Membership Application to YOUR Association

Dear Sirs and Madams

As of 14 March of this year, this will have been my 27th application to become a member of your elite association. I have wanted nothing more than your acceptance.

I do understand that it was not going to be an easy process as we devolve and unfortunately year on year the goal posts have changed. I now believe I am fully qualified to become a member even though the initiation has been grueling, sometimes cruel and downright un-Godly. I strongly believe, as you will see in my experience gathered over 27 years that I am now ready.

I realized in the past that I did not fully meet your criteria. My skin colour was at times to light and at times too dark. At most times I was wearing the attire of your rival groups and I sincerely apologise for that. I had been too rich and I realize my behaviour in total was inappropriate. I did have a non-conformist accent and I could not even speak your associations language for the first five years of my life.

Maar fokken hoor nou hier achoesters. Kyk hie neh ek het nou julle association se taal geleer wieties whuh. Elke fokken word en as jy my glo nie….ag man dan julle maens se hele jaar se bloed 530d’s. But hear here nou man, don’t baaisa honde, check my list of kak angevangery…slaat a beer there and chillaks.

Now I was first gewys of your association when I was three. The auntie who looked after me took me to the shebeens, the club en one time to the police when I was naughty. So I checked the grooving and skudding, I mean who wouldn’t wanna be a member. En om my te laat shutdup she gave me beer…eish I was dronk at crèche sometimes, babelaas on the jungle gym, no wonder ek het my bek pap geval nie. So you seee I sommer started early with your most loved association’s regulations…don’t stop, till the dop is op. It the drink that mos starts the kak.

I mean I have 5 in-car sleepovers, 4 arrests for drunken driving, 3 rehabs behind me, 2 hospital visits for alcohol poisoning, 1 name plate on a jail cell and a patridge in a pear tree….WTF ja is eintlik nou gesuip.

So I progress a few years, was mos a bangat at school, till I saw what wonderful security a oukappie can give. Niks weer lunch gesteelery nie, vok jou as jy try my karretjie vat jy gaan laaste kom. Eish at times your sharpened pencil could be a make-shift oukappie. Ja I was a bit nerdy neh but I dodged school like your members as well, but I had to finish you understand; my Tannie and Taaima were members of your association too. They taught me as you have so generously taught them your motto… the violence cures your silence or it’s the only way or something like that, hell my hol was aan die brand how you expect me to remember each time. Oh ja and I did learn a gun maak jou a sterk man…moenie met my sukkel nie.

Jammer man, I tried so hard to be a loafer, but I realized op die stoep whole day sit is mos harde span. You gotta make sure you get your odd from the ousie on her way to work. Its cold outside in your boxers that time of the morning. You gotta watch our for the rivals when you take that shortcut paaidtjie deur die bos. You gotta spien zak from small laaitjie school money and steal from the corner shop to buy zol. You gotta know how to play zweepie, keep a skelm schoolgirl on the side and still have the energy to beat up your ousie when she moans she’s tired and doesn’t wanna cook. Dit was swaar times broe and die rand was laag, but I passed my six month training after matric with flying coloureds. Aweh.

I had to go swat overseas neh and that’s where I backslid…eish the associations and groups there didn’t mos know our ways…But I survived, ek het gestaan vir dit. So after that is mos nou van span. I quickly got back to my old ways…its just like they say, You never forget how to ride a bike and especially that first ou that stole it.
I must have the highest record of Mondays and Fridays sick leave taken. I believe I should get a distinction in all the liegstories told to convince my bosses and plus if you need a doctor to book you off without question…I am your man. So now with odd and a transie I intensified my training…learnt how to multitask….I mean mos slaat round, drink and drive and smoke, while the skelm holds on to your thigh, while you swearing someones mother and bumping a child in the road and writing your car off in a dangerbox ALL at the same time.

If my application is shup I solemly swear op my oorlee ouma groeitjie se grave that I will rock up at the interview in my kush, blast my maazi laat julle next country neighbours dit hoor, gatecrash the interview, arriving late nogals in my carvelas, levi’s en lekaai’s, start a fight with the doorman, get the secretary pregnant on the lift…sys sal daai papsjeld nooit sien nie, dreig and then moer you with my Zamalek bottle, pee on your potplants, steal you Golf in the parking, fok off home via the club and then send you a “please call me” dik baarbie the next morning to find out if I have been accepted.

I promise to live by the credo: Jou ma se P…..Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc!

Accept my application and proposal and make me the one thing in this whole wide world I’ve always wanted to be:

A COLOURED

JB
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Feda…slaat round, ons moet wietie. Hol my in met daai membership daar.