This’ll be the day that i died

19 may ’96; On a late Sunday arvo in Durban in 1996 a paranoid schizophrenic slit my throat from behind and ran, his sole goal – murder.

Technically I died later in the hospital, had an adrenalin shot, was stitched up and I left, thinking if I’m going to die (again), I’d rather be at home, much to their concern.

When I got out of the taxi around 1a.m. it was dark and the streets to my flat were empty. I fell to my knees, toppled over and passed out. Coming to, groggy and paralyzed, I thought, well this is shit, dying alone in the street like some drunk vagrant (steady!). And I became very scared, the only time I was during the whole episode. Dying, alone.

Anyhoo, this is the flat I eventually made it to, and went to bed wondering if I’d ever wake up. My mate, who’s flat it was, wasn’t home. So, I was home alone. And on that point, Gawd bless your ol’ Bruce Lee bones Chas, taken from us far too early… p’saaa. A great mate to many folk, and bit of a legend – Rest in peace champ.

I Climbed these steps, pulling with my arms only, legs dragging limp behind.

Anyhoo, pt2, That’s what happened 19 May 1996. I’ve since written a book on it; Durban’s Bread, which is available on this site and on Amazon. But there are also exciting times ahead regarding that aspect… keep ’em peeled.

Meantime, I’m currently writing it’s prequal/ sequel Tales from the Hip which is available now as, an on going weekly, audio with text on request. – There, plug over