It is strange to think of it. July for many years in my upbringing was just another month. Okay, not as cold as the surprising sudden temperature changes in June. But it was just another dry windy month for me in the Qaru (Karoo).
I can also vaguely recollect those moments when people made references to the July Handicap somewhere in Durban. I was not bothered. But to my amazement, July has now recently demanded some additional attention from me.
Yep, it is not possible to give the month a casual look when one is aware that the miracle called Rolihlahla Mandela was born in July. It is in fact silly to just glance at July as a moment of reference to Julius Caesar. That would limit the month to imperial narrowness. Julius Caesar, remember, got his fame or notoriety by running the Roman empire. This week yours truly got educated about the intellectualism of July.
I am not going to try to make you believe in my intellectual prowess, no. I am not an intellectual, but I do love intellectualism. That’s why I went to Wits, UWC and at some instance I peeped at the University of Oslo before Pentech gave me journalism. Besides journalism then, you know I am also a fan of the intellectual in life. Yes, I am!
And this month I also discovered why I love July. This month is that part of the year that celebrates chess. In other words it is a month for thinkers. I also feel that is why Madiba was born this month.
See, on August 20 the world celebrates that magnificent game: chess. Needless to say, I love chess. I learnt to play it in my primary school days. When the other guys of my age where into dominos, drafts and cards I learned to play chess. Let me confess, I am not the number one thinker in a game of chess. I do remember sad moments when my games lasted seven moves and 10 minutes when I was lucky. I also recall that day when a relative advised me that maybe draughts were a better option. He also thought that I had a better hand in the card game crazy eights, he said before leaving for that important chess tournament they had organised at a place near the school.
The relative also pleaded that if I decided to go to the tournament, I must please tell the guys that he was not the one who invited me. I said, “sharp” but later found myself trudging my feet towards that chess venue. Needless to say, the nasty glances told yours truly that he was not really welcome there.
The one thing I love about myself is an intelligence that steers me away from suicidal tendency. So I humbly left the chess room.
Remember Alfred Tennyson and The Charge of the Light Brigade or Muskiete Jag, or Ukutshona Kukamendi(The Sinking of the Mendi) by SEK Mqhayi – a poem of the tragedy of South Africans on a ship en route to Europe to the World War I. Mind, then, my glee at the discovery that poetry and chess are related in mind games – excuse the pun.
Take note also of a particular glee in me when I noticed that poetry is not just for anybody who can write a sentence with no errors in the grammar.
But let me confess that I never lost my love for chess. I do remember that when I played draughts, many of my opponents had to remind me that “this is not chess broer, it is draughts!” Humble as I am, I would acknowledge my mistake and plead for an understanding that chess and draughts were played on the same board. I remember the opponent saying “the pieces are different”.
One day, at Monwabisi Secondary School in De Aar where I went to do Standard Seven, a cousin explained that, “the guys here are incapable understanding non-violence”.
He was referring to a verbal altercation I had at school after a chess game which I played to a draw. I can’t remember properly now, but he could have been from Hanover and we all knew that guys from Hanover were more reputed in rugby than in chess. Apparently, I reminded him that “this is not a rugby match”.
The reminder, I was later told, could have been softer because my opponent was not deaf. I can remember saying he might not be deaf alright, but he also did not remind me of Kasparov.
Is it true, then, that this month’s aura is slightly deeper than can be viewed by the cold of the wind and a wintry essence?
For instance, I do not recall starting a relationship in July! July is maybe too holy. This is not journalistically true, it is just a gut feeling. Madiba was good at playing chess, methinks. How else does one explain that guys like Hendrik Verwoerd, BJ Vorster and the likes of PW Botha disapproved of him? Ever heard of PW Botha in a chess match? I haven’t.
A chap who might have a head for chess is FW de Klerk. I, excuse my naiveté, can see FW on a chess board, which explains him releasing Madiba. Releasing Madiba was a brilliant move by Mr de Klerk – even I know that. The world knows it. That is why I happen to want to think he can play chess.
It is truly a beautiful and intelligent coincidence that Mandela’s month is celebrated with the intellect of the world of chess! I think it is more than a coincidence that should be seen as just and only that. It is a beautiful coincidence that I am sure the world can see. I am poetically pleading that South Africans should view this as a universal signature of what Madiba’s aura signifies.
I know some will dismiss this as simply an emotional grasp of coincidence. Cool, but that is also seen by me as a universal possibility that should be respected as such. There is a beauty in life when we disagree and refute each other in the positives of life. Call me idealistic, as described by beautiful temperament.
As an aside, who is our national chess champion? Is there someone like that. If there is not can I suggest that we have one. I am not going to suggest myself as president, but remember, I do possess the humility to play a role in such an intellectual exercise.
It is a humble desire to be seen in a moment that celebrates the incredibility of human nature. It is obviously needless to say that my wish is that our country hosts an international chess tournament.
I also think that they should do it in the Qaru, because it is quite cool and quiet there. I do not want to sound like somebody who is ambitious for the country to observe the calm of Victoria West. It is only that Victoria West is not that cold in July!