Awê Ma Se Kinnes!
On Saturday, I sprinted to the lounge to catch the start of the rugby game. Yes, sprinted. Because I simply could not miss out on seeing Belinda Davids sing the national anthem. Whilst in other households at that time the prayer may have been “please let the Boys be focused and play a brilliant game”, the prayer in my household at that time was “please may Belinda look smashing and may she hit every ridiculous note flawlessly”. Happy to report that both Belinda and the Boys delivered.
I must say, I was quite surprised by my interest in sport over the last few days. Or maybe I should not be that surprised – how can you not be moved by the drama of Olympic medals, coupled with the victorious Bokke!
And that sort of captures the kinda sports fan I am. I don’t really have a clue as to who’s who, or who broke what world record. I just sometimes know that, occasionally in the world of sport, there are certain things I have to pay attention to.
Growing up, the big sporty thing for many of us was Wimbledon. In fact, we took to the road to play ‘wimbledon-wimbledon”. The tennis court was mapped out with sand in the road. We became McEnroe, Navratilova, Chris Evert Lloyd, Andre Agassi and Boris Becker. We played until we fought. We fought until we cried. The game would come to an abrupt end when whoever owned the tennis bats would stomp off home in tears, bats and all. To return the next morning best of friends.
Prior to Saturday, twitterati kept reminding me to also focus my attention on the Olympic Swimming Pool. There were murmurs that South African medals were going to be flaunted. And sure as hell there they were. By Friday midday we all knew the name Tatjana Schoenmaker. Even I – the one who can’t tell a breaststroke from a box kick – posted a little something about our first gold medal winner this year.
Swimming for me is much like singing. Wait, let me explain. When I sing in the shower I firmly believe that I am Whitney Houston. And when I swim, I firmly believe that my technique resembles that of Ryk Neethling. I will tell you that I have never been offered a recording contract. I will also tell you that when I “dive in”, friends sitting around the pool just frown momentarily and wander off to the braai area. But I can’t be bothered by the perceptions of others. That is not how you move ahead in life!
Fun fact: I sometimes wish I were sporty. Not as in Wayde Van Niekerk sporty, but as in socially sporty. (One of my many shortcomings I guess). You know those socially sporty guys. Great with their partner. Great with their kids. Great at their Job. And then great at soccer, swimming, rugby, volleyball and badminton. Yes, badminton. No limits to the skills of these supernatural beings. I usually stare at those guys and think: ja but can you write a joke ?!?
To this day still, I cringe when the cricket bat suddenly appears at the braai. How do you even pack that in alongside the potato salad! And now the pressure is on me to stay as far away from that damn ball as possible. It’s like being at Square Hill Primary in Retreat all over again. Little gay Marc purposefully running in the opposite direction of the rugby ball. But that’s a story for another therapy session.
I wish you an award-winning week. Give yourself a medal for fabulously navigating your way through life in spite of any perceived “shortcoming”.
AWÊ MA SE KINNES
I really should not be surprised. Of course it had to come to this. There are now two camps in the family whatsapp group: those who will take the vaccine, and those who won’t.
I have absolutely no idea why I didn’t see this coming. Silly me thought everyone who had matric with exemption would jump for the jab. Verkere Bus Meneer Lottering! (Wrong Bus, Mister Lottering!) Even family members who speak really well have shocked me with a “TOTALLY NOT TAKING IT!”. Thankfully some of these bravehearts are debating the issue with more than just “NO! ONE OF MY FOLLOWERS ON FACEBOOK SAID THAT HE HEARD THAT THE JAB WILL KILL YOU”.
A few days ago I saw clips of a big group of unmasked people with placards walking on Sea Point Promenade chanting MY BODY, MY CHOICE. For me, it was hectic to watch. They looked like normal people with good jobs and houses and stuff. And yet…there they were.
And yoh, people are ready for a debate hey. I’m the worst person when it comes to having to have a debate. I just like to believe in what I believe and I find that life is way too short for me to have to explain to you why I believe what I do. My whole spirit just breaks into a heavy sigh when I realize that I may have to explain my thought process to a total stranger. And so, often in a company, I could actually come across as not being too bright. I’m sometimes even aware of the fact that some people, on first meeting me in a social setting may be thinking: shoo he’s shockingly dull. But that’s fine. ‘Cos usually when I speak my mind, I get paid. So ja J
These past 2 days have reminded me of a principle which I have adhered to for most of adult life: sometimes a person must know when to hou your bek – you have to know when to bite your tongue. I’m not going to publicly battle with anti-vaxxers.
