Things Taken

“Will the youth ever find their future?” Father asked no one in particular. It was a code. He was talking about me again. I was in the next room, getting ready to go out. There would be girls at the march, and I wanted to look and smell as nice as possible.

My Grandfather sat on his old folding chair, listening to American music on his tape player. “The youth will find their way,” he said sagely, his unlit pipe dangling from his lips. “They learn quickly that some things are given, and some must be taken.”

Father grunted at this. Unlike Grandfather, he was a man of few words.

Grandfather chuckled, scanning the room for his matchbook. “Remember“, he said happily, “that I lived to see you take your place, and I will see my Grandson do the same.”

Father eyed me with disapproval as I hurried past him. “Tsamaya sentle”, Grandfather called after me. “Go well.”

That was 1989. Grandfather did not live to see us take our freedom. He never saw Johannesburg become – for better or worse – the place it is today.

Koji's Pack

Koji is already circling the pond. That’s our cue that it’s time to go. He’s our alpha. Of course, the boys have all noticed, and we are ready. The girls are still huddled together, chattering among themselves.

Koji usually leads when we ride. He’s a machine. The stronger boys-me included-will draft behind, and then the girls after, using whatever order they follow.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s no formation rule. We all have fun when we travel. We migrate thru the formation, meet up with friends, and chat the miles away. Except for Koji. He’s all sweat and determination. It’s like he’s invented a new language. He’ll find the time when we’re done traveling.

Occasionally, someone else will lead. They don’t let me though; I have bad eyesight. There was the one time I mistook a junkyard for a rest area. There were dogs. It was bad.

I stretch my legs one last time, get a running start, and take to the air. Above, over the rush of air thru the feathers of my crest and wings, I can hear Koji calling to the girls.

The Strange Obituary of Mr. Renald Sevier

Renald Sevier (196?-2007) passed away on February 22 during his fifth gender reassignment surgery. Sevier, a self-defined “criminal sculptor” was best known for his monumental and controversial sculpture “Death’s Table”. The work’s concealed poison darts have been the cause of 4 deaths, most notably Sevier’s own agent in 1987. Sevier was also co-owner of the London restaurant “6 Stone 4”, a bistro in which the courses were served in syringes. The restaurant, which opened and closed in the spring of 1981, was apparently celebrated among his then fashion model peers, but was otherwise not well received.

Sevier is survived by three former wives and two former husbands. He was pre-deceased by his second husband, the classical pianist Paul Kovacs, who died of fatal hilarity in 1982 after peering into Sevier’s now infamous “Villainous Rotoscope”.

A celebration of Renald’s extraordinary life will be held on March 3, 1pm, at the Taff Gallery. Viewers are advised to remain a safe distance from the casket.