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Creative Writing (8)

Wednesday, 20 November 2019 17:58

The Boy with the Buttons at the Bus-stop

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I was huddled at the bus stop, partially sheltered from the South-Easter’s icy fingers, as it fiddled at the crevice of my coat and pinched my cheeks playfully. Ominous clouds hung overhead, heavily pregnant with rain, an imminent birth soon to be unburdened from the heavens.


He appeared as if from nowhere, his expression as innocent as his clothes were threadbare. Dirty blue jeans, scuffed sneakers and a cotton sweater with the buttons done up wrong were his body’s only defence against the elements.

Toe lees ek mos as 8-jarige laaitie die boek. Nou is daar klomp goed wat ek nie mooi verstaan nie. Nou sien ek maar Jack is die held in die storie. Maar die saak maak nie vir my sin nie.
 
 
 
Jack word deur sy Ma gestuur om die koei te verkoep. Toe volg die blikskottel nie sy Ma se raad nie en maak n Dom transaksie vir boontjies. Toe die boontjies weggegooi word groei dit. Toe klim die Dom klong die boontjies en gaan roof en besteel iemand anders se waardevolle goed. Toe die ou uitvind van die Dom skelm Jack se inbraak,toe vlug Dom Jack. Maar toe vermoor Jack die ou. Toe is Jack somma die held in sy Ma se oë want sy kry mos nou benefits uit die saak al is dit moord.
 
 
 
Toe sê my kinderbreins vir my, ek moet net mooi watch wat ek lees. Toe jare later toe besef my kinderbreins dat dit die Engelse se manier van justification was om hul kinders te brainwash, dat dit okay is om in n ander land in te gaan om te roof,plunder en vermoor...
 
 
Nou likes ek nie Meer vir Jack nie want hys n Dom, Skelm en Moordenaar.
Plus hy word as die Held voorgehou!!
Arme Reus, het vir hom niks gemaak nie en was happy voor hy daar uitgestiek het. Ingelse propoganda het gewerk.
 
 
Hulle het die wêreld gekoloniseer en die skatte weggedra. Nou is die pond steeds sterk...
Tuesday, 03 October 2017 02:04

Metrorail Diaries - Watch Your Step

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People are hanging out of the moving train as it enters the station.
It’s mind-boggling to think that this scary sight is common-practise.

Some wanna-be ‘stuntmen’ literally hit the ground running as it slows down and is about to come to a stop.
Commuters waiting on the station have to take evasive action to avoid colliding with these almost out of control ‘stuntmen’.
Tuesday, 05 September 2017 16:50

Metrorail Diaries - In a Pinch

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The taxi is an old Toyota Hiace. The seats pinch and sting your butt.
When brakes are applied, it shakes like a junkie in need of a fix.
Alles vibrate… My tanne klap effentjies tien mekaa… My oë traan…  Ek’s wakker nou…

Monday, 21 August 2017 17:18

Terug Na Toeka

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TERUG NA TOEKA

GEDIG DEUR BERNARD FIELIES

Wednesday, 14 June 2017 16:19

Metrorail Diaries - The New Guy

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Amongst all the choas with commuters ransacking stations because of train cancellations, now there are rumours that Metrorail workers are planning to strike.
I thought that they are always on strike and have been striking ever since I can remember. Let's hope that it's just a rumour...
The ticket-verifier at the turnstile stands with her hands in her pockets, the collar of her jacket turned upwards and her head covered in a beany.
She yawns as she gleans over my ticket. I'm not sure whether her eyes are open. I’m not even sure if she is registering the information on the ticket.

Tuesday, 18 April 2017 20:00

Metrorail Diaries - Cheese It and Enjoy It

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"All Trains are running 10 minutes late" Voicemail Lady announces.
We aren’t really paying attention. We are used to this. The train eventually comes rushing into the station, pretending to be on time.
The vibe on board is not too vibrant. Capetonians are affected by the weather and temperatures. Cold and overcast weather in the middle of summer does not encourage us to have spontaneous conversations. We usually become withdrawn on days like this, but today someone luckily breaks the silence.

Wednesday, 29 March 2017 12:03

Metrorail Diaries - A Scary Act

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‘Climate Change’; it is a term enjoying prominence in the last decade with Cape Town and its Mediterranean climate being the front-runner of this phenomenon.  
It’s a sunny windless morning with the smell of perfume and cologne trying to overwhelm the senses; each one has its own character and charm.


“Wat klap soe?” a guy asks a group of three friends as the train makes its way to the next station.
“It staan soe” a guy from the group replies.
“Hosh” the first guy replies.
“Gaan ôs soe dala my ma se kin?” another guy asks.
“Aweh ôs staan op haai nomme. ’n Man moet ’n kroon kyk, of wat sê die broese?” another guy in the group interjects, looking at the rest of the group.