So people were all cut up about ProKid’s death until they heard where exactly he was when he died.
ProKid is a South African vernac rapper. His stuff was decent if you’re into that sorta thing. I was there for it. Bhampa and Sekele were my favourite ProKid jams.
When news broke that he had passed away, condolences littered social media. He became profile pictures, Twitter names changed and #RIPProKid was trending.
The initial conversation was about how he was so talented and that celebs should have supported his music more. Popular opinion was that he died poor and something about the plight of artists dying bankrupt.
We were sad about ProKid.
And then the news sites ran a story about where exactly he spent his final moments. All respect for the dead flew out the window. Turns out ProKid passed away at the Mistress’s residence where he had been residing for close to a week. Social media was up in flames.
Would you go collect your spouse’s corpse from his side chick’s house?
I would. I can’t explain why but I would go fetch his corpse from her house, bring him home, wear the black dress and mourn him from the mattress. I would give him a decent send off. He can no longer hurt me from where he is going. He didn’t just leave the mistress, he left me too and this time he isn’t coming home to either of us.
But there’s another side of me. The side that mental institutions would like to place in solitary confinement. That side of me would react very differently.
The good book says “Let the dead bury the dead.” Who am I to oppose the gospel truth? I wouldn’t go fetch him. I wouldn’t mourn him. I would lock up the house and go ghost like a nigga did. You will search high, you will search low but you wouldn’t find me. Probably go on vacation find a new kid for my block and only return after the burial.
If you were the wife, what would you do?