WHO SHOT THE SHERRIFF??

 WHO SHOT THE SHERRIFF??

Who shot the Sherriff? Well, I have  finally managed to crack into this cold case and came to the truth of the age-old question that has been distressing many of you, since that fateful day, eons ago, when a blue-blood was ganged down in cold blood by a red blood. However, I must make it clear that this murder mystery is not entirely in correlation with Nester’s public confession to gunning down a Sherriff, but rather a bold look into who really shot the Sherriff.

Yet, before I make this public announcement, I must warn you all that my perception into this murder mystery is based off on hypermnesia, a special ability I supposedly have, that allows me to vividly recall the past.  Ok people, let us not dwell on the percentages of the accuracy of my gifting but rather fixate on its effectiveness to see way into past time and uncover hidden truths that are beyond scientific zones. Therefore, any of you who dare counter my truth findings will consequently encounter my wrath. You all have been warned.

Now, are you all ready for the whole truth, as to who shot the Sherriff? It was his villainess ex-wife Foxy that put a bullet through the Sherriff’s head without flinching, then turned around and framed her part-time lover, the Sheriff’s deputy, who solely took the blame for it.

So much for trying to change a moll from living the thug life, by turning her into a house wife. The saying is true, that you can take a wife and form a wretch but you cannot take a wretch and form a wife, right? Foxy was a bonafide assassin and murder she wrote on the Sherriff’s grave. It is a cold world out here people.

That blue collar career had the Sherriff walking in that crime-infested ghost town like he was superman, yet the bounty on his head was executed by his very own kryptonite. All the while, he thought that Foxy was a damsel in distress, yet it turned out that he was the one in need of salvation. She had him whipped from the get-go, played him like a toy, and duped him, hook, line, and sinker into her web of lies and destruction. A blue blood exterminated by a red blood? I swear, ain’t that a kick in the head?  I pity men out here.

However, it truly was the Sheriff’s deputy that I felt sorry for. That innocent man was played for a fool, fell for the seductress, and literally chained himself to the devil. Perhaps the sex magic overpowered him or maybe the voodoo overwhelmed him right into his demise. To best simplify it, the guy was just caught up in a love triangle that was a misfire, which led him on the highway to hell.

Then who shot the Sheriff’s deputy? If Foxy did not axe him, then who did? A mystery for the ages, that even time travel has not permitted me to come close to a solid answer. Nonetheless, I can loosely  deduce that only the crime warlords are guilty of this heinous crime. In actuality, the warlords, those blood-thirsty mercenaries, were behind the death of the Sheriff, by sending a siren to do their dirty job. All they wanted was the key to that dirt town, and the blue bloods were standing in the way of their dream.

Hence, the Sheriff and his deputy paid the ultimate price, in order to make room for those guerrilla soldiers, in order that their takeover would be complete. Yet, it does not make any sense as to why the warlords formulated a plot to kill the Sheriff, when they could have just ousted him out of office and ran him out of town?

Perhaps their “Shoot first then ask questions later.” policy is what they were working with at the time, as they were famously known for not being such great thinkers during their reign of terror. Thus, their plans were majorly bum-rushed and not well thought through. After the Sheriff and his deputy departed to be with the Lord, the government of the day swopped into the dirt town, rid it of all its critters, cleaned up the entire force, and injected it with more blue blood.

What of Foxy? Well, in all honesty, she killed the best thing that ever happened to her, and got caught up in the government’s spring cleaning. If I was in her shoes, I would have ditched the guerrilla gang for marital bliss, and a happily ever after with the beloved Sherriff. Afterall, nothing came of her being Lady Cruella, in conjunction with the suicide squad. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I tell you, crime did not pay Foxy at all.

Regardless, nobody rutted her out as the Sheriff’s killer, all thanks to the blood oath she partook with her fellow marauders. In the end, she officially became a drifter, unable to unhook from the life of crime, until her death. Yes people, now that we know the truth, let us forgive those who have burned us, burry all our hatchets, pay our respects to the dead, and live our lives in perpetual peace, as God intended. Rest in power Sheriff. Cold case completely closed.

