The Second Man: An autobiography concerning a sense of belonging – 1
I arrived back in South Africa in October 2008. My mother died that year and a three-year relationship had just ended. While I was on holiday in South Africa in January I had walked into my mother’s bedroom to find her dead. We carried her out of the house. I did some form of CPR but it was hopeless. I went to see her body … Continue reading The Second Man: An autobiography concerning a sense of belonging – 1
Concerning: The Rise of the Private Art Museum in Cape Town
In 2015 I wrote an open letter to Mark Coetzee, the now ex-director of the newly opened Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (Zeitz MOCAA) at the Waterfront in Cape Town. Coetzee, who resigned from his position on 16 May 2018 after trustees initiated an inquiry into his professional conduct, did not respond to the letter nor to subsequent attempts to clarify his and his institution’s position. The circumstances surrounding his resignation are yet to be fully uncovered, but at the root of it is perhaps the culture of unaccountability that he fermented. Continue reading “Concerning: The Rise of the Private Art Museum in Cape Town”
The Palestinian flag is fluttering outside my window
The Palestinian flag is fluttering outside my window. It is not my flag. I do not have a flag. I mean, personally, I do not own one. My mother had an American flag. She lived in America and she told me that a man had once climbed up a flagpole and had taken the flag off it and given it to her as a present. This … Continue reading The Palestinian flag is fluttering outside my window
The Story of Matthew
Matthew had been playing in the swimming pool with Matthew. His white skin was burnt red. Matthew had forgotten to put sun cream on that day and his shoulders and the backs of his knees were so painful that he begged both his fathers to put camomile lotion on him as he lay on the couch watching cricket highlights and stroking Timmy the dog. The … Continue reading The Story of Matthew
The Smell of Beef-Goulash
I have not washed for 26 hours. I just catch it every now and then as I sit, shirt off underwear on, and my immediate thought is: someone in the building is eating goulash. I wonder why they would be eating a goulash in 34-degree heat at 10 in the morning. Then I realise that it is me that is producing this smell and I … Continue reading The Smell of Beef-Goulash
Flash Fiction – Finally, the Circus Left
First, it was the lion and the ringmaster. Then the bear, having no further duties, nor a reason to keep it there. Then a seal, with a ball balanced on its nose. Finally, the last remaining mouse slammed its bag shut with a snap and then, pulling its hat more firmly on its head and with a noise of discontent, it walked out, away from me, … Continue reading Flash Fiction – Finally, the Circus Left
Where I stand 28/07/2017
I very rarely find a reason to write about politics these days. The absurdity of it all makes it too difficult to write seriously about it. But one point that I think is missing in the current discussions about Andile Mngxitama and his BLF Goonpta movement is the fact that the press, in particular the Mail & Guardian, initially promoted his ‘radical’ thuggery by publishing his … Continue reading Where I stand 28/07/2017
