a Two day old leftover from Michiel's Krismis celebration accompanied our chicken pot and conversation that evening... Now I do not know a lot but what I do know is that a two day leftover accompanying a chicken pot devastates the intestines but, that is not important right now.
Definitely a bit later, but not right now, as for a second time I was forced to take out my imaginary pipe as Michiel quipped 'I quip, I had the funniest thought (not the funny haha type but, the other type of funny) the other day during Krismis dinner while everybody reminisced about the worst drought to have hit Jagersfontein in the past 100 years as we looked over the dusty Freestate plains en die brandmaer skape.'
'Some of the family blamed it (the drought not the dusty plains and brandmaer skape) on Monsanto while others blamed it on the ANC but my uncle blamed it on our sins (probably the devils doing) and the punishment meted out by a very vengeful God that is somehow so preoccupied with the wrongs that mere mortals commit that all manner of living things that is directly involved with these mortals are also punished indirectly... Poor brandmaer skaap'.
'Seems funny' Michiel quipped.
The next morning was when the previous nights chicken pot, with leftover, became very important as I was woken from my deep slumber by the most almighty of bowel disintegrations. Now as a kid I learnt that whistling and pulling the blanket over your head is very good at keeping ghosts, tokoloshes and all manner of ghouls away. I know it works, for as far as I can remember, I have not been disturbed by one single spook as a *youf
So I started whistling, as sitting on the throne with a blanket over one's head would have looked rather very silly indeed had someone seen me, to keep my nightmarishly pre-occupied sphincter at bay as I walked in *Donald Duck like fashion to do my *number 2 and a half.. Luckily the whistling helped to keep the ghoul at bay until I just about made it to the crapper.
So still whistling (for more enlightened reasons than keeping ogres at bay) we packed all of our meagre equipment, including sleeping bags and blow-up matresses, and set out in the general direction of Lesotho and Maseru, our port of entry.
First we had to do a Bloemfontein flyby as I have been very legitimately riding with no number plate for the past three years and the pepols running the permit system at the 'siels tystering' called bodda posts probably required me to have one.
So still whistling, this time to keep us safe from the ghouls running passport control, we pulled into the South African side of this nightmarish place and proceeded to have our faces looked at and stamped. I must say the whistling probably helped as we dispatched with both sides in less than 15minutes. Try doing a level of ghoul dispatching while video gaming in twice that amount of time. I bet you won't.
*youf - like the unemployed 40 year old cadres running the ANC Youf league.
*Donald Duck - walking from the knees downward without using your hips.
*number 2 and a half. - spuitpoep or pissing through the anus.
*pepols - the general South African i.e. Joe Public that generally feels entitled.