 

STUCK IN THE FRIEND-ZONE??

 

STUCK IN THE FRIEND-ZONE??

A friend once told me that it will be a cold day in hell before he ever thought of wifing up tainted women. I will grant this friend an alias and call him Remmy, for the sake of this entire discourse. It has been a whole decade since Remmy commenced searching for his one pure love. Needless to say, Remmy still is as single as a pringle. To him, blemished women are bag ladies that come with a whole lot of baggage, and most especially those with; divorce tags, separation stamps, single-mother badges, and cougar trademarks. That is basically summing up eighty percent of female folk world-wide.

Anyway, my guess is as good as yours. The problem with Remmy is not that he is a prude or somewhat traditionally chauvinistic but he is more so an idealist who is borderline hard-core stupid. All that self-righteous nonsense he keeps posting all over social media has had him in singletude in like forever. The way I see it, Remmy desires a Stepford wife, one who is user-friendly and without glitches, one who comes with a high-tech remote control, a long-life battery, and has a twenty-year warranty. This type of a humanoid woman will suit him better than the one who comes in the flesh.

A few years back, Remmy had some sort of awakening that made him eager to take a leap of faith toward a blessed lady. However, he could not seem to shake the divorce tags off her. Moreover, he was worried that she would infect him with her amoral conduct of dumping long term relations like yesterday’s trash. Remmy further told me that his divine values played a huge role in discarding his romantic interest but I knew that the fear of being a future divorcee plagued him wildly. Come to think of it, why was I giving this nonentity all my airtime, to diplomatically insult women with his moral bull, when I should have been dismissing him like the grout he was?

Oh, yes. Come to think of it, this is why I befriend him. You see, Remmy was the only one in my life who stood by me, when that fool of a man broke the other remaining good piece of my heart, stole all my hard-earned money, got my former house help pregnant, and eloped with her into the sunset. I hope for both their sakes that the grass is greener on the other side of infidelity and betrayal. So, anyway, I owe Remmy a soft shoulder to cry on, anytime his love life hits a snag, a phenomenon which is most frequent in occurrence. So much for true friendship. Hence, I have no choice but to listen to his white-girl problems everytime he needs to let off some steam.

If you are wondering why our friendship has never turned fiery enough to spark a romance flame, it is because according to Remmy’s moral chart, I am already stained by the stigma of single-motherhood, thus there was no way he would accommodate or exempt me from his puritan rules, just because are were friends. Hence, I am forever boxed in his friend-zone.

Now, before you all decide to have a pity-party on my behalf, I will gladly let you all on a little secret. It is an actual fact that my friend Remmy lives in utopia, where he desires to be with an ideal partner, who only exists in Lala land. Actually, even God has not thought of creating that kind of a female specimen that my friend constantly idolizes. Infact, I would be bold enough and say that this perfect woman only exist in Remmy’s mind space. I would have quoted bible verses in his ear, had he the stamina to embrace the ugly truth.

Moreover, I do believe that Remmy is plagued by an existential vacuum, which causes him to pine for extra terrestrial women existing only in his fantasies. He still awaits for the beautiful and pure ones to be born, before he can pick a wife out from among them. I do not wish to burst his bubble, by letting him on the face that he will have transitioned into being an ancestor before that miracle ever happens.

Do not get me wrong, I took no offense to Remmy friend-zoning me, because why would I? Besides, we made a pact that we would be each others back-up plan and last resort, should that unconditional love failed to come knocking at my door or when he would finally give up on finding his perfect woman and call it a day. He would be the best roommate for me, when we both turned sixty five and still uncommitted.

