Deep down inside, in places I don’t talk about at post-Sona cocktail parties, I want to be in the movies. Look, this writing thing has not been that bad for me. In fact, everything I have done in my life so far: teaching high school maths, biology and science, pretending to be an R&D practitioner at Unilever and Hudson & Knight, being a morning and afternoon drive co-host at Kaya FM — these have all been noble pursuits and necessary diversions while I have played the wait-and-see game until I fulfil my ultimate purpose to be in the movies.
You will be forgiven for misreading this to mean that I want to be a movie star. I’ll admit that when I stand in front of the mirror and deliver that chilling “King Kong ain’t got sh-t on me!” monologue from Training Day, I’m convinced that Denzel Washington can’t hold a candle to me in the thespian discipline. But no, I do not want to be an actor. I actually mean that I want to live inside movies.
Allow me to explain. Have you ever asked a three-year-old what they want to be when they grow up? Toddlers are unencumbered by considerations such as what is realistically possible. You could ask Kevin Hart’s daughter, who has inherited his vertical limitations, what she wants to be and she’ll tell you she wants to be a Sumo wrestler. When my now 20-year-old son was two and you asked him what he wanted to be, he would tell you that he would be Mumble, the penguin character from the animated Disney flick, Happy Feet. To prove how serious he was, for two months he stopped walking completely — he just waddled like a penguin all over the house. This all to say that I believe my destination in life is to be stuck inside a movie, like Jim Carrey in The Truman Show.
If you don’t believe that your fantasies are realistic, just remember that X AE A-Xii Musk is playing president with two other toddlers in the Oval Office as you’re reading this
Before you judge me for harbouring juvenile fantasies, let me hasten to point out that I got permission to cling to this particular fantasy from no less an authority than a carpenter from Nazareth who was born circa 4BC according to most theologians. Yes, the irony of that date is not lost on me. Anyway, in Matthew 18:3 of the Good Book he instructs us: “Unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” So, please allow me the leeway to escape the daily adult drudgery of worrying about soulless fat cat ministers of finance who have been feeding inside the gravy train for so long they have to bite their tongues to prevent themselves from yelling: “Let them eat cake if they can’t afford a mere VAT hike to 17%.”
I want to live inside movies so that I can live in a 45th floor, double-storey Manhattan penthouse with my perfect two-and-a-half children and my wife who wakes up in the morning with perfect makeup. I want us standing in front of our his-and-hers sinks, looking at each other in a giant mirror, brushing our teeth without any discernible foam in the scene. I want her to ask me what I want for breakfast before I leave for my office to negotiate a $3-trillion hostile takeover of Amazon Inc with my partners, my uncle Samuel L. Jackson and my mistress, Angela Bassett.
I want to go downstairs to find that she’s ordered a continental breakfast complete with Lune Croissanterie croissants, Beluga caviar, Gorgonzola Dolce blue cheese and Culatello di Zibello cured ham slices. I want to slap my designer missus lightly on her perfect tush, wink at her and assure her: “Don’t worry hon, we’ve got that bald bastard Jeff Bezos by the cojones.” And then head out to my limo dressed in my Brioni suit.
Life is hard in South Africa right now. Even our president cannot deal with the reality of another fiscal year with 1.2% growth in GDP, the spiralling crime, a silent DA revolt inside the GNU phantom, MKP and EFF bloodhounds baying at the Union Building gates. This is why he’s also off on wild tangents — trying to play the global statesman to solve the Russia-Ukraine war instead of dealing with collapsing Johannesburg infrastructure. And if you don’t believe that your fantasies are realistic, just remember that X AE A-Xii Musk is playing president with two other toddlers in the Oval Office as you’re reading this.
Your dreams are valid, child of the African soil.
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