Life was when Good Nights were sweets

2015-07-02 06:00
laughing with
lunga adam

laughing with lunga adam

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Tomorrow, July 3rd, I’m celebrating my birthday. Do I hear you say hip hop hooray?

Do not ask me about my age, for it ain’t nothing but a number. Suffice to say that I’m at an age where the old lady is piling pressure on one to find a woman to put that ring on.

Just last week, during the casual pillow talk, that potential Mrs M asked: “Ngubani i size yakho ye ring, babe? And “don’t you wanna know mine”?

I saw that question coming, and so created a ruse.

I brought up a topic about Orlando Pirates! On a more serious note, the occasion of my birthday has propelled me to sit down and ponder about the differences between life back when I was a kid and now.

Ubuntu no longer existsI must say one is grateful to have lived this long because, come to think of it, some were aborted and others lost their lives at a very early age.

In other words, iintanga zam sezabhubha.

I can’t help but notice that these days, life is way too costly and the spirit of neighbourliness no longer exists in our communities.

Most necessities, like bread, milk (and beer) used to set you back just a few rand, whereas nowadays you have to be grateful not to be going to bed on an empty belly.

In addition, when I was small, kwaito music was big. It was not uncommon to see a fellow standing at a street corner, wearing a pair of All Stars, a panama hat and an oversized shirt, while dancing to the sound of Mdu Masilela or Boom Shaka.

Need I say, being impressionable kids from Kasi, we thrived on being naughty.

There was nearby Goal Supermarket at the Philippi industrial area, where we would descend with not-so-well-meaning intentions.

The plan was often to grab biscuits or chocolates from the shelves and make them jostle for space with our private parts in our underwear, before making a hasty exit.

The plan would work to a tee. But, at other times, it fell flat. And so it was always quite something of a spectacle when you waltzed into the shop, only to stumble upon your friend freezing to death in the refrigerator, with a cardboard hung over his neck, written: “Ndibe ibiscuits ze R4.95c.” Quite some sight that was!

Generations of thievesYou’ll be surprised to learn that it was not just us little ones who were often caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Some adults, too, had kleptomaniac tendencies. Remember that when one was collared and displayed for all to see, they’d only be released at 5pm when the shop closed for the day.

Rather co-incidentally, this very topic came up in a chat with the missus recently.

She had a friend nicknamed “Good Night”. She was so named because her mother was selling a bbrand of sweets known as “Good Nights”.

Umama ka Good Night, so goes the story, once went to buy a tray of chicken at Goal Supermarket, round about noon, but despite the shop being close-by, she had not returned home by 3pm.

It was until my girlfriend and her friends went to the store after school, that they spotted her in the fridge, freezing, and sitting on a yellow crate.

Barely able to contain their laughter, they hurriedly went out to share the news with Good Night’s family. Imagine the shock!

Happy birthday to me. If you see me indulging in biscuits and chocolates tomorrow, please do not accuse bme of any misdemeanor, am an adult now, and those would not have been lifted from some supermarket

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