See, we have already ironed out all the details of our retirement plan. For now, we shall remain forever twenty one. However, at the golden age of sixty five; Remmy and I will buy a two-bedroom bungalow, hire two night and day nurses, a cook, and a driver for our medical, as well as other divers appointments. Incase our plan fails to pan out, then I will have an added advantage over him, in the fact that I will be banking on my daughter to show mercy and care for me way into my old age, when my beauty fades and my body becomes frail.

Nonetheless, my faith in love is still strong and my prospects are still in plenty, even though I am no spring chicken. I also do hope and pray that Remmy finds the woman of his dreams. Until then, Remmy and I remain to be just friends.

HAVE YOU ALREADY PAID YOUR BLACK TAX??

 

HAVE YOU ALREADY PAID YOUR BLACK TAX??

Are you of African decent, nouveau riche, financially favoured, and a rising star? Good for you mate! Well, I have great news for you. You are now best suited to pay Black Tax. Congratulations to you child, for in the next decade or so, you will be placed in a benevolent position within your family setting, where you will transform to become a human piñata, with blissful party favours, one who is dabbed as sufficiently philanthropic, and with a zeal for generosity just like Father Christmas. Halleluiah!

Welcome to adulthood my dear friends, whereby reality is harsh and the truth is as cold as ice. You see, now that heaven has smiled on you and chosen you to be a custodian of financial wealth, you have no choice but to generously share your wealth amongst your family members, both nuclear and extended. All you need to do is to cough up a lump sum of that monthly income and distribute it to those needy family members. There is no need to give them lengthy lectures on how to catch a fish, because the gospel truth is that you have most likely been a beneficiary of black tax.

Yes, others have too sacrificed to pave your way. Remember how hard your elder brothers and sisters travailed just so that you could attend that extravagant college abroad? Well, they paid their dues and so must you, by returning the favour of at least paying for the tuition fees of your seven nieces and nephews, for they too need a good education like yours. Equally, do not forget your unemployed brothers who are still at home, waiting on God to open their doors. Save something for them too, or they will die of hunger and you will be blamed for their untimely demise. Thus, hurry up and come through with their quota, otherwise slow response on your part will be misconstrued as malicious, and deemed to be braggadocios.

Do not also forget about your unfortunate younger sister. You already know that she is a single mother of three, her life is in constant shambles, and therefore she needs your resources for her perpetuation. Please, do not ask about her baby fathers, for their identities are still unknown and irrelevant at this point. Instead, ask her to give you her monthly bills, so that you may help lift the self-inflicted burden off her, without any form of judgement. Just do your bid, pay your black tax and God will reward you openly, as the bible connotes.

Your rural cousins need help too. After your uncle died, they were left desolate and without a helping hand. All they need now is a bit of a do, in order to grow out of poverty. Remember how your benignant uncle took you and your cousins on a trip to the famous agricultural show in the big city, way back when? Family ties are rooted deep within your core, hence the need to lend a helping hand your poor cousins, in honour of your late uncle.

When last did you visit your sweet grandmother? The rooftop of her old kraal is worn out and in urgent need of repair. Also, that family home in the village home is also in dire need of a makeover, in order for it not to give way and fall apart. Therefore, you are required to quickly jump in and make the necessary repairs, now that you have a handsome income flow. All you need to do is send money to your parents, and they in turn will work out the financial logistics of it all.

Speaking of which, your folks too need your generous helping hand. Those communicable diseases you contracted made them sell all their farmlands in the village, so that you could survive your childhood. Your folks will not let you forget of how you drained their accounts and almost cost them their little fortune. So, be a trooper and ensure that you provide all their needs. Afterall, they are your parents, right?

So, forget about your worries and your strife for a long minute and think of all the hungry souls you need to feed. Also, ignore any long term relationship plans you have and put them in your back burner, for these marital prospects will only take away from the family resources that you bountifully provide, which your family has already been accustomed to. Besides, why should you think about relationships with burdens on your hands? The way I see it, you have about ten solid years on your black tax before you can engage in any serious connections outside your blessed family.

