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Category Archives: prose

– seconds out!

round number: one million, six-hundred and twenty-eleven & three thousand

pop! go the cultures

*

the crowd are on their feat

suddenly, an unscheduled happening…

lights fail momentarily, but not unexpectedly (that’s the way we roll with Eskom)

the microphone squeals and the commentator takes the first press-ing swing

it’s a stiff jab and it finds its mark – well exceeding the quota system

the self-crowned champion stops in his tracks for a brief moment as if to catch his breath

“hehehehehehe” he chuckles smirkishly

he staggers back and shakes his head

everyone waits,

no one dares to speak

nobody thinks

*

then suddenly he scrapes his toe like a cleft hoof in the dust

defiantly, he charges…

like a bull…

CRASH!

*

round after round

objection after objection

rebuttal after rebuttal

head buttal after head buttal

back and forth the battle rages on

the champion stands firm

but – out of the crowd someone shouts

“the champion is falling…”

“the champion must fall!”

but no, he only stumbles for a brief moment

and then staggers

he turns to his corner and fires a few of his ‘seconds’

“he must fall” some spectators shout

“no, he mustn’t” say others

*

the judges object, …eventually

“we must go according to the rules!”

“what rules? …hehehehehehehe!” says the champion

*

points are taken away

…and then added on mysteriously

*

the battle rages on into the night

*

will cultural tribalism triumph over constitutional democracy

or will it all end in unresolved conflict outside the ring?

*

[break for advertisement – Big business make their presence felt]

*

new replacement seconds out!

round number “AGAIN!”

*

the battle rages on

sweat drips,

runs into blood

(thank God blood is a consumer commodity and easily tax deductible)

*

the clock ticks on…

years turn into days,

days into centuries

decades turn into decadence

unwritten history rewrites itself

*

deadlock

both contestants drop to the canvas

bloodied, exhausted, frustrated

fights break out in the spectator seats

*

chaos

*

the fighters leave the ring momentarily

while local boxing clubs realign regional constitutions

the janitor shuffles amongst the overturned seats

all that can be heard is the slow swish, swish of his broom

*

“a point of order! a point of order!”

“the chairs have been unseated”

*

“when the lights are out its the janitor who is President”

…the sweeper mutters under his breath