In Loving Memory of Eric Laro Khotseng

06/01/2024

06/01/2024

THE DESIGN FLAW OF THE P***S

When I finally get down to writing my memoirs, the title is going to be "The Legend of uLaro". The early chapters will be dedicated to finding where and when it all began.

Of the elders in my street in Newton who are familiar with the beginning of the legend, only one is still alive to tell. I would let him tell the story but he is not here right now. I do know though, that he would insist the early chapters be titled "Navel-gazing. Pen*s-gazing". Apparently, while all toddlers my age were into gazing at their navels, I was already inspecting my p***s.

This is how the story goes.

It was on the day I turned three years old. Back then being naked was not frowned upon and there were no dangers lurking in the shadows. I had just finished playing with water from the hose pipe and was about to take my nap on the "rooi stoep" in the front of my grandmother's house. Which is still home as we speak.

Those were the days of the "suikermier". The literal translation of "suikermier" is "sugar ant" and I doubt any of us has to this day figured out its real English name, let alone the scientific name of that creature. It was a big reddish black ant with a big head, a small middle, a behind as big as the head, and long legs. I think it was so-called because you always found it where there is something sweet like sugar or spilled honey or jam. While as a child I appreciated that these ants were attracted by the sweet nectar I never could figure out where they were just before. Legends who had ever helped themselves in the veld will tell a similar tale about those big ugly flies that suddenly appear out of nowhere to help themselves to your helpings.

Long story short. I got bitten by the "suikermier" on the tip of my p***s. The pain must have been so excruciating I'm told nearly the entire street reacted to my screaming. It was those days when an ambulance entered the location people would follow it to go "see for themselves". People did come to see for themselves as I was lifted into the ambulance.

Anyway, that's the story I was told when I started being curious about why my p***s looked different to other kids'. Apparently the doctors had no choice but to circumcise me at that age of three. I suppose the doctors must have told my folks "either the fo****in goes or the entire p***s goes", and for good measure, "including the balls".

I grew up thinking my folks had no right to make the decision they made about my life. It was my life. Why let my fo****in go when they had the other choice? Thanks to them I had to watch my friends, and sometimes play with their p***ses, pulling them back and forth, in and out of the fo****in mimicking a hydraulic tool. Their p***ses seemed to play along, gaining bulges as they were pulled (opposite effect = out) and pushed (opposite effect = in). So mentally excruciating I recall going to the boys' toilets only when I would be the only one.

I first appreciated my circumcised p***s in my mid teens when other boys would complain about "di zwets", a white, flaky substance that formed underneath their fo****ins and could be quite smelly and painful if not tended. Suddenly I was King but I became very proud of myself only in my late teens to early twenties when the Xhosa boys in the area would fight each other about one not being a "Doda" (pronounced "indoda") and the other being called a "Kwenkwe" (pronounced inkwenkwe). It turned out "doda" was a man and something to be proud of and "kwenkwe" was a boy and something to be ashamed of. It still did not explain the fighting until the distinction was explained that "doda" was circumcised and "kwenkwe" was not.

Still it did not explain the violence but there was the curious case of them being able to tell if a passing boy or man was a "doda" or a "kwenkwe". I mean duh!?!

I have only ever smoked w**d once in my life. It was that day in celebration after I just realised I have been a "doda" all my life. Since I was three years old, to be exact. A lot of things started making sense. I was always the one calling all the others to order when they were vulgar or doing things we shouldn't be doing. I have always been the one pointing out the dangers of what we are about to do. At the risk of never learning how to swim, I was always the one refusing that any of my friends swim at "Madolo". On football trips to Richie and Warrenton I was always the one staying sober to guard that the others don't do other things. In class I would hold back for all the other kids to catch up or to raise their hands before I finally raise mine and give the correct answer. The shackles of being a "doda"!! Or perhaps it was the w**d speaking?

It must have been the w**d because as we watched our Xhosa friends stick fighting and my high got to its highest, I asked elder Aze (an Afrikaans speaking Xhosa man who was fond of saying "ek is nie ň kaalkaffir nie") "wat is ñ kaalkaffir?". MHSRIP.

Then HIV/AIDS came. We learned that a circumcised p***s reduced the chances of being infected. Apparently the HI virus liked the moist beneath the fo****in and often lay there in wait into it can find its way into the p***s. I could only marvel at the wisdom of my folks. Thixo bawo!!