My decision has been to go with what my trusted GP tells me to do. And if in a few years down the line, I suddenly grow a penis out of the middle of my back, well…more of me to love.
I raise a level-3 glass to all of us. Best of Luck with whatever you decide.
Awê Ma se kinnes!
It’s been a few days of constantly having to decide which whatsapp vids are fake, and which are not.
And once again I was reminded that there will always be that one doos who cannot wait to share sensational news without bothering to verify its’ authenticity beforehand. It’s a case of “let me quickly post this in the whatsapp group before anyone else does – in case it’s true”.
I mean, Yirre Bronwyn. – you couldn’t use google to establish whether someone really looted a whole shark?!
We saw looting in SA like we have never seen before. And some clips went viral before you could say “get a bigger getaway car”. I’m now referring to that chap who looted a TV that was too big for his car. He’s notorious now. Or Famous. Depending on which way you swing.
I didn’t catch his name. Let’s call him Jakes. Because Jakes sounds like a name belonging to someone who’s very hands-on.
I wonder if Jakes is sitting at home right now, watching TV. I wonder how his morning started – on that day. I imagine that he woke up and had to google which malls had a heavy police presence. Because that’s where he didn’t go. I imagine that it was his wife’s birthday on that day, and that he wanted to surprise her with something special.
Let me take my silly mind to that morning. Jakes quickly kisses his wife Joy and tells her he’ll see her in a bit. Off he goes. Drives to the designated mall. All parking bays are taken. Dammit. Jakes parks in the road. Puts hazards on. Because he’s law-abiding like that. Finds the right store. Spots the perfect TV. Fortunately no queues at the till on that day. Firmly gripping the huge TV in its box, Jakes rushes through the mall, to the car. (He is silently grateful that there’s no fish oil on the mall floor. That was mos a Shoprite trick).
He gets to the car. Shit. TV won’t fit into the car. Opens boot. Shit again. Boot full from earlier loot. It’s been a good morning. Clears boot. Shoves TV into boot and strings a miracle together.
Gets home. Humongous TV on shoulder. Shouts “honey I’m home! I have a surprise for you!” Joy responds from the bedroom where she’s packing a suitcase. “I know you have a TV Jakes. Everyone knows you have a friggin TV. You’ve been on the news all day. Along with my car. And my number plate. We need to move. This is a shit birthday”.
If it’s your birthday today, I hope you’re having a better one than Joy.
Stay safe x
Awê ma se kinnes! – 12 July 2021
The best memes usually land on my phone when crazy things are happening in the country. One I saw yesterday went along the lines of DUE TO COVID 19 WE ARE ASKING LOOTERS TO WORK FROM HOME AND DESTROY THEIR OWN PROPERTY. Hope all the members of team zuma took that one to heart.
Last night we had another Family Meeting. The President has asked us to NOT consume those happy grapes for 2 more weeks. I have to say that I’m actually OK with that. These days it seems that I’m loving alcohol a lot less than I used to. And it absolutely has everything to do with that dreaded hangover that seems to carry on for 9 years! OK, for 1 day – but still. That’s 1 day too many for me. I’ve already worked it out: the hangover usually stops at around 20h40. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I have way too much to do. Having said that, there are certain people who just cannot be tolerated completely sober. By that, I mean I cannot deal with them unless I have a glass in my hand. They have shockingly outrageous opinions. Those are the people who have been sent into our lives to test us. They dwell amongst us like normal people but they are flippin hard work. I fully blame them for my occasional lapses in judgment.
But thank heavens there are many people in our lives who we can handle without the assistance of a whiskey. One such friend is Jonathan Rubain. He hosts a TV show on kyknet called KOORTJIES. “Koortjies” is an Afrikaans term we grew up with in the Pentecostal Church. It refers to uplifting spiritual songs we used to sing and dance to in Church. Yes, we danced in our church. In a circle. Sometimes around the outside of the building. We would have gone viral on social media. But wait, I digress.
