Oh shit! Not again....

It was never clear, it wasn't something that tugged at me, safe to say it hadn't crossed my mind. When first i met him; i was in my element on my gin n juice mess on a Sunday afternoon, he was in his element elevated in the clouds high with the birds, chirping and serenading me from that distant. There is something about his voice, something that makes it certain without a doubt that there has to be a beautiful soul in there that produces such exacting sound. 2010 – The best description that i have ever had was 1 of that day – cross between John Legend and Andre 3000. Still I stick to it – and so much more. You would have thought the connection would be pulling us from the head, comparing and connecting through a hair style that linked strangers, religions and caused conflict. This hushed man, who opened his mouth to push exuberance from the pit his spirit resides. Still, even in his strides. Tranquillity danced in his eyes. This still does not quite describe the splendour of this man. Twice I saw him again within a year. But this did not stop me from describing and commending his voice every chance I got on a – you don’t know sh*t tip. Twice I saw, twice he triggered a zeal in me that I didn’t understand – chalked it off as a common love for music and appreciation of his voice, played it of a groupie behaviour! HA! Twice he prompted this sudden bout of animation in me. Twice our paths crossed. Twice we didn’t question it. He often now tells me that his burst into song was all to impress me, entice me. He didn’t talk to me much that night. We never really talked much. This still does not touch on how astounding this unearthing was. So there i am right, minding my own fucking business, on some of that red vine juice i used to love so. With a friend who’s memory is of a bittersweet nature as I write this. Pointless as that sentence may seem – there was nothing normal or ordinary about that day. Everyone with the pleasure of witnessing the start of 1 of the greatest loves is fortunate and significant in their own respect. ‘Hey G’... is all i heard lifting my head from my laptop. The quick shift between wonderment, relief and enlivenment was more potent than the bottles i had put away. This fine piece of sexy ass – smile that could break the coldest of hearts, see i didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t see him that way, i saw a colleague, i saw a fellow artist, i saw a music lover, in all honesty for the longest time he was just a voice. HA! But lately this voice be looking fine sacrificially detached from the locks that i am sure identified him for the longest of times. A strong and sexier forfeit – i can relate. So we at the round table in our intoxicated states thinking we can be talking about business. Sitting opposite him, thinking of how amazing this voice is, picturing BWPs circling his head – this had always been our association. Understand, I was enlisted in their belief to be in the process to thrive. As much as my culture did not match his genre, the power in his lungs was prized. ;) All i remember is him looking at me, he had this way of looking at me, curious and penetrating. Searching and fiery. It made my heart beat fast, confused on whether or not it was nervousness or excitement. Understand this recognition of what one would not be wrong if they called it gawking was not instantaneously, it was beckoned by four words – Nna ke batla wena! This still does not elucidate the effect these words would have on me, how these words were the start of connection, rapport if you like of the most amazing combination of two alike, contrasting, complimenting souls. Gino Obuseng

Part I: Three Hundred and Sixty Fifth Day

Its surreal, i guess it is like the significant life’s impact or the moments that continue to search and define your strengths character. Its undeniable, I push, push things to the limit. Any limit, my limit, your limit – a limit. On the three hundred and sixty fifth day – a grand celebration of an anti-love that we had held on for more than we had to, the festivities were endless. With the closest of my friends and a job that came from a dream. Smiling and waving intoxicated separation, instance crawling towards the basic hours of the morning. Memory serves and admittedly i knew. The only way i would learn, lose or gain was to push. Hard. The impact of his hand on my cheek, definitely defined his character. Sad as it is, as it was – my character’s only way of letting go of a vice that was going to deplete me. Kill the very essence of everything that defines me. The self restraint that he possessed, whatever the amount at that moment broke. I myself couldn't, wouldn't say I was shocked, staring at the ceiling that we had laid under together, only difference of him mounting me this time was that all i could feel from all the past mixed bittersweet views, was myself choke. It took me a long time to write this, 22 months about to be almost exact. Unforeseen as it was at the time i was influenced by an almost instant insanity that allowed me to live in a dream-like state where i was comfortable, comfortable enough to entertain friends black & blue. Comfortable enough to smile and relay the story of our affiliation, not giving a fuck about my excessive make up cracking. Enough to point out the best side of my healing physical wounds of his masterpiece, to him. Comfortable enough to listen to my torment being retold through the airwaves as some hot piece of gossip. I was going to stand on a mountain and let them know. What your gutless spineless excuse of chap gave me as a shiny finish of a thank you for tending to you for three hundred and sixty five days. Nothing is worth much if it can be broken. Gino Obuseng

My Love Affair: No one told me this shit was a drug!