My p***s gazing was much more than boyish curiosity. It was the kind of curiosity that led the three wise men of the East to follow that Star. The kind of curiosity that led those Greek philosophers to Africa. The kind of curiosity that led humankind to so much development that we see today, including sending men into outerspace.

As I was growing up I became aware of other p***ses. I started gazing at these other p***ses as well. At first my gaze was blatant. With time I became discreet as I realised we were all gazing at each other's p***ses but the other boys were not as blatant. They would steal looks.

But I could tell the curiosity of the other boys was limited to the sizes of the others' p***ses. My curiosity went much deeper. Remember I have been doing it since I was three years old.

You know what they say about gazing at something long enough. They say if you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will look back. They say if you look long enough into the darkness, the darkness will look back. They say you become the darkness and the darkness becomes you. I had looked and looked and looked at my p***s. I won't go as far as to say I became my p***s and my p***s became me. But yes, something moved in me. There was an attraction. At first it was curiosity. Then it became academic. Then scientific. And I realised it's power of procreation, it became biblical.

I stared at my p***s. My curiosity was all those things combined. And at others. I observed the sizes. I observed their slant. Some were crooked; others were straight. Some looked up; others looked down. Yet others looked sideways. Some had lost texture and had to be shaken hard; yet others could sq**rt long distances. Some were short; others were long. Some were thick; others were thin. Most had the fo****in; some were without the fo****in. Those with the fo****in had to be drawn out like hydraulic tools.

As one got older and exposed to the gym and its cloakrooms, it became more about how you carried your p***s. You could tell from the guys' walk in the cloakroom that they were conscious of their p***ses. Some pretended to not care; others walked with their breasts out, their manhood speaking for them.

When you stare at something long enough, it not only stares back. It teaches you something. I learned that the age old question of whether size matters is indeed a good question - to those that are yet to look at the p***s long enough. I learned some p***s philosophy. I learned some p***s mathematics.

Whoever designed the p***s, must have done a bit of philosophy and a bit of mathematics. The philosophy kept humankind to ask the question about the size - if it matters or not. The philosophy made both men and women to travel long distances at the behest of the p***s. The philosophy spoke to the longevity of the p***s, its "mortality".

The mathematics tell us there really is no difference in sizes. The mathematics tell us the difference is in the elasticity ("rate of hardening"). The mathematics distinguishes between the p***s in its flaccid state and the p***s in its erect state. The bigger the p***s in its flaccid state the more "maximum" it is. In other words in its erect state it won't gain in size (assume an elasticity of 1:1). What you see is what you get.

On the other hand, the smaller the p***s in its flaccid state, the more flexible is its elasticity (can be as much as 1:1000). In other words in its erect state it can gain in size up to a thousand times, depending on how well trained the p***s muscle is. What you see is what you want - possibilities.

My academic curiosity got the better of me and one day I asked some lady friends. They were all dismissive: "mcxm. After a while you get used to it then it's all back to square one". I also asked that other question. They all attested to the pinpoint accuracy, with one saying "pretty much like the fuel injector in a motor engine".

All of which leads to the question who designed the p***s?

***s

But who designed the p***s? All we know is that God created man but nothing is said of the p***s. And if you consider that the woman was created as an afterthought, the p***s design couldn't possibly have taken into account the possibility of s*x or procreation. Or generally what to do with it other than to relieve the full bladder. Could this be the reason why the p***s gets bored after a while? Could this explain why it lasts only a few minutes, even after spending so much money and time; travelled such long distances; risked your life, your family

So, who designed the p***s? What was the idea? What did they seek to achieve?



There are essentially two flaws in the design of the p***s. The first is that the p***s has or can easily develop a mind of its own.

I'm not suggesting that this is a great revelation. Many people, both men and women, have at times casually spoken of p***ses having minds of their own. For different reasons of course. Most men think they must explain why it wouldn't get up at that specific moment and the "mind of its own" excuse does the trick. Most women speak of that only in sarcastic tones, often suggesting that the man is a mere attachment to the p***s and not the other way round.

Granted, it may very well not have been the intention of the designer. What society needs to discuss instead is whether this can be used as a defence by the man in situations where their p***ses indeed acted independently.