I got to be a guest on Jonathan’s show over the weekend. The episode is still to be aired. I’ll do a social media post before
they air the ep. I loved being on the show. It took me right back to my growing up years in the church in Tafelsig, Mitchells Plain. My late Dad was the Pastor of the Church. The business of where we come from will always fascinate me. I believe that it forms an integral part of your life, for the rest of your life, regardless as to where you may find yourself. We spoke about this on Jonathan’s show. I mentioned that one night I was part of a comedy line-up show at Emperors Palace in Joburg. After the gig, Trevor Noah told me that I had the stage persona of an Evangelist. I had never been aware of that until that moment. I move around onstage exactly the way in which my Dad moved around in front of the pulpit.
I’m not sure whether Trevor knew that my Dad was a Preacher man but for the purposes of this story I’m going to assume that he didn’t. It’s much more mesmerizing that way.
Being on KOORTJIES once again reminded me that aspects of my upbringing still travel with me on my journey today.
Channel the Childhood stuff positively.
Shoo. Marc Oprah Lottering.
Have a Lekka Week x
It was an interesting time leading up to yesterday’s Jab. The first big story to circulate was: “go to Lentegeur psychiatric hospital for your jab – you don’t need an appointment – and they are sooo well organized!”
The result was loads of people quite swiftly finding their way to Mitchells Plain! Who knew that folk from the Atlantic Sea Board knew how to drive to Lentegeur ? A Vaccine is a powerful thing.
The sms landed on my phone last week. Telling me that I was officially registered to get my jab. Even just that little message made me pee a little with excitement! So you can just imagine what went down when the sms arrived with my appointment date and location. Unprintable.
I had never been to Somerset Hospital before. Drove through the gates which opened remotely. Great parking bay right in front of the doors. I was super impressed so far. Went to my deurmekaar boot and threw on a sexy T-shirt because I mos knew that selfies were going to happen. For the gram, baby, for the gram !
A doctor strolled down the corridor, looked into my masked-up face, and said “we are only doing 50 year olds and over.” I blushed and focused on my marriage.
I could not have been in that queue for longer than 45 minutes. There seriously was a really special beautiful spirit in the air. Of course I struck up a conversation with the friendly gentleman behind me who’s been seeing his girlfriend for 11 years, now engaged for 3 years, and may get married next year. Ja.
Chairs were continuously being sanitized. Of course there were rebels who arrived with no confirmation sms. These were promptly put in another line. The rest of us took great pride in looking at the rebels with warm judgement. Judgement that said THIS ISN’T LENTEGEUR!
My phone devastatingly died just before it was my chance to get the needle. But friendly Randall who works at the hospital shouted I GOT YOU LOTTERING IT’S FINE! (He sent through 49 pics last night. Yirre Randall.)
I didn’t look at the needle, but it really was painless. Much more bearable than my 3 covid tests up the nose and down the throat! (Ja that throat thing happened in Botswana. A lovely country nonetheless).
All went swimmingly. The only issue was when I got back to my car. The security guard asked me why I was there. I said: “the jab mos”. He responded: “this is a private parking area for doctors – you were meant to go around the back – with normal public”.
I have zero idea why those remote controlled gates rolled wide open for me. But we are not here to question the Creator.
Awê ma se kinnes!
Hello Level 4.
This one has hit me much harder than the others. Having said that, I’ve always been somewhat of a late bloomer. (Told my first joke at 30). But really, yesterday’s family meeting just left me feeling somewhere inbetween “I’m at peace” and “wtf”. I’ve just been out to buy toilet paper and anti-ageing cream – essentials mos – and my comic heart sank when I saw empty coffee shops and restaurants. People’s lives have been truly screwed, with no lube.
It’s in my nature to not linger in a dark corner for too long. Which is a good thing when you consider what I do for a living. So I will more than likely come into the light now-now. I’ll look for the positives. Because I’m told they’re always there. Let’s see: no crazy traffic with shockingly idiotic drivers who catch up on whatsaap messages while changing lanes; no having to see people who you were never ever in the mood to see even outside of a pandemic; no more standing at a full bar where the barman can see everyone friggin else except you!
I lie. I miss all of those things. That’s how horrible this pandemic is. Delta se ma se pa.
Hang in there.
We were meant to make a special announcement last week, which has been postponed to this week. I’m not lying I swear. Nice news coming on Friday. Kasam.