I always saw lying to a girl as part of a relationship. You lie about the most mundane and trivial of things. You never told her where you’re really going, when you’re gonna see her, and, my personal favorite, I always lied about what I was studying. Lately it’s about what I do for a living, of course. If she knows what you’re studying she can find out your schedule. If she knows what you do she’s gonna want to judge your pockets. It’s about being as illusive as possible, never giving my location or itinerary.
Why? For shits and giggles! Not really. I’ll tell you guys why.
After I “broke up” with my High School girlfriend in what must be one of the worst ways go shayiwa ka stena, I picked myself up and looked to a brighter future. I’m an optimist mos!
I had “unfortunately” concentrated on my studies and relationship and had neglected my friends. The only friend I had was my flatmate, Jerry. Great guy that Jerry. I met him during orientation week and we later decided to get a flat together. I told Jerry about what happened with me and my now ex-girlfriend. He said “Motswalle, dilo tse di a tena. Why do you think I’m single? Playa for life boss! Ke tla ijella mabelete le matekatsi mara being in love is a bunch of bullshit.”
I didn’t want to believe it at all. Of course I was still in love with my ex. She was my Mona Lisa, the Mshoza to my Mzambiya, my kortes, my puntshupuntshu! She was who I thought about when a Luther Vandross song came on. I was sad when our favorite Baby Face song came on the radio. I listened to Eddie Zondi on Sundays and my heart would break. I thought about telling her I want her back but that would be chasing pavements. She had moved on with some other dude and left me holding a bleeding heart. You get your heart broken at least once in your lifetime, i rationalized to myself.
“Mfana, it’s time to wipe tears, clean your dick and put it in a brand new box. It’s time to start slapping your dick in strange and funky places. Tonight, we’re going out!” I should thank Jerry for this little speech. I couldn’t just sit at home and moan about lost love. I’ve got enough love in my ball sack and it’s time to spread this seed!
Me and Jerry head out to Numbers. The most rotten, dirtiest, sack-of-shit hell hole in PTA at the time. We were on a quest to find skanks to bring back to the flat to sing on the mic.
Numbers was poppin’ per usual. This was around the time when Revolution had released their CD and it was a major hit. You couldn’t not hear it if you went out. And then there was the trend of wearing red. Red pants, red top, red shoes, red hair, red damn near everything! When we arrived we got ourselves the usual Black Label quarts at the bar, two loose cigarettes, and when we looked across the dance floor it was a sea of these trendy chicks in their red outfits gyrating to Revolution with sweaty weaves and the place smelling like a thousand Zulus.
We were certainly at the right spot for our mission.
We pick a spot at one of the tables and start looking for lost lambs and those desperate for attention. With the beers it’s one man one quart so we can easily get lost in the crowd without worrying about the other person not drinking.
The beer was flowing, competition for the available chicks heating up and much dancing and ass grabbing. Later on Jerry stumbles on these two farmish chicks and gets to macking. These girls aren’t really my style but tonight is about getting laid, not getting into a relationship. He lays it down and we decide to chill with them at their table. A couple of Smirnoff Ice bottles later and we were on our way home with the girls.
We get home and Jerry takes his girl to his bedroom and I take mine too. Me and the girl start to get hot and heavy in the bedroom, kissing, grinding, groaning and moaning. I start to take her clothes off and she takes mine off too. We get stark naked and I go get my condoms from the wardrobe. As I turn back around and go to the bed I notice that this girl has a rope around her waist. I’ve seen some of my friends with those ropes but I’m not sure exactly what they’re for. “Fuck it”, I say to myself, “I’ve never heard about these ropes killing anyone. I’m gonna teach this farmish girl some new things.” Back stroke, front stroke, tongue all down her throat!
After many orgasms and a morning session me and Jerry decide it’s time the girls go home. So we walk them halfway to Sunnyside and head back to out flat. On our way there, because that’s what guys do, we talk about how the punani was. “Jerry, that was an insane night my man. I gave it to that girl good. Did you hear the way she was screaming?” “Yeah Sipz, I bet those girls are gonna come back looking for seconds.” “Eish Jerry but I noticed that she had a rope around her waist. What is that rope for?” Jerry stopped dead in his tracks and pulled me back. “Ijaa! Sipz! You saw the rope and went ahead and banged her anyways?” “Jerry what’s wrong with that?”
I was starting to get really nervous now because Jerry had a really scared look on his face. “Sipz, I heard that if you bang a girl with a rope around her waist then her ancestors have taken you. Dude, o loilwe.” WTF!