The second flaw is the duality of functions of the p***s. As a tool for the satisfaction of women; and as a toy for men to taunt each other. Both these functional flaws have at various times threatened civilisation as we know it. Kingdoms and empires have hung on knife-edges while p***s issues were addressed. A President of the most powerful nation very nearly lost his job. Fathers have had to face off against sons. Brothers against brothers. Friends against friends. Comedians have suggested that had it not been for the quest to keep our p***ses provided for, man would not have needed to build mansions and fancy cars and would have happily still lived in caves.

Most of the troubles of the world today - in fact ever - have at their genesis a squabble about whose p***s is bigger than the other. If not about stray p***ses.

As for the balls, it is unclear why there had to be only two.

28/07/2020

My Dad
Thank you for everything you have done for me. You carried me for 30 years of my life and for the first time in my life I have to live a day without you. You are so full of love, never have I ever needed love in my life. My life will never be half your life was. My heart has been ripped from my chest.... I thank God for your life....God bless your departed soul. I love you ❤

Refilwe

27/07/2020

⭐Eric "uLaro The Guru" Khotseng⭐

The rumours of your passing have finally been confirmed🙆 and for a good two hours or so I have been in denial about this, hoping that it was just malicious gossip-mongering, given you had a fairly adversarial relationship with the current provincial leadership with whom you shared a political home.

It has been exactly 9 days since you last communicated on Facebook, and this was not surprising because we have learned that on occasion we embark on a hiatus from these streets just to take care of what needs our attention more. We could never have known that this break would be permanent.

We've interacted on many fronts, one of which was with the 2018 community meetings leading up to what would be known as the Kimberley Shutdown - an event which was spawned by the then electricity tariff hikes, inter alia.

We've also had many pleasant encounters on Facebook where we would tag Lolo Seleka, Mercia Boikanyo and Char Maggs, and in all these instances we were light-hearted and each of us treated each other like siblings.

One thing by which I will certainly remember you is your relentlessness in what you believed. Subsequent to the Colesburg Conference, for many months after the disbandment of the "Zamdesh and Sylvin" factions, you have maintained your Sylvin profile picture even at the height of some of your comrades selling out to ingratiate themselves with a faction you were pitted against. You were unceasing in your criticism of today's provincial leadership, and you sought no allies to fight the proverbial Goliath before you.

Such quality is very rare in this era where what you say can be used against you insofar as limiting your career is concerned. You knew this, yet you persevered and spoke your own truth. This is what makes even those on opposing sides respect you more than they respect those who jumped ship for convenience!

A prolific writer you were, and so we shall surely miss the flirtation of your pen as you enchanted us with your musings.

We thank you for your authenticity and for having deposited in our spirits an indelible mark that may very well translate into a "What Would Laro Say?" mantra whenever we are confronted by realities where no man dares to speak their mind, for fear of being sidelined.

May you find rest in a realm we are yet to crossover to!

Long Live The Spirit of uLaro The Guru✊🙏

~ Mzwa Bekisi

27/07/2020

Im speechless...your revolutionary fight is over.... go well my friend, bother and Comrade.

Till we meet again. Eric Maera

My sincere condolences to the Family and Friends of Ularo... his presence will be severely missed by many across the province. May our Heavenly Father comfort you during this painful phase.

From the Sulliman family.

~ Igshaan Sulliman

27/07/2020

It is with a heavy heart writing this status. Rest in peace Guru, Comrade Eric Laro.

You always engaged in reasoned conversations about what matters, and how we, as sovereign of this land, can act to stop the risks that are threatening our dreams.

You propelled us to shift the frame of reference from the politics of fear and patronage. You demanded of us to advance, deepen and defend the revolution.

You are leaving us behind with a very strong platform which to build the contours of our mission as a generation to whom so much has been bequeathed and of whom so much is expected. Go sleep my leader. You have played your part. You were a necessary irritation to our movement. You held the leadership accountable. May our Gods forgive us and we appeal to the Angel of death to stop. Sivile, kwanele!!!

~ Mzwandile Dlabazana

27/07/2020

Tribute to Eric "Laro" Kgotseng.....writes SirThabang Shepstone Seekoei.

The fearless & unapologetic great thinker & strategist of recent times has fallen.
An accountant intellectuals of note & irritator to the most powerful of our times indeed is silent due to death.
An author & thinking tank, a guru & respected gentlemen feared by those who pretended not to fear him but his ideas has indeed died.

