Dear Parole Officer

Thank you for adding a much needed spark to a drawn-out Oscar Trial. Although I have not been a keen follower, I happened to be listening on the day you were recommending a non-custodial sentencing along with a fine as an “appropriate” sentence. I have no idea why I was doing this. But accidents do happen. Oscar has taught us this.

As you were stating your reasons in court, you also used the opportunity to bash our Correctional Services facilities. It was such a revved up performance by you I rocked into full wakefulness!

If it was not by the grace of brakes, I’d have stepped on the accelerator and my rickety jalopee (a hand-me-down VW Beetle) would have ploughed into the schoolchildren who were crossing the road from school, thus facing the inevitability of employing the services of Advocate Barry Roux, and possibly yours at a later stage. But here I am, relieved that I will not be mixing with JubJub and Oscar any time soon. But Oscar is safe, isn’t he?

I wish to pledge my solidarity with you. Oscar must not go to jail. I agree with you when you say that those facilities are beneath him.

I know that many people misunderstood you because Oscar is, you know, conveniently disabled. The argument that he’s been out-running many able-bodied athletes for years already and therefore he can hold his own alongside tattooed, ready-to-take-the-edge off outlaws in orange overalls does not stick.

We must not subject Oscar to below-par correctional facilities. You are correct when you imply that we must keep Oscar safe, and beg him not to tamper with guns anymore; that we must orientate him to not hop into his fatal rage which culminates into him releasing (four) bullets whenever something he cannot ascertain makes him to panic.

The officials of the said government department must wake up and build prisons fit for the likes of Oscar and many like him who, as precedence, will soon be evading jail time by the “skin” of their blades! But no, that sounds like contradiction of your argument; they must just carry on mismanaging them to sustain your argument.

It is my hope that, in show of support to the State’s stance on the case, the Department of Correctional Services and of Public Works will not suddenly work out a revamp budget to spruce up one of the facilities to make them livable for Oscar. I agree; that will be racist on all fronts!

You are saying that if our prisons were 5-star facilities you’d be happy to accompany Oscar tonight. How nice.

The offenders who are already serving time must learn to use lawyers who are smart enough to employ the services of privately run parole organisation to save them from “blading” behind bars.

Enjoy the money you’ve earned from Barry Roux team.

Yours

Honourable Health Minister, rope in the believers

Dear Minister Aaron Motsoaledi

I have just learned that a South African medical team has returned from a mission in West Africa where they went to help deal with the Ebola tragedy.

I am not sure why they have already returned, given that Ebola is still wreaking havoc and leaving destruction in its wake.

Is it possible for you to send several of our faith Pastors over there to give a hand? No pun intended.

I know that this might be a tough ask but, chances are that some of our Pastors, including those in the rest of Africa, are willing to go.

Let us do what we can to stop this tragedy.

Yours

Attending church in this age of miracles

One of my brothers, who is very outspoken about his plans to meet and date a church-going girl, revealed to me this week that he will be attending church service at Rabboni this weekend.

I was rather concerned about that, considering that some of the congregants over there have miraculously added new items to the food family of late.

As a result of his revelation by him, I have been toying with the possible changes we'd be witnessing after Sunday. And all I can see with my imaginary eye is lawnmowers being made redundant; garden flowers disappearing and car petrol going missing inside tanks.

So I had been wrecking my brains trying to come up with a rather smart plan to discourage him from... not from attending church per-se but... but from "going all the way" once Pastor You-know-who and his ilk start doing their "thing."

It is Friday. He told me about his Sunday plans on Monday. I still haven't figured out the plan. Then something more miraculous than we've seen happening at Rabboni happened.

A fellow with very advanced abilities to fore-see the future wherein Rabboni Church is doling out food menus with unprecedented efficiency and precision posted something on facebook. It is exactly what I have been hoping to come up with to reverse, if not to manage, my brother's since-that-Sunday business. I swear this is what I am going to point out to my brother on Saturday evening as he prepares his Sunday's best.

Dumisane Welcome Mahlangu posted this:

'It's hard to date a Christian girl these days. Imagine taking her on a picnic and she eats the grass. You buy her flowers and she eats them. Suddenly you can't drive back home because she drank your petrol. Haai kubi bazalwane'

Confessing beautiful problems

I am here to make a shocking confession.

I have a serious problem. This problem started a long time ago. But I will not bore you with the detail. What I want to say right now is that this M-LP is destroying me.

I was going through my “things” yesterday. I was pleasantly shocked to discover that my problem has not gone away.

It had been over a year since I’d last seen them. About two times in my life I have been made aware of how silly and attention-seeking I am. Even Ausi Mmatshilo Motsei slammed me with this truth on facebook when, on two occasions, she told me to stop whining about losing my CD copy of Afrocentric (Jimmy Dludlu). ‘Get yourself a new copy, Fusi,’ she said.

A certain sleek, progressive and funny man by the name of Abuti Nymbeleni Tshindane told me to get a life. He didn’t quite put it that way. He said that I must get myself an iPod and all my problems about CDs that go missing will be a problem of the past.

I still don’t have the iPod, which means that my problems are still with me. I guess I love my problem. So I am here to confess exactly that.

And to say that I jumped with joy yesterday when I opened a box to find the CDs which I thought I had lost over 2 years ago. You will not believe this. I found Jimmy Dludlu in there. There was Sakhile. There was Paul Hanmer, Wessel van Rensburg (that track called “song for E”, Laaawd help me) and Oliver Mtukudzi. There is “motseredende” in that album; imagine how serious this problem I am having is.

To reunite with my long-lost darlings, I decided to play ‘Tales from the South’ by Themba Mkhize. No, wait! You are younger than 30, or you are older enough but you think Jonas Gwangwa and Judith Sephuma are the only greats in the land, do not judge me as yet. Instead, hang around for a brief intro to what you’ve been sorely missing...

I said I have re-united with Tales from the South today. Ngwaneso, it was “Ngaliwe” (first track) which rocked me through a morning of peace. Yet I knew that track number 9, “Inner peace,” in which Sibongile Khumalo lets her voice glide over Themba’s hypnotic keyboard and Vusi Khumalo’s drums like a butterfly sampling breath-taking flowers, was in the offing. But I am a person who is mostly in no rush, as you are about to see.

But getting past songs like “Ilanga” in which Kelly Petlane’s flute and Fana Zulu’s bass make me want to drive to Cape Town at a speed of 60, for no apparent reason, was to be an entertaining problem indeed. Not to mention “Ikhwezi”. Ngwaneso, Bra Hugh Masekela is involved there. He is there to blow me away with his flugen horn, while Themba Mkhize’s keyboards take the magical back seat typical of his (I think) shy demeanour.

Next on the list for the entire day is Afrocentric by Jimmy Dludlu. Oh, the excitement I am in right now. God I love my Music-Loving Problem! To think that Themba Mkhize is still waiting to offer me his brilliance through ‘Lost and Found’ (which I think rings true of my M-LP) and ‘Hands On.’ That song which makes you weep non-stop when you think of our past is there – “shosholoza.”

But I will have to get past that beautiful “east meets south” number before I greet Jimmy Dludlu, whose “inyoni iyaphapha” reminds me of my lone and long travel to Venda, not to mention “river of dreams” which frees a poetic Duma ka Ndlovu to tell us what a genius Moses Taiwa Molelekwa was.

I am enjoying my music-loving problem. I hope that you are not shocked.