Hence, the question to you young black taxpayer is, do you neglect to build yourself up, while busy nurturing your entire clan and all its environs? As a matured and retired black tax payer, I will honestly tell you that as you get older, you will have less time, money, and energy to cater to yourself, like you should. What if no one comes through for you, when your turn to receive black tax approaches? Will your family members come through the same for you, as you did for them? Or will their response in your time of need be the sound of a thousand crickets and a whistle in the wind?

My advise to all you young black tax payers is that you are not obligated to paying black tax. Only give to your family because you want to and not because you have to. Therefore, let no one force you into paying black tax. Finally, as you pay your black tax, ensure to save some money for your future self, to avoid sliding into future poverty. Equally, as you give one dime, save the other dime for a rainy day. Let your left hand not know what your right hand gives or saves. Be wise.

 

 

 

WELCOME TO THE AFRICAN PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

 WELCOME TO THE AFRICA PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

First came the Arabs, then came the Caucasians and now the Asians are invading Africa like Covid-19, no pun intended. The present day Africa is the real black China, which is practically the black orient, whereby the ratio of Negros to Chinese is a hundred to one.

The Chinese are literally everywhere on the continent, from our governments, to our industries, our neighbourhoods, our homes, and even on our black screens, such that I believe that it is now almost impossible to rid them from our lives, no matter how hard we try.

How the Chinese have invaded my life! Decades ago, the first China man I ever recognized officially was the late Bruce Lee, in Enter the Dragon movie. Before you know it, Chinese movies were all the rage. Well, maybe there were some movies made in Japan or Korea but honestly I could not have told them apart, even if I tried to. As an African, it still is difficult to group Asians of the orient into their respective nationalities, no matter how hard I try.

Anyway, years later, the Asian cars were all the rage. The Toyotas, the Isuzu’s, and the Mistubishis. African roads were flooded with these car brands. Then came the product brands like Sanyo, Sany, Samsung, just to name a few. Then all their products followed suit. So, now all my home appliances are made from China. Then came the construction. All over sudden, the Chinese were everywhere, building our roads and constructing buildings. Then sushi became popular in all posh spots across the continent. Then came the wedding shows on television, where the Chinese were boldly wifing up African brides, while the Africans conquered the Chinese brides.

Give me some of that stuff, let me smoke it, for Africa is changing rapidly. Nowadays, I can hardly retrace my village, for the Chinese have built pagodas on top of my grandfather’s kraal. My cousins allowed for the development to take place, and now I am afraid to cry publicly over spilt milk that I did not pour. I cannot even pour libations upon the graves of my ancestors, because there are now great walls built upon their mud graves.

Maybe I should return the favour and travel to China to plant my African roots there. I guess if I could; I would persuade a few souls to journey with me to the orients, make the kimonos using the African print fabrics, open up a chain of restaurants that serve up afro-delicacies eaten by bare hands, while I play rhumba, zouk and Bongo music in my pubs and clubs all day long. I would as well learn Mandarin and Cantonese in order to translate all the African literature for the folk in China, digitalize every service product, because everything equates to technology in China.

As I claw my way into China, I would also spread my tentacles into her neighbours, imposing my way into every nation around her, spreading my afro-roots all over the orient like wildfire, while rocking my nappy locks with uttermost pride, and marching on with my soul tribe on toe, invading their empires, and turning that flaming dragon into the roaring lion of the great African jungle. Oh, how I wish!

Like I said, Arabs landed first in Africa, then the Europeans followed, and now the Chinese are here to stay, a phenomenon which begs the question, why do foreigners love the motherland so much? Well, I guess it is the African sun that attracts them to her or better yet, maybe they cannot get enough of the magnificent negritude that is our pride.

Perhaps, trade is their sole purpose of why they are stuck on the continent like glue. Whatever it is that drives them to this mama land, we already know that once you go black, there is no coming back. Hence, I solely predict that in the next decade, this continent will have a populace that is Afro-China!