Sad day & news to learn about the passing of a great mind I've worked with in recent past in various processes a leader who would never put his interest before any gain but trully worried about the logical conclussion that will set democratic gains into concrete perspective, a great mind who would come up with chronic solutions for problems many never noticed a forever smilling individual , a great thinker & problem to the sitting leadership in all structures.

Indeed Laro has died.
Those who admired him & drew clarion redponsibilities are downing their affected minds & revolutionary banners in mourning the passing of this great mind.
Maybe he wasn't cheered by those who were his age group & they could not easily attack him as the 1965 born had energies to match the 2000 brigade set to tackle Laro on their behalf.
Many illeterate little minds tried to put him down & were eventually put down by his wisdom & God gifted talents yes he's a member of the ANC, he believed in social justice,equality & the imancipation of human rights & to protect the gains set to benefit the people of Frances Baard....yes he was patriotic never was he a sellout of note but was never afraid to take on the big guns in Province & Region was feared by those who thought could lead but using others for narrow & selfish ends.

Yes Laro has been silenced by death but his memories will lead & stay forever many has learned a thing or two from him & many will not match his credentials as he was a great mind never set for failure & believed in fair & transparent orgsnisational processes which we lack toda

27/07/2020

My first fight with Cde Laro was about me calling Him Larkies.
Today everyone calls him Larkies n he always said.. Ke Deer Wena Leader!!!
I'm sorry for that my big brother.
You went Like a Guru...
Rest in Peace ET Guru Aka Eric Maera
~ Neo Moatswi

27/07/2020

This is one of the most devastating news ever to hear about the passing of Cde Eric Laro Khotseng. We have lost an intellect, political statistician and a true dedicated comrade of the movement. He was my comrade and we worked closely together preparing Regional program's, there's alot to say about him. The entire Province will be missing his writing's on Facebook and Political inputs. He was one of our best regional elections coordinators within France's Baard Region. He had a good heart no matter the political differences in terms of ideologies or preference. My condolences goes to his family, close comrades and friends.MAY HIS REVOLUTIONARY SOUL REST IN PEACE.🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭
~ Silence Njovu

27/07/2020

A LESSON IN HOW TO GRAPPLE WITH CONTRADICTIONS: MY MOMENTS WITH NTATE ERIC KHOTSENG, BY VELI MBELE, 23 JULY 2020

"To criticise the people's shortcomings is necessary, . . . but in doing so we must truly take the stand of the people and speak out of whole-hearted eagerness to protect and educate them. To treat comrades like enemies is to go over to the stand of the enemy." -Mao Tse Tung

Talks at the Yenan Forum on Literature and Art" (May 1942), Selected Works, Vol. III, p. 92.

Dear Ntate Khotseng,

From one political activist to the other, I have chosen to anchor my reflections on my interaction with you on Mao Tse Tung's philosophical musings on the nature and character of what is called contradictions.

We are still digesting the news of your unexpected passing.Your departure comes at a time when we are experiencing an unprecedented number of deaths of Black people, who are close to us or servants of the Black Race.

The phenomenon of the Corona virus not withstanding, I am not sure if there is a much deeper explanation for what seems to be an era of accelerated and pervasive death, for us as Black people in South AfriKKKa.

In trying to make sense of this existential conundrum, I recently opined "As Black people, death has always been our pillow.It has been our blanket.It is the very bed we go to sleep in every night.Death is the very roof over heads.The very air we breathe".

Your death, has now just added to the weight of the mental labour that I have dedicated to this existential conundrum.I am sure you would have offered an incisive critique of my musings in this respect.

This is one of the attributes that attracted me to you: the precision with which you were able to split cognitive atoms.I wish to dedicate much of this reflection to the story behind the image that I have chosen to accompany this tribute.

As you may remember, this picture was taken at some restuarant on the Saturday of the 7 November, 2015, at the Diamond Pavilion mall, in Ga-Kgosi Galeshewe.

This was the day I met you for the first time off social media. Prior to our meeting, you and I had already crossed swords (cerebrally speaking), on a number of occasions on Facebook.

It was also on the same day that I met (for the first time) another Facebook friend of mine and Sister Nomonde Seeco (also at the Diamond Pavilion mall).Under the current circumstances, the context and character of our meeting is particularly important to me.

