“U humiliated him!! Insulted him cursed him with ur kak posts about him. Now u want sit back & tjunk? Lyle was neva who u made him out 2 be. &yes I’m sad bout his death but happy that u Shana must now xplain 2 his daughter who her father really was. R u going 2 tell her that he was a broke ass poes driving laaties to schl & back? Like u did in ur posts & on ur blogs”.
If you are reading this, and you are not a basic-bitch who ceased all formal education in grade 9, allow me to edit this affront at the English language.
Herewith, for your reading pleasure, the translation from the widely spoken language, “Domnesia”.
“You humiliated him, insulted him with your bullshit posts and now you feel that you have the right to cry about his death? Lyle was not who you portrayed him as. I may be saddened by his death, but I find solace in the fact that you will have to tell your daughter about who her dad really was. I read all your posts and I really wish I was more involved in your life……….
This is the message from Andrea Somethingpoes as I logged on to my work laptop.
Great. More hate mail.
I suppose it is poetic jusness… I really do hate males.
She continued with righteous indignation:
“U not a mothers poes…”
Her eloquence immediately convinced me that she must be one of his conquests.
I, Andrea, am a Mercedes.
And I am titanium.
I certainly hope that I am not a mother’s poes. I have aspired to so much lately, it would be a shame to be defeated just yet.
I assume the phrasing meant that this was a compliment? She was saying that In fact was not the poes of a mother. Have I so far misinterpreted her intention?
And then, she said something my brain rejected…
“if he raped u id say u fuckn deserved hoe”.
This is the thought pattern that I dreaded after my tribute post to Lyle.
And I feel the need to clarify that at no point should women who have been following my work feel that they should forgive their abuser, on the off chance that they die in a tragic homicide that gets covered by every news agency in the country.
Do not model your decisions based on my life.
I live in the matrix.
And this Andrea mait reeks of stupidity.
“Cry all u want it wont make it beta I hope u liv with guilt the rest of u r life…”
I added the ellipse; I felt that sentence needed something, besides general punctuation and spelling.
Guilt is a relative term
And besides all of Lyle’s relatives making me feel guilty, what I mean is that in life it is very easy to romanticize situations, and take things out of context.
And I would like to address the last week and a half for what it was.
The closing of a chapter.
First, back to our sponsor:
….”Hardest thing 2 do writing the story of his brutal murder????? Y not say the hardest thing 2 do is admitting just the other day u asked why dont u vrek lyle? Well now lyle is vrek u got ur wish naaier”…
“Puttin up pics of u lyle wont change how u bad mouthd him and treated him”
“U deserv 2 be stoned bitch
U deserv 2 be stoned bitch”
So nice, she said it twice.
Andrea Somethingpoes thinks that I deserved to be stoned.
But Andrea, I don’t smoke boem.
You should probably ask by Soraya, being stoned is more her forte.
I have mentioned my aversion to narcotics many times, so her suggestion somewhat baffles me. Odd.
What most people don’t seem to understand is that many levels of self can exist in one person, at the same time.
I can be happy, sad, angry and relieved by the same event.
I have never promoted indulgence. Alas, it is the human condition.
The pleasure-pain that comes with being in the middle of tragedy is the equivalent of an orgasm.
A grieving widow, mother or close friend can rest assured that for an indefinite amount of time, the community will gather around her and hug her; presumably, I have now learnt… that she has been a model woman, and kept her mouth shut.
And when I woke up on Monday morning with a severe throat infection that stopped me from opening my mouth, the irony wasn’t lost on me.
I couldn’t vertel the hordes of mourners exactly how I felt about their kak tributes on YouTube.
Fuck you Nicolene/Nunu/Neanderthal I know you naaid Lyle on Pavillion when we were dating.
It certainly wasn’t a long relationship without you my friend.
I know he used to sell you to his brasse and split the money with you.
The tribute song was to Paul Walker, not street walker.
I have endured so much fake I could mamok it without even contracting my chest muscles.
I have endured cruelty from people who used to laugh them in their poes at my one-liners, and even saw me get hidings.
I have endured rudeness from every false naai at St. Phillip’s Catholic Church in Strandfontein that vuil kyked me at the tribute mass.
Quote me, motherfuckers.
Allow me to extend a superbly manicured middle finger.
I bring you Frank, and sense…and merniette.
And also with you.
Even the priest who only socializes with the Strandfontein elite catholic families acknowledged the entire congregation, except me.
May you burn in self-righteous hell along with many other religious needers.
So, as most of you are dying to know, what was the aftermath of September 5th 2015? I like to call this movie:
“Fokol wedding and a double funeral”.
Soundtrack: The shady after-mass.
The day of his death I went to his home and greeted the family. His uncle found this to be the perfect opportunity to walk down memory lane.
“You gave my nephew a hard life” he said with a straight face.
Yes, I am sorry I told the police he abused me. I should’ve shut up.
I hugged his mistress who had joined him at the family home…Seeing as how he raised Lyle, the apple doesn’t fall far from the OG.
I drifted through the masses of aunties and his cousins who always ignored him.
The St. Phillip’s rent-a-mourners’ ignored my attempt at small talk.
But we spoke about this…
I survived that first weekend…
Lyle loved when I sang. It was the one thing that didn’t end in violins.
Regardless.. I inquired whether I could sing at the send off.
His family assumed I was trying to be disrespectful [I do put the FUN in Funeral], and proceeded to decline every contribution I suggested.
When Thursday came around, I had gotten the picture.
I willfully announced to the powers that be that I would not be attending.
A selfish endeavour, somewhat.
I had no desire to see Lyle’s dead body.
I had no desire to see the rows and rows of side-chicks and Andrea Somethingpoes who felt entitled to vertel me kak.
Their Pews. [See what I did there?]
I had seen him stiff more times than I needed in my lifespan. They could have his cadaver. Fun for the whole family.
Lyle is no longer in his body.
Lyle is now a soul.
I dream about him every night.
This is my punishment.
I cried for Lyle for years…
I have very few tears left, and I will reserve them for when my children accomplish great things.
And right now, I cannot afford to break down.
When I break down, I become incapable of providing for my son and my daughter.. Lyle’s daughter..
The daughter I AM STILL providing for ALONE.
I work two jobs.
16 hours a day.
Plus being a mother: those hours are 24/7
I liberated myself from an abusive relationship.
So when I ignore your abuse, I am not threatened, I am not offended…
I am being selective.
Your negativity is not beneficial..
It is not unique.
And I wonder why you have so much free time that you can dedicate such a large chunk of it to me.
People do not become Saints when they die.
No matter how much better it makes you feel to say that they do.
Can you imagine the Jews at Hitler’s funeral?
“Haai, he was nogal oraait man, shamepies.. At least he gave out gold stars”.
So this is the last post about you.
And this is the last post about Lyle.
And if that means that you no longer read my work… Don’t let the unfollow button hit you on the ass.
But if you truly are a fan of my writing, and thoughts, I sincerely appreciate that you take the time to read my stuff each week [Every two weeks at least man, fok don’t go on]
And yes, the last time I made a sanctimonious speech, the universe knocked my ass so far back to Kansas I lost my fucking breathe for a minute.
But Lyle never wanted me on my knees.
[Well, not for anyone else.. Am I right? .. too soon?]
Our relationship was hard to understand.
But I realized that I treated him the way I did, because of the way he treated me.
I was reacting.
I thought I would have at least another 50 years.
But the universe had different plans.
And now, so do I.
I am turning the page…