Fende – Andries Phukuntsi

The first project is a Setswana short story collection, titled: Bontlhanngwe Jwa Pelo. It is published by Vivlia Publishers and Booksellers and they can be found at the following web page: http://www.publishsa.co.za/members-and-freelancers/members/publishers/profile/153.

The second project is a short play titled: Love Secondary and it is part of a collection titled: Short, Sharp and Snappy, launching on the 1st of December. The collection is published by Junkets publishers and they can be found on the following website: http://junketspublisher.blogspot.com/.

I am currently trying to get more material published. I am also involved with Mine Mind, an initiative by students at the TUT residence (Legae) to try and unearth raw talent in art and literature, although we are still in our infancy stage, but we have a long term vision of expanding out of the residence into the heart of the city. We have a facebook page: Mine Mind, Only the legends.

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Silently contempplating the scurrying intelligence of his ambience

Titivating beauties, and masochist tenderness charming elegance

Remnants of illusions unfulfilled offering no condolence

Attestation to a broken hope gazing through my eyes

Never again, the heart says, shall I maintain affectionate strings

Gingerly smiling to mask the mental chaos of burning fire

End of the road – love is extinct, common sense sings

Realising that in his quest for love, he only found desire

 

In the mist of the scurrying livelihood, he saw beauty advance

Nymph, seductress, giving the cynical sense arguement fort

Looking into the eyes of the stranger, he found his balance

On her embracing gaze, he found sedative warmth and comfort

Valiant smile, elegant blink, sedated his mental tension

End of the road, for in her first word, fire and affection

– End –

 

Poem – The Board Game (incomplete)

All the world’s a stage

So did an English man say

Then we’re all actors

Those at the top are the puppeteers

Playing God? Or aspiring to be gods?

Then the gods must be sleepy

Our lives pawns in a chess game

Kings and queens hiding behind castles

While these bishops indifferent to the needs

Of hapless pawns destined for slaughter

So every step is a gamble

Every breath is a race,

A scramble for survival

Believe, from the horse’s mouth?

Life’s a gift? I look into its mouth

And I don’t like the gift horse

For all I see is lies, and all I hear is illusions

You are devoured by these hungry horses

Whether you land on black or white

So its not about colour anymore

It’s all in class…where you come from?

Who you know?

You know who I am?

You know what I can do?

If the world’s a stage, then this is all a bad script

The world’s a game board

Life’s a game of chess

To all the victors go the spoils

And so it happens thus

That to all the spoilers

Goes victory

– End –

 

Poem – Lemphorwana la Aforika

Ngwana wa mmala wa sebilo se lele

Gonne o mmamoratwa wa thari e e ntsho

Itshoke, pelo ya gago e se fele

Gonne o bokamoso jwa setšhaba mmaetsho

Ba tla go tsosetsa moferefere morwadia’Aforika

Ba go tseele bokgarebe ka bogale rraago a sa itse

Giza go fitlha Kapa ba tla go tlhotlhora diphuka

E re o sa fofe kwa Biafra ba go ratele jaaka dikatse

Ba go neele ngwana o sa le tsuanyana

Ngwana o ba fetsang ba mo itatola

Ba tla go tubula jaaka ngwana wa seganana

Selelo se utlwale Tshwane ntswa o obamela molao

Gomotsega gonne se se sa feleng se a tlhola

Tshuane e sa sweng e leta monono e seng tlala

– End –

 

Poem – Not EternalGold shall forever sparkle tears

Tempests forever swirl them fears

While the mountains be that shelter deers

And diamond be that never wears

 

But you and I are sand in winds

We come into being to pass

And true the sun’ll shine in gleams

We shant be breathing to fuss

 

And thus love I while I am still

Say love while the mouth can speak

Let hands touch while they can feel

And laugh while the tongue tests sweet

 

For when those stars hang in yon’ sky

Today and still be tomorrow, you and I

We may and will be hollow to a fly

Prophecies of death have been no lie

 

Say my love while I am still

And kiss my mouth while it can speak

Caress my skin while it can feel

Taste my tongue while I am sweet

 

These stars that know no sorrow

Will shine bright there when you cry

When this love rises to those skies

I might be there not tomorrow

– End –

 

Short story – The Reluctanct Bridegroom (an excerpt)

Our eager faces did not blink for a second when the game passed its hour mark. Malom’Kabelo’s moroseness was written all over his sagging face as his team was trailing by a goal. Malom’ Thabo’s vat en sit wife prompted Malom’Kabelo’s retracted fangs when she abruptly stood and went briskly past us. She had been as quick as she could, but it was not good enough for Malom’ Kabelo – she was too slow to his standards.

“Haai man,” Malom’ Kabelo cried furiously, “Don’t you see that we are watching T.V?! This is not Marabastad, so stop your in-and-outs and ups-and-downs.”

“Kabelo, get your own wife and leave ours alone,” Malom’ Thabo jeered, “At any rate, you don’t need to be a fortuneteller to see that you are going to lose.”

“Who?!” Malom’ Kabelo cried in frenzy, “If Chiefs win I am going to get myself a wife within a year. And I am not talking a vat en sit wife like yours; I am talking real marriage. I bet two thousand rands on that.”

Malom’ Thabo had nothing to lose. He knew that Malom’ Kabelo would rather hang on a rope by the neck than put up with one woman for the rest of his life; also, Pirates’ prospect did not look bright as some of their top players had injuries. He took the bet with no hesitation. Malom’ Kabelo took his soccer too serious, and he hated Kaizer Chiefs with so much passion he would rather lose a fist fight than Orlando Pirates lose any soccer match to Chiefs, despite the magnitude of the match. If that ever occurred, he would slump into a dark and deep abyss of moroseness. He took his soccer so serious that one of his favourite girlfriends had suffered a red card when his team was knocked out of cup play-offs. That insane devotion had landed him into trouble many times, and it did not fail to do so on this particular day because he lost his bet to Malom’ Thabo. He grabbed the last bottle of beer and stomped his way out of the door in untamed fury. Malom’ Siphiwe followed him, partly because of the loss, but mostly because of the beer.

– End –

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