. Paul must have fucked up somehow. We are going to escalate this – give me the number of someone higher up.”

“There’s only this one number for the Insurance people.”

“And a Manager? Where is he today?”

“Ah, no, there’s no Manager.”

At this point I lost it. Completely.

“What? What the fuck? You know what? We are taking you to the Ombudsman, and to court if we have to, because this is bullshit. Fuck this shit.”

And as I left, I declared “Fuck you” over my shoulder.

Now, that would have been the end of it. Except that one cocky motherfucker laughed. So ngishay’ i-handbrake turn and I walked back in there. Time for the Zulu dub.

I berated them all, in my biggest and shoutiest isiZulu voice (channeling Mntwana kaMinya’s spirit).  Along with the necessary berating body language, I used tone and pause to great effect, and broke all the usual rules for eye contact. In short, I was an angry white man shouting isiZulu fluently and with vigour.

But afterwards, of course, as I made my way shakily to my care, adrenalin coursing through my veins, I thought of better, meatier things to say.

So {L’esprit d’escalier} is in the curly brackets.

“Nihlekani?” {Ngiyinhlekiso kinina?}

“Sikhokh’ imali la” {Sikhokhel’ iholo lenu}

“Kune-contract” {Kunesivumelwano ngaphakathi kwethu}

“Wumthetho” {Sizobonana enkantolo}

“Sukani!” {Tsek, bosathanina}

Needless to say that as I engaged in a translated version of my previous exit from the shop, there was no more laughter. There was a stunned silence.

As a conclusion, into this space here, I add a few other imprecations:

Tsek, MTN, and all your Insurance Agents.  You lie. Since you never read your HelloPeter page, I doubt you’ll ever read this. Ninamanga.

Tsek, Paul at MTN Killarney. You are a lying shit. And you are fraudulent in your business dealings. Tsek. Suka. Unamanga.