August

August is that time of year when you look back on months past and see undeniable evidence of witchcraft.

Though you started the year with the best intentions, you know there’s a voodoo doll out there that could be your twin. Hairline receding, stomach large, pins like knives in its back.

It’s the only logical explanation.

A sangoma somewhere has been paid in cash and KFC to make you see all manner of flames.

The first spark of fire begins in January. The month in which you had all the hopes, zero cash but tons of motivation. Your resolutions were ready, you made it through the valley of the shadow of brokenness and February was going to mark the beginning of a new life filled with good food, plenty of exercise and hard work.

Until it had you all messed up about love.

The accepted month of amour, February rolled by and saw you single or looking at your significant other like they’d become a hyena overnight.

Suddenly the world seemed intent on having you die alone or playing some cruel trick that made you see the love of your life in a different light.

One emphasising the glow of that hot piece at the shebeen, Chopsi’s or simply walking around the supermarket. While considering the depth of your singlehood or situationship, though you’d only just outlined them, February succeeded in distracting you from your goals. All running around for half-hearted Valentine’s Day gifts or plunging yourself into last resort speed dating considered.

So, like I said… a sangoma. An evil entity hired by that waitress you insulted then, didn’t tip and who eventually took her annual trip to the North to consult with the most powerful witch in all the land about how best to humble you.

March, the month of independence, saw you fighting against the curse. You finally shook off the ghosts of KeDecember, you hit your stride and you were feeling better than ever. March was a good month before April had you looking like a fool.

With winter incoming in May, f*ckgirls and boys were out hunting for a seasonal vleiskombers and so, in April, you were sold the kind of dreams that halted abruptly when he or she found someone with eyes glistening with far less forever.

Then May.

And the sangoma’s beads rattled like shutters in the winter wind that always manages to find its way into the heaviest of China Town blankets to nip at your toes like a plague sent forth by shop tellers you didn’t bother to greet, “please” or thank you”.

Luckily you have a thousand public holidays to look forward to and these lift your spirits, recharge your batteries and have you approaching June feeling like a million bucks.

But then June and the winter realness that has you home after dark, gaining weight and a stranger to your social life coupled with that feeling that, while we’re all in the same arctic boat, you may be a little colder, fatter and more prone to the pestilences of the season. Like flu, measles or disappearing data.

Somewhere a witchdoctor cackles and July descends.

Through all of this witching, you have been working – punching in and punching out – so July finds you ‘tayad’. It’s still cold. Your summer figure has left you for dead and you’re wondering where time goes and how you can get it back while the beggar you breeze by every day smiles knowingly.

Now August.

The month in which you realise you’re officially closer to the beginning of next year than you are to this one.

The 31 days during which everyone and their dog will have their birthday because, clearly, nobody insists on wearing condoms in December and August babies are rife and ridiculously hopeful about their birthday present wish lists, so bankruptcy.

August.

The long month near the end of a long year in which you seriously consider travelling to the North to see about reversing the curse but before you book the bus ticket, you alight on the idea that the antidote to all this mediocrity is within … and every day is an opportunity to do better.

To me, August is New Year 2.0.

The sun is on its way, September has a spring in its step and there’s just enough time left to light a fire under your *ss and make sure that this year isn’t defined by setbacks, failures or excuses.

Sure, there may be a host of dismal days behind you – knocking your confidence, shaking their heads and being beasts – but there are still four full months in front of you to do with what you dream.

Because you never know.