Tag Archives: blogging

Finally – an explanation

It’s no secret I’ve not been active on my blog this year.  I can now offer a brief explanation.


My place of employment had some tough decisions to make.  In a nutshell, a restructure was called for.  That restructure meant my going from full-time employment there to being utilized on a freelance basis.  The change took effect on 01 July, but we all knew about it months ahead of time.  In anticipation of the shake-up in my life and the effects it would have, I started preparing early by channelling all of my energy into learning as much as I could about the entire spectrum of my trade.  See, if you do freelance videography in Namibia, your chances of surviving off a regular income are slim to zero.  I therefore considered, and after much hand-wringing, decided to start up a videography production company with one of my colleagues once our time at our previous place of employment lapsed.


We are in our first month now, and it is a scary ride so far.  As you can expect, starting up a business of your own takes up a lot of time and energy.  So much so that I’ve not been able to write or read very much for some time.  Of course, I’m hoping that all changes as quickly as possible and that my blog can once again become a part of my life and routine.


I want to thank all of those of you who continue to support me when I do post.  Please don’t see my absence from your own blogs as rejection – I dearly want to catch up with your exciting journeys.  You have all been so inspirational to me, and continue to be.  I value all of you.


For those of you who are interested, you can see our company showreel here: Page Ten Productions – Showreel
We also have a Facebook Page here: Page Ten Productions – Facebook

Thank you all once again for your marvelous support.  I will be back.


Redemption Road

I spent the last hours of the afternoon on the peak. I was alone on an island in a sea of clouds. The sunlight was honey, the wind arctic.
I would see you the next day. The first time in four years. So my emotions were wild monkeys.
But I remember that more than anything, I wanted to cry. I could not though. At first I thought it was because my tears would turn to ice and my cheeks were not warm enough to melt them again. Or that I did not have enough bodily fluids left for excessive emotions.
That was, of course, until I considered when the last time was that I shed a tear. For anything. At first I could not remember.
I wished I cried when I lost you. But I had been so afraid of everything happening around me that I focussed within myself. On my own survival.
By the time I realised I was okay, it was too late to mourn anyone. And there were many to mourn. Instead, I resolved to find you again by any means necessary. I would not sleep peacefully for a single night as long as you had not forgiven me.
Because I had never mourned losing you, I could not cry with joy at the realisation of seeing you again.
The last time I cried was when Malik and I were eight years old. I stole a coin out of his mother’s purse one day. She noticed it missing and interrogated us. Malik did not know I had taken it. We both swore our innocence. His mother beat him until his shrieks were from the shock of seeing his own blood. I never confessed to the crime.
On the walk home that evening, I sat down in a large field and cried. Not out of remorse for stealing. Not for betraying Malik. Not because I felt sorry. I cried because I knew that I could never go back to being the me I was before the incident. I had found out about a terrible part of myself that existed within me and that would remain with me for life.
The sun had set on top of the mountain before I got up, ambled to the edge of the ocean of clouds, then sank myself into the world below in order that I may meet you once again.

After The War

—I forgot to pay my internet bill and got cut off. Hahahaha. So I wrote today’s entry on my phone. It is 140 characters in length – like a twitter message.—

I didn’t dare think of you in the Time of Broken Dreams. And you didn’t think of me. I still exist. I wish I cared enough to find you again.