If you are reading this then it means I didn’t make it. The ‘Dezemba, Boss’ fever got the better of me and I lacked the resilience to resist it. But in reading this, I hope that you will learn from my defeat and find a way to survive this relentless monster. I hope that you will manage to stay sane until this hype subsides (provided you haven’t already started blowing your 13th cheque on superfluous things such as expensive booze, choice assorted biscuits and family members who conveniently show up during this time of the year).

You see, I tried so desperately to not give in to “Dezemba’s” summoning. When I went to bed on the eve of the 1st of December, I made a vow to myself that I would “keep my head when all about me were seemingly losing theirs and blaming it on ‘Dezemba, boss’ “. But it was all in vain. I woke up the following morning feeling burdened, and that’s when I knew that nothing would be the same again – not until the beginning of January 2015 and most of us are broke. I could smell the shift in the air (my premonition was mainly due to morning breath riddled with booze and cigarettes). As I struggled to get out of bed, I reached for my phone and logged on to Twitter; naturally, my timeline was flooded with tweets donning the #KeDezembaBoss” hashtag. “Yes, we know it’s December. We have calendars”, I retaliated. The cynicism was futile.

ke dezemba boss

A few days passed and I was soon chanting, “Ke Dezemba, boss” with my fellow comrades in the debaucherous struggle, as we merrily drank ourselves to a stupor. Loud music blasted from the speakers as we jived and sang along to the obscene lyrics of what is most likely to be song of the year. We continued in this fashion as hours turned into days, and days into weekends. Onlookers could swear we were in a trance of some sort. Before we knew it, we were soon calling in sick from work or dismissing it altogether.

The ‘Ke Dezemba, boss’ fever was quickly gaining momentum and there was nothing I could do about it besides become a statistic to its brutality. From giving my boss the “Floyd Shivambu” in front of very important clients at the company’s Christmas party, to “flashing” a cop after being pulled over for driving under the influence while tweeting, ‘Dezemba’ was doing everything in its power to ensure that I was far gone. Boss.

And now I sit here, on my second bottle of single malt whiskey, with no recollection of when or how I blew my 13th cheque and more than half of my salary. I’ll have to arrange for a fast, little loan soon before the end of the month as I barely have enough money for petrol to go back to work in January. Then there’s the small issue of the warning that awaits me for “insubordination”. My final words to you, if you hear anyone say “ke Dezemba, boss”, run. Run and don’t look back!

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