"RUNNING"
I have started “running”, the one where you get on a machine. Eventually when I have mastered this machine I will then attempt the real thing. A person might wonder why I have seen the light, why I have finally hoped on to the “healthier tomorrow” bandwagon. Previously I had spouted supposedly genius theories as to why a healthier tomorrow was a waste of time, if you want to look like Tatyana Ali, just say that and nothing else. I should say now that I am not a hypocrite. I stand by what I say. I still say, why insist on making sure you live to a very old age when you have already been assured by scientific experts that Global Warming is here to stay. If the baby boomer’s grandchildren are going to watch coastlines go further inland, then that translates into my children watching Lake Victoria becoming a swamp. Why on earth would I want to be there to see that? Perhaps if I liked fish, then maybe I could be with the millions of people camped on the receding lakeside having a fish fry. But fish are very fishy hence the word fishy. I believe they are in league with the evil fruit. But then again, I was forced to take Cod Liver Oil. No love lost since then.
The point is, I do not want to be alive sixty years from now. Or if I do, then I want to be married to a filthy rich man, or like Anna Nicole Smith minus the dying part. Either way, If I am alive, I want to have enough money to afford my own private oxygen bubble estate on top of the Kilimanjaro which will be prime real estate by then. If not that, then Everest. I’m thinking as high as possible here.
So one would wonder why I am exercising then, right? Well it is simply because a situation has arisen where I have got to tap into the gene pool I share with Dorcus Inzikuru. The time has come when y.z. shall run. Previously I had proclaimed that on this day, pigs would fly but unfortunately all the pigs are being roasted in various bars in a rift valley in East Africa. The bar owners are actually saving a lot because they are selling the wings as “chicken” (The public had caught on to the whole marabou stork thing). So although I have not seen it, the pigs do fly and as a result I must run.
And it is all Mugabe’s fault. If Mugabe had just taken defeat like the man he was once upon a time then Zimbabweans would not have fled Zimbabwe to South Africa for “The Great African Dream”. If they had not fled here, then the South Africans in the townships might not have noticed the fact that their country is filled with a variety of other Africans doing a variety of jobs that they could do. If they had not noticed they might not have developed hate for us foreigners. If they had not developed hate they would have begun attacking said foreigners because of nugu. If they had not begun attacking foreigners then the government would not have put the army on standby in Jo’burg. If the army wasn’t on standby, then the already pissed off indigenous South Africans would not have thought it was regression into Apartheid and in fury killed more foreigners.
And then I would not have felt my life at risk and decided that it was time to put Gayaza digi aside and try this strange art of moving my feet quickly. It is truly a baffling practice, this “running”. You work up a sweat and you lead your body to believe that there is a threat when in reality it is for “healthier tomorrow”. I am surprised that many bodies out there have not revolted. Mine has but then again I had led it to believe that there was a democracy going on here, that it had a say in all matters. And that is a good dictatorship for you, when they think they are actually in a democracy. I got it to believe that fruit and milk are the enemy, didn’t I? But this queer pumping of the legs behaviour will have to be slowly introduced. First we will begin by admitting that perhaps milk and fruit are not totally evil. Once it gets over the fact that I have lied to it, I will then apologise and say that this, “running”, is for our mutual benefit, development for the future. Then the bizarre “running” can begin. T hen we will see how it works. I believe that it will work best if there is a mob behind me with sticks, stones and pangas (machetes). I think that at that point, my Inzikuru genes will shine. In fact I will be like Gebraselassie. But since gambling is not my forte, while I practice this strange “running” I will maintain a low profile. Home. School. Home. School. Home.
…till the xenophobia is over….
I have started “running”, the one where you get on a machine. Eventually when I have mastered this machine I will then attempt the real thing. A person might wonder why I have seen the light, why I have finally hoped on to the “healthier tomorrow” bandwagon. Previously I had spouted supposedly genius theories as to why a healthier tomorrow was a waste of time, if you want to look like Tatyana Ali, just say that and nothing else. I should say now that I am not a hypocrite. I stand by what I say. I still say, why insist on making sure you live to a very old age when you have already been assured by scientific experts that Global Warming is here to stay. If the baby boomer’s grandchildren are going to watch coastlines go further inland, then that translates into my children watching Lake Victoria becoming a swamp. Why on earth would I want to be there to see that? Perhaps if I liked fish, then maybe I could be with the millions of people camped on the receding lakeside having a fish fry. But fish are very fishy hence the word fishy. I believe they are in league with the evil fruit. But then again, I was forced to take Cod Liver Oil. No love lost since then.
The point is, I do not want to be alive sixty years from now. Or if I do, then I want to be married to a filthy rich man, or like Anna Nicole Smith minus the dying part. Either way, If I am alive, I want to have enough money to afford my own private oxygen bubble estate on top of the Kilimanjaro which will be prime real estate by then. If not that, then Everest. I’m thinking as high as possible here.
So one would wonder why I am exercising then, right? Well it is simply because a situation has arisen where I have got to tap into the gene pool I share with Dorcus Inzikuru. The time has come when y.z. shall run. Previously I had proclaimed that on this day, pigs would fly but unfortunately all the pigs are being roasted in various bars in a rift valley in East Africa. The bar owners are actually saving a lot because they are selling the wings as “chicken” (The public had caught on to the whole marabou stork thing). So although I have not seen it, the pigs do fly and as a result I must run.
And it is all Mugabe’s fault. If Mugabe had just taken defeat like the man he was once upon a time then Zimbabweans would not have fled Zimbabwe to South Africa for “The Great African Dream”. If they had not fled here, then the South Africans in the townships might not have noticed the fact that their country is filled with a variety of other Africans doing a variety of jobs that they could do. If they had not noticed they might not have developed hate for us foreigners. If they had not developed hate they would have begun attacking said foreigners because of nugu. If they had not begun attacking foreigners then the government would not have put the army on standby in Jo’burg. If the army wasn’t on standby, then the already pissed off indigenous South Africans would not have thought it was regression into Apartheid and in fury killed more foreigners.
And then I would not have felt my life at risk and decided that it was time to put Gayaza digi aside and try this strange art of moving my feet quickly. It is truly a baffling practice, this “running”. You work up a sweat and you lead your body to believe that there is a threat when in reality it is for “healthier tomorrow”. I am surprised that many bodies out there have not revolted. Mine has but then again I had led it to believe that there was a democracy going on here, that it had a say in all matters. And that is a good dictatorship for you, when they think they are actually in a democracy. I got it to believe that fruit and milk are the enemy, didn’t I? But this queer pumping of the legs behaviour will have to be slowly introduced. First we will begin by admitting that perhaps milk and fruit are not totally evil. Once it gets over the fact that I have lied to it, I will then apologise and say that this, “running”, is for our mutual benefit, development for the future. Then the bizarre “running” can begin. T hen we will see how it works. I believe that it will work best if there is a mob behind me with sticks, stones and pangas (machetes). I think that at that point, my Inzikuru genes will shine. In fact I will be like Gebraselassie. But since gambling is not my forte, while I practice this strange “running” I will maintain a low profile. Home. School. Home. School. Home.
…till the xenophobia is over….
2 comments
been wondering how you are getting on. nice that you wrote. i pray this continues to pass over you.
REPLYi started jogging too. if you can call what i do "jogging" :-)
You're fine! :o)
REPLYhi! thanks for commenting. I'm always open to new ideas. I can't wait to hear yours.