Aje...

I’m confused…since when was chillin' a crime?

Sorry, I get ahead of myself. Hello people!

As any who know me will tell you, I stand opposed to any form of discrimination or prejudice. I think that it is beyond stupid to be tribalistic, racist or to discriminate any person because of his religious or sexual choices.

But none of these irk me as much as the one that has lived among us as long as I can remember. It has contributed largely to the lack of intelligence in this country. And the trip is that there is no word for it. So I have decided to name it! (I am of course open to suggestions should you have a better name)

I shall call it…AJEBUTTERISM. These ajebutterists would have you believe that anyone who had a semblance of a peaceful childhood, some privileges and a proper command of the English language, should be ashamed of themselves!?!

I’m not saying people don’t have it rough or that those that do should hide in shame, but seriously? I missed the memo that said being raised in a gutter was something to be glorified. I also missed the one that said that being crass, uncouth and generally loutish were things to aspire to.

Tuface sang a line that went something like: “just because say I no finish school, some people want to take me for a fool”. And you hear the idiots take up the chorus. Here’s the difference; Tuface didn’t finish school, granted. But he had recognizable, God given talent that he had honed over many years and a plan for exactly how to utilize it.

Allow me to school you on some stuff. It’s simple really. Butters and Kpakos listen close o (even though I doubt there are any Kpakos here…they’re allergic to the written word)!

         i.          1.   Every Kpako is a hustler (or uzzla).

       ii.          2.   A hustler’s (uzzla) dream is to make plenty money.

      iii.          3.   Plenty money so he and his family can live in the lap of luxury.

     iv.           4.  This lifestyle is the very same offence the ajebutter purportedly committed early in his life.

       v.           5.  If what the ajebutter had at the beginning of his life is what the Kpako aspires to possess at the end of his, then the ajebutter is what the Kpako wants to be when he grows up.

     vi.           6.  That is to say; the Ajebutter is the Kpako’s life ambition and as such deserves respect from the Kpako!

QED!

Please don’t get me wrong, I have nothing but respect for anyone looking to better his lot. And even more so for those who actually succeed at it.

I just have an issue with people who would make others feel crappy for being born into a certain level of affluence.

Sure, it doesn’t seem fair that they got all that without having to do any work save pop out of their mother’s wombs.

But since when was shit fair on this blue marble we call Earth?

DANCE, DANCE, DANCE

I dance. Do I dance well? I have no bleeding idea! Do I care? My answer is always “NO”! Not because I actually don’t but because I’m not sure if I’d appreciate your answers.

I find it to be therapeutic for going through the sheer fuckery that is everyday life. The biggest problem is fear. Fear of looking foolish, fear of tripping on my own laces, fear of poking her in the eyes, fear of getting knocked out by my dance partners boyfriend, fear of accidentally touching her boobs and getting smacked, fear of spilling someone’s drink, fear of my partner feeling my erm... tumescence as she grinds against me in obedience to the exhortations of Sean Paul.

Fear causes my mind to race and my muscles to tighten. What follows has caused observers to wince and look away or at other times made them to gather round in admiration and cheer. Other times I’m asked to leave.

So what do I like about dancing? It teaches me that I cannot suppress the fear, nor think my way out of it. I may have control over my body but i cannot control how its movements will be perceived by others. My only option is to live in the moment and get to sporadic spasming. This is a lesson that I have tried to apply to my life at large.

Every day I make a conscious effort to gracefully accept my fears. - My fear of being judged as inadequate, my fear of letting down people who count on me, my fear that I have nothing to bloody write about, my fear that no one will read my stuff because they'd rather watch mediocre celebrities frolic around some silly house with cameras all over the place, my fear regarding the welfare of my parents, my fear that my sister will never talk to me again, my fear that I will die alone, my fear that the scar on my arm is going to mutate into a cancer, my fear of impending National crisis, cockroaches, random violence and dirty bombs -- and work anyway.

 The result has been astonishing. I believe my work is better than ever. I have also tried to apply this lesson about fear to my dealings with women and other awkward personal relationship. That hasn’t worked out as well.

I think I need to keep dancing and keep my head up.