Jerry suggests that we go to Marabastad taxi rank to see a sangoma to break the curse. I was shit scared at this point and agreed that we should go. We catch a taxi to Marabastad immediately. “Jerry are you sure mfethu? What is that stuff for?” “It’s for protection. If you use the girl the way you did then some shit is gonna happen to you.” An image ran through my head that my dick was gonna fall off and that my balls were infected and I won’t have kids later in life.
We get to Marabastad and find the section where they have all the muthi and sangomas. We ask around for sangomas who can help us and a this Venda guy says we should go see Prof Sekwekwe, he’s the best around here because he’s from Bushbuckridge. Apparently Bushbuckridge has the best sangomas, ba phala baloi ba ko Limpopo. Prof Sekwekwe has an office at the building next to the taxi rank.
We walk into his office and there’s a line at reception. Yes! This motherfucker has a receptionist! We see posters on the wall, “Prof Sekwekwe! Best Sangoma from Bushbuckridge! Are you looking for a job? Financial problems? Manhood problems? Lost love? Get help now!” Another read “Prof Sekwekwe! Has someone sent a lighting to your house? Do you have a snake in your stomach? Are you bewitched? Is a tokoloshi after you? Cast away evil spells.” All the posters showed a link to a website and a FaceBook page. This doctor sure is forward thinking. For all those that don’t believe in sangomas and lightning, Harry Potter ke moloi wa legadima, he has lightning on his forehead.
Well, it seems I was definitely at the right place.
We booked our spot with the receptionist (a goddamn receptionist!) and sat down. People there had kids with them, some looked like they had just come out of hospital still wearing hospital tags, and others brought bags ekare ba tlile go loya someone. Prof Sekwekwe sure was a busy man.
Soon it was my turn and Jerry gave me some advise. “Dude, when you walk in take off your shoes and don’t say a word. This nigga is supposed to tell you what’s wrong with you.” So I walk in, take off my shoes and sit down on the grass mat. Prof looked like your typical sangoma with the beads and dressing. He had his certificates displayed on the wall but I couldn’t see what his Medunsa-By-The-Floor qualifications said. He also had a desk, a computer, a couch and cupboard full of jars of powders, tree roots, monkey paws, lion dicks, hyena vaginas and other animal appendages (That’s my best guess, I don’t really know.)
Prof walks over and sits down in front of me. “Blow into this…” So I blow into what looks like an elephant’s ball sack. “Makhosi!” “Siyavuma!” He throws the bones on the floor and goes into an epileptic fit, shaking and groaning. “Le ja fela ha le nyale! Le tla tsena mo masepeng!” That was quite unprofessional, I thought, how do you judge your client like that? He continued “Are you gay? Because I see a man is responsible for this.” A man? Who the hell can that be? “I’m not gay Prof. I don’t know who that can be.” “Here, you must boil this and drink it so you can be protected against this evil spirit from this man.” I get up, leave a couple of clippers on the floor and head for the door.
“Sipz, what did the Prof say?” “He said it was a man who was behind this. But which man would this be?”
So I call my ex to just so I can try and piece this thing together. “Where’s your new man from? Limpopo?” “Sipz, why would you ask something like that? Yes he’s from there but it’s got nothing to do with you.” Oh, I knew it! it was that Limpopo nigga! Batho ba Limpopo ba kotsi ka boloi!
So me and Jerry go back to our flat, with my medicine in my hand. It looks like it was someone else and not that girl who bewitched me!
My Dad one told me “Don’t ever try ditlhare tswa Setswana. It’s diseases in a bottle!” On our way back I start to think twice about this “medicine” that I was given. How am I supposed to get cured with this medicine? Should I really drink it?
Jerry decides to buy pap sak (box wine). It’s danm horrible but he’s a trick where he mixes Oros into it, and then from there it’s the going! I thought, fuck the medicine man and those damn branches he gave me, let’s get fucked up!
Our drinking was in full swing, when there was a knock at the door. Jerry went to open door. Lo and behold last night’s conquests have come back for seconds. “Aah! Girls! Are you back for some more?!” The rope girl goes to take a seat on the couch. “Sipz, what have you been doing today?” “Huh? What kind of question is that?” “Sipz, did you go visit a sangoma today?” “Huh? What the hell kind of question is that?” “Sipz, I work for my uncle as a receptionist at Marabastad taxi rank and I saw you coming out of Prof Sekwekwe’s offices. My uncle is also a sangoma. Our office was struck by lightning today and it hit my uncle. Did you go and buy lightning from Prof Sekwekwe to come and hit me?” “Ao bathong! Why would I do that?” “Sipz, nna le wena re tlile go kolopana ka magadima. You must be careful next time you go outside!”, she said as she went into some epileptic fit, “Heeeeeeeiiii!” My dick is definitely going to fall off!