I had a really bad breakup once, the way my mind is tricky, smart in its craziness. I made sure that when my friends asked what happened. Where is he? How is he? I put him on blast, this was so that I couldn’t go back, and I didn’t want to go back. So that if I thought about it I would feel embarrassed. The following is going to be blow-by-blow highlights of my love affair with nicotine. Part I – Menthol: I started smoking cigarettes in the year 1997; I was in standard seven and 12 years old. In the bathroom of the tennis club – Phikwe, with a friend. And the funniest thing is that I didn’t know anyone personally who smoked, I have one memory a LONG time ago of my dad smoking on ‘his chair’ in the house we used to live in from when I was born. But I can’t even be sure if that memory is mine or something that was created by the fact that I ‘heard’ he smoked back then and associate it with the chair he was always sitting. This friend of mine and I used to buy a packet of Craven A every Friday, and hide out in the toilets and smoke – whether or not at that time we were actually inhaling the smoke or not I cannot remember. But 1 thing I know for sure it had nothing to do with seeming cool to anyone, in the presence of our peers. We hid it, it was our little secret, so much so that we would throw that packet away that night before getting picked up for home. We did this every weekend for a while. I went to Zimbabwe for Form in 1998, it wasn’t an addiction. I think I smoked for the 1st time 2 months after getting there, in 1 of those Bulz creepy alleys, and I think this was maybe at most if at all one smoke a week. It scared the shit outta me I guess – I wasn’t with my partner in crime. Part II: Turkish Delights: 1999 Delta Waters International School, the shit hit the ceiling! I am surrounded by bush thick enough to hide from someone standing 20m away from you. Surrounded by people exactly like me – people waiting to lose their minds!  Everyday, we made Bashi (the guy who ran the tuck-shop right outside the school fence) a lot of money. Who would say no to a bunch of spoilt kids trying to own a bad habit? Smoking became now a twice weekly thing for most of this year. The closer and closer I got to people, the more they trusted me, the more I was welcomed into their hiding spots – the 1st time I inhaled a cigarette was a thrill I had NO idea was existent! In my mind sprung ‘what the hell have I been denying myself’? (Truth). I was with about 4 girls in the school garden, deep in the bushes where there was a patch of really soft sand to hang around on. Someone advised me that ‘I wasn’t doing it right’. So I was taught how to do this ‘right’. The head rush was unbelievable. I will never forget that day, that’s the day my addiction was born. That cigarette was the white and gold banded Courtleigh. I wanted that dizziness, I feel in love with it. So started my everyday hit of the nicotine stick. Part III: Open 24/7: The year 2000 – I have now established my ‘click’ and we running shit. We were known as what... SU – not scripture union, but smokers union. A group of four unfuckwitable chicks. We smoked and we didn’t give a hoot! We could leave our individual classes one at a time and go just 100m away to the school bathrooms to chain smoke and just chill. (What the hell were we on??) And on one of our holidays off school, 1 of us came back having discovered the Turkish tobacco cigarettes, Camel. This is the same year I had my 1st drink. Have always been big on smoking than drinking, still am. (Just do the drinking thing so well when I do it). At this point it is an everyday thing. And proudly saying it to our peers, openly smoking in the situations that permitted us to and had credit tabs. And for next 13 years I smoked – switching brands once in my 3 year overseas stint. Peter Syversant Filter – red, faithful I was to this brand. Smoking became part of my identity. Part of my every day, the scent became part of the sweat that excreted from my pores. Having that stick between my fingers became how people around me, 1st acquaintances identified me. Became the periodic reason to stop for a few minutes when travelling. It became an excuse to sit alone, it became the shrub to hide behind when in an awkward moment. It became a way of life, to spark conversation to make friends. Someone at some point in my life smoked, most of my friends smoked. Smoking was my after meal dessert, my morning coffee. Apparently i was one of those people that smoking suited. It made me approachable – SKEIF! And all along not giving a fuck, smoking was killing me. Eroding my system, fighting against the radiance that i had inside me. Holding me down. Final goodbye 2013: this is the year I would accept that health is better than the morning head rush. That my blood pressure will need more help on my part to stay down. But only twice did I ever not smoke. Twice, too bed ridden or sick to go and get that hit of nicotine. Twice and both times no longer than 24hours. Smoking is a vice i have loved and hated for 15 years of my life. ‘I want to quit. I will quit’. This was not happening for me, I am not as strong as those that could JUST give it up. March 12 2013, 2330hours, my last cigarette. With assistance from pharmaceuticals, Zyban may have saved my life, grateful and expensive – I pray every day that I do not go back to this bad habit. I pray for strength, discipline. Proud of a week without a hit, proud because this was a milestone, this was a 1st. After seven days, I thought I was getting the cold. My body felt weird, dizzy spells, sweating – I CANT SLEEP! Fiending and bouncing off the walls. NO ONE TOLD ME THIS SHIT WAS A DRUG! It’s over, between me and nicotine. I don’t need you anymore. There isn’t room for you to grow, you have damaged my insides enough. I wish I could throw it in your face and say there is no more harm you can do. Every day of my life for 13 years, if I was to settle for P12 a day, for 13 years, obviously not counting when the packs just dropped accompanied my some drinks. I have spent an estimated average of P60, 000 on nicotine. Its over! I’m done! No more scraping in between the couch, shaking bags and begging for coins or debt for a cigarette. I figured I smoked ALL my teenage years and most of my 20’s – time to try something new for the rest of the life I have to live. Gino Obuseng