Our South
African Boer Cousins 1
by Albert Russo
Ass-side: Boer in
Afrikaans, is pronounced Burrrah
Cousin Kif raises chickens,
turkeys, rabbits, pigs, cows and all the bull
that goes with it, stink- and crapwise - you have
guessed, haven't you, that I ain't no country
girl, and that when Bonka and I are thrust into
similar situashuns, we look like two
crazed bees in a bloomin' bonnet, and that's when
I feel like squashing him to bits coz he's the
one to suggest such nannities (a little
girl can't say 'inanities', she would sound like
a nannygoat).
Our cousin only wears khaki shorts that make his
thick legs look like gammons, while his safari
shirt is so tight his nipples seem to be aiming
at you, ready to fire. His arms are so bushy you
could knot them in dozens of little braids, ditto
for the hairs that sprout out of his torso, on
account that the three upper buttons have
exploded long ago. His barrel-like wifey is
called Maatje (pronounce Mahh - tcha) and
obediently repeats everything her hubby says,
like she is the fat puppet of an even fatter
ventriloquist. They seem to get on famously, even
tho she has a mustache, which she tries to hide
under layers of powder - actually, if she added
some more of this heavy makeup she could perform
in a big deparment store as Mother Christmas, coz
nowadays women can do all the jobs under the sun,
thanks to felinism.
The couple - with their size, I would say the
quadruple - has two kids (Goddess knows how large
they are) have been sent to boarding school north
of here in a town called Louis Trichardt, which
lies near the border with Zimbabwe - look at the
map, I ain't your geography teacher, ok!
The quadrangle's livingroom
is adorned with beastly tusks that are not one
bit adorable, on the contrary, they look
terrifying, specially when half the lights are
off. They're Kif's hunting trophees. A good thing
he's no longer allowed to go after the big game
like he used to, coz with people like him we
would soon have no big cats or elephants left -
between you and me, they can continue to train
themselves on scorpions, crocodiles and snakes,
on account that I have no compashun
whatsoever for them nasty bummers.
Buddhists apparently
believe we shouldn't kill any living being, not
even the damn mosquitoes that cause malaria and
sleeping sickness. I lovya good old Buddha, but
not the damn critters; tell me tho, how come you're
always bulging on all sides, if you don't eat any
meat or fish? I've never heard of anyone becoming
obese, just munching carrots and raw spinach, or
having avocado for an entrée and a pear or a
kiwi for dessert!"
Kif misses the good old
times (that's apartheid, dummy) where he could
hunt all the animals he wanted, and he doesn't
stop lashing out against the new government,
treating them as a bunch of kaffirs who
dare dictate him what to do.
From
the GOSH ZAPINETTE! series (15 episodes in all)
8/9//21 Excerpted from Zulu Zapy wins the Rainbow
Nation, by Albert Russo.
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