As stated, after numerous exchanges on Facebook, we agreed there may be greater value in us dedicating time to having a face-to-face interaction, off social media (an approach that experience has taught me always achieves much better results).

We then agreed that, when next I am in Ga-Kgosi Galeshewe, I will give you advanced notice so we can keep our promise to each other.As our Ancestors would have it, our first meeting happened on Saturday 7 November, 2015.

Me being me, I arrived much earlier than the appointed 12:00 pm and had already indicated to the Sister who was serving me that I was expecting someone to join me.

At about 11: 47 am, you walked in, flashing a smile and moving your arms almost boisterously.We exchanged a warm embrace and enquired on one another's well being.

We talked for over two hours and punctuated our conversation with drinks (non alcoholic for the record).Our conversation was relaxed in its temperament, but very comprehensive in its scope.

We spoke about our personal projects, our political activism and the state of our political movements (I was formally part of AZAPO at the time).

Unsurprisingly, we also reflected on the direction things were taking in South AfriKKKa and where we as a people are likely to be in a few years time.We also spoke about our shared passion for reading and reflective writing.

In that one moment that I spent with you, I got to learn a number things about and from you.One was that your sometimes ruthless mind was not necessarily a reflection of the essence of your personality.

That you had an incredible appreciation for incisive thought, reflection and literature.I could also gather that you sometimes were not as patient with people who may not grasp things at the same level that you were grasping them (this of course didn't make you an aberration).

I left our meeting with all sorts of additional positive impressions of you.Enhanced in my knowledge of you.One of them was that, you are an extremely gifted thinker and that you would be of much value in an institute for strategic reflection.

My own experience is that, in contemporary Afrika, Black political parties are not the ideal vessels for independent and critical Black political or philosophical thought.They are simply antithetical to this.

Your sudden departure doesn't just constitute an incalculable loss, but it is also monumentally tragic that we should lose someone of your calibre, at a time when critical and independent thought is increasingly being criminalised, by those who derive fraudulent financial and other forms of benefit, from the status quo.

I am grateful to my Ancestors and yours for making it possible for our paths to cross.I consider myself privileged to have had the honour of sitting down with you (away from the pretense and insincerity of social media exchanges).

The privilege to get into the soul of your mind.The privilege to hear your voice and not just read your words.The privilege to hear you laugh and understand that behind your often scathing political treatises-is just a Black man like me, nothing more, nothing less.

The privilege that someone far older than me would see value in taking time off their schedule just so they could sit and talk to me.I really appreciate the respect Grootman.

In my view, one of the most enduring lessons that your life taught is how we must handle the contractions between ourselves and others.This is a complex and permanent struggle in our relations with others.

Being a man of text like me, I suspect you would appreciate it if I conclude in the same manner that I opened, by once again leaning on the wisdom of Chairman Mao.

In his seminal essay titled 'On Contradiction' (August 1937),Selected Works, Vol.I, p. 344, he writes:

Contradiction and struggle are universal and absolute, but the methods of resolving contradictions, that is, the forms of struggle, differ according to the differences in the nature of the contradictions. Some contradictions are characterized by open antagonism and others are not. In accordance with the concrete development of things, some contradictions, which were originally non-antagonistic, develop into antagonistic ones, while others which were originally antagonistic develop into non-antagonistic ones.

My heartfelt condolences go to your family, friends, comrades and movement, the African National Congress. Thank you for all the lessons.Ours was but a brief moment but one that lingers nevertheless.Go well Son of The Land! Go well!

Camagu❤🖤💚

Veli Mbele is an Afrocentric essayist, political historian and secretary of the Black Power Front

24/07/2020

This is a central communication platform for notices with regard to the funeral proceedings of our late Son, Father, Uncle, Brother, Friend and Comrade, Eric Laro Khotseng.

Due to Covid-19 lockdown regulations, not everyone will be able to attend the funeral or have an opportunity to visit to family to support them during this difficult times, we therefore encourage everyone to write their messages of support and encouragement on this page, leaving their memoirs with Eric Laro Khotseng on this page.

The virtual funeral proceedings will be centrally broadcasted from this page. We encourage you to kindly share this page with friends and comrades of our late Father so that they are able to pay their last respect.

We thank you