On Durban Weddings and Russian Brides

Posted: September 30, 2012 in MiB Hates Us All

It came to me in a Sweeney Todd-like epiphany – I really do hate you all. The feeling was always there, latent beneath the surface, but it only erupted in full force recently, and to be honest, I’m glad that it did. There is an encroaching plastic blanket that threatens to engulf our world – not global warming, a topic so bland that even the school debaters have given up on it, which is saying a lot – but human plasticity, where human beings themselves have ascended from emotional depths to become very, very shallow… things. Everywhere I cast my gaze, I see people Facebooking and tweeting and twatting away on iPhones and iPads – I mean, one of the most popular iPhone apps consists of popping virtual bubble wrap. On a scale of one to Eeyore, how depressing is your life that you gain joy out of popping virtual bubble wrap? Even kids in the fucking Congo get their AK-47s delivered in REAL bubble wrap for them to pop – I assume and hope. No child’s life could be that bad without someone doing something, anything, to change it, right? Besides making a video, of course…

What really gets me, though, is just the fact that people seem to be getting stupider and stupider. Technology has revolutionized the way we think, live and communicate yet computers have basically morphed into a Matrix of wank-machines. The greatest invention since some unheralded genius decided “Fuck it, I want my bread sliced” – and I refer of course to the Internet – was supposed to connect us, democratize us and set us truly free – all it’s really given us are lolcats, Rebecca Black and 24-hour-a-day access to tentacle porn.

Hank Moody put it best when he said: People… they don’t write anymore. Instead of talking, they text, no punctuation, no grammar: everything today is LOL this and LMFAO that. You know, it just seems to me that society is just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people at a proto-language that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King’s English.

Amen, Hank. WTF indeed.

Furthermore, I don’t really care that other people have become plastic – in fact, being very antisocial and bordering on the sociopathic, I don’t really care about most other people at all. I do care about people that are not plastic, however, and I do care when other people’s plasticity affects me. Take the December holidays, for instance. Yours truly is stranded at home with nowhere to go and nothing to do besides play Batman: Arkham City on PS3 and get tortured by the psychopath that is my brother. And trust me, even though Batman is awesome, defeating the Joker 33 times in a row and then having to deal with his real-life sibling counterpart becomes tedious and dangerous to one’s health after a time.

It is for this very reason that I immediately grasped the chance of going to Durban with my aunt and cousin for a wedding – despite my intense dislike of social gatherings, I would do anything to leave behind the monotony of waking up and doing nothing but surviving the wrath of an equally bored but horrifically dangerous 11-year old. I packed my small travelling bag, said hasta-la-vista to the soul-sucking vampires known as my family and departed hastily one fine Sunday morning; my aunt, my cousin and I heading for the promise of warm weather, soft sands and half-dressed yet fully intoxicated babes. I had spent no more than two hours with my aunt and my cousin on the way to Durban when I realised that I had made a big mistake by deciding to travel – let alone share lodgings – with these two megalomaniacs for the next 7 days, but unfortunately there was no turning back. I was treated for no less than 5 hours to prospective wedding plans for my cousin and possible brides for him – he’s 18 now, 17 at the time of this conversation, proving that my 21st century BBM addict of an aunt hasn’t abandoned that particular practice from darkest India – to which I simply nodded and smiled and silently wished the wrath of Cthulhu upon Bianca, the most promising future bride.

When asked about my wedding plans, I truthfully replied that I fully intend to marry four wives (keeping in line with Islam’s limits on polygamy) – one Russian, one Spanish, one Brazilian and one Irish – and I stated that as my aunt had, against my pleading, invited me to this imaginary wedding of Bianca and Freddy – I’m not even sure that Bianca knows who Freddy is – they were not invited to my first, third and fourth weddings but were invited to the second. This, by the way, is my TRUE intention – simply marrying an Indian South African woman would probably bore me to suicide – and it’s nice to have a language barrier or two to work around; I’m positive that it will keep things interesting. Furthermore, who wouldn’t want to marry women from countries that have produced the likes of Irina Shayk, Penelope Cruz and Adriana Lima? Unfortunately, I don’t know where the Irish woman fits into all of this.

Nevertheless, I revealed my plans for having not one nor two but four extraordinary wives who would provide me with countless hours of hot, sweaty, totally halaal sex and countless more hours of headaches and possible bankruptcy, to which my aunt replied rather snidely that I shouldn’t look for someone too extraordinary since they might then find me too ordinary. To which I replied that I subscribe to the Ancient Zen philosophy of “Who Gives a Fuck?” and that “beautiful” Bianca seemed rather ordinary now, didn’t she? The remainder of the trip passed in a welcome but very awkward silence.

Some of my escapades in the well-known party destination of Umhlanga include solitary moonlight strolls on the beach, getting into a fight and emerging from a pool with a bleeding nose, getting wrongfully blamed for throwing my cousin’s shoe into a neighbouring flat and suffering 2 days of a wedding during which I was begrudgingly introduced to a plethora of family members that I did not know existed and was subsequently ignored by said family members after pointing this out to them.

On the last night of our coastal getaway, my aunt decided to invite the groom’s family (our side of the marrying couple) to our tiny two-by-two apartment (I was sleeping in the kitchen) for “refreshments”, which in this sense meant ordering 8 boxes of pizza and 6 litres of Coke. As we were the males and thus pre-assigned procurers of sustenance, my cousin, my uncle, some other bearded weirdo’s (beardos?) and I embarked upon this mission to procure said sustenance – everything was proceeding smoothly until we were safely on the road back to the hotel and I noted (and later thoroughly regretted doing so) that we had forgotten one bottle of Coke at the Debonairs. Deciding against simply going back to the hotel, my uncle was determined (in true Indian style) to obtain the full value of his R12 and so we returned to the Debonairs, where a lengthy argument with the Tamil cashier was undertaken since we had lost the receipt. After an eon, we departed without the Coke back to the hotel, where we feasted upon cold pizza and warm coke and it was then that I basically decided “Fuck this” and disappeared from the soul-sucking vampires known as my extended family for a midnight moonlight stroll on the beach, where I marvelled at the star-ridden sky above and the sheer beauty of the reflected moonbeams on the serrated glassy surface of the ocean below and contemplated my murky future and the utter splendour of God’s work. It was then, for a moment, only a moment, that I wished that I had a female companion – even if she was just a plain Bianca – to share this magical feeling with, but then the moment passed, and with a weary heart and a growling stomach, I trudged back to the hotel room, alone.

© 2012-2013 mibhatesusall.com All Rights Reserved

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Comments
  1. Shazia Patel says:

    I felt like I was reading a written piece of my own; I swear these views are precisely as they would be had they come from between my own lips – except of course the poligamy part.

    • Naasir Carrim says:

      Hahaha, °̩ know exactly what u talking about there! °̩ was there! Some quality shit! Keep it up, best thing to do when suppose to be studying is reading this blog! Haha

  2. Tola says:

    Hey Mib I”m Tola 🙂 I’m a friend of Khani’s she told me about your blog. And I agree with her, its wicked funny 🙂 kudos to you bro! Keep it up ☺/

  3. Steve says:

    Very astute observations dear friend.

  4. m.rajah says:

    Haha man nice one

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