Live streaming the apocalypse.

live streaming the apocolypse

By Abongile Mayana

The sky we had once looked up at with awe and longing now only offers us fear. It’s burning. The stars fall down to the earth in fiery heaps of destruction.

We’ve positioned ourselves on a roof, all the better to bear witness to the chaos. The girl beside me captures it all live through her phone in 4k resolution. People flood the streets; screams pierce the air as they flee in desperation. Fleeing to where I can’t say, any and all safety flew out the window ages ago.

In a last-ditch effort to taste blood, some have even resorted to violence. Our capacity for it has never wavered, why should it now?

Others have begun looting in order to satisfy the ever-present allures. Police units do all they can to control the situation. And by all they can I mean nothing.

We see a family pack up what remains of their lives into their car. The mother attempts to calm her bawling children who probably understand more than she realises. The father starts the engine, ready to go.

Acts of futility, all of it.

I think of my own family. Most likely at home, perched on the couch, hand in hand, watching televangelists profess that the wrath of God has finally arrived. Maybe even a host of angels will descend from heaven any minute now and deliver His word. Unless, of course, He decides to pull through Himself. Wouldn’t that be a crazy sight?

The girl’s attention remains fixed on the phone, as if it is the only way she can digest what is happening around us.

“What’s the point of that?” I ask.

“We’ve documented pretty much everything else,” she replies. “Why not the end?”

The end…

“I thought we had more time. There’s still so much left undone,” I say. “There’s no time. Tuck the past and the future away, and just be here for this. It’ll be over soon.”

She takes my hand.

The stars continue to rain down, the screaming continues, the chaos merges and slowly lulls me into a beautiful reverie.

In the distance we see buildings crumble and the ground erupts. In the next moment our lungs collapse, and everything is gone.

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SEPTEMBER 2021

Greetings: Abongile Mayana|OldJohn: Mbulelo Mbiphi|The house they built: Buddist Niffy|Adorn: Abongile Mayana & Juanito Featherstone Segue Costiera: Bianca Iannucci|Hope has a name: Kgosietsile Leburu|Conversations between the id & superego: Chakaza Dlamini| ignoramus: Qaphile Langa|Fresh Living: Vuna (Unathi Ngewu & Nomfundo Zulu)|A forest trail: Tumi Tsele|Cloth talk: Stfombolesihle Dlamini|Paroptic vision: Chakaza Dlamini|A rainy day in jozi: Samuel Sidnee Figueredo|Prosperity: Markan Andreas Nkhwazi|Spoken Consciousness: Kidz of Biko|Cycle: Abongile Mayana|Arsenic 33: Loui with an “e”|An isolated dichotomy: Liam Jordan Wright| uMalkom noMeri: Pamela Dyantyi|From a distance: Katarzyna Wiktorski|Live streaming the apocalypse: Abongile Mayana| Cover and designer: Qaphile Langa|Celebrating a year of CHAMAELEON COLLECTION|aesthetikselektor volume 2 WHAT WE ARE DOING IS IMPORTANT.