Tag: Creative writing
-
The road to Damascus -page 8
It’s Friday night. Tired of being indoors with annoying roommates so I step outside to catch some fresh air, and suddenly remember the little park on the campus of a university behind my hostel. Lovers and benches. Singles like me are certainly not welcome into such spaces, yet I impose myself. In a far corner…
-
Temptations awakening
I decide to not knock on his door before going to church. I shouldn’t be the one to always remind him to go to church. He’s an adult. And he knows the route to church. I hear him on the phone in his room. Perhaps talking to another of his many girls. I wonder what…
-
The road to Damascus -page 7
Finally, I get to campus. And just as I predicted, our presentation was a disaster. I think of great football teams. They don’t win every match they play. But the good and bad days add to the collection of memories that unite them, and serve as reservoirs of hope and lessons for the future. After…
-
a stream of pure talent
people reproduce themselvesin their worksand sometimes,possessions mirror something in their owners haven’t you noticedhow so much musicis filled with messages to haters?what was supposed to be a streamof pure talentfor us to draw layers of meaningshas become colored with the hate, bitterness, violence that’s been stewing during the rise tell me creative works are outletsfor…
-
The one who returns
It’s Our Daythe last day of the semester for pupilsevery child carries a basket of food, drinks and smiles, dancing cheerfully and tugging at their parents’ dressheading to school my little sister watch them pass byshe’s told mom she won’t be goingwhich is so unlike herunlike the restI watch her, thinkingperhaps God is shielding her…
-
Jérusalem
Can’t remember who died. But what I do remember clearly was that it was a big funeral that brought many of our relatives in neighboring Togo to our village. The ceremony extended from dusk to dawn. Even the generator that powered the mics and lamps all night became hoarse. The funeral grounds was the only…
-
The road to Damascus -page 6
So many things on my mind this morning. We have a presentation, and my group is poorly prepared. I am thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and psyching myself for them. My group members had other assignments and couldn’t give their all to this one. Lectures starts at 9am. It’s 8:30 and…
-
Love
loveit leaks a part of you stored away and forgotten the joy of finding that spillageis like seeing money in a pocket of an old trouseron a day you’re very broke everyone in your world becomes a strangerwhose strange language of caution is unintelligible love is a button that when pressed, momentarily pauses your inclination…
-
Temporary escape
The tourist site we were to visit was changed at the last minute, a day before the D-day. Naturally, our youth leader was furious. He was making the final announcements in church on Sunday afternoon when suddenly the changed destination was mentioned by a woman in the congregation, confirmed by the mother of the assistant…
-
opening the cage
my departure time approachesmy heart pulsates with anticipationit all seems like an unbelievable dream and the sight oftravelers verifying ticketsarriving taxis offloading luggagefinely dressed passengers finishing off goodbye messages to onlookers who came to see them off sends gentle shock waves of excitement throughout my body as varieties of whiffs of sweet-scented perfumes whisk past…
-
The road to Damascus -page 5
I used to attend one of the top senior high schools in the country. Everything there was unlike its reputation. Many teachers were mostly absent from their post, and whenever they showed up in class, half of their teaching hours were dedicated to sharing jokes that had nothing to do with the lesson at hand.…
-
Retracing the steps – 5
For a long time, I kept turning down girls who were interested in me. I thought their expressions of love were immoral. That was what my Christian upbringing made me believe. In my little head and small mind, all I saw was me waiting for that day when I had my own apartment, a secure…
-
Sandra
As I descended the narrow hilly road leading home, I tried to imagine the scene behind me. The shop that was always open and yet I never saw any customer buying anything from it, the fenced land overgrown with weed, the house where funeral canopies, drums and decorations were rented out, and the main road…
-
The road to Damascus -page 4/100
In politics, especially in my part of the world, popularity matters. Doesn’t matter if you’ve murdered the only Son of our Holy Mother. Once you’re popular and affiliated to one of the key political parties, you stand a chance. And as I head home after class, I contemplate on how politics works in this country…
-
inferior
a foot in its bellyhands feeling its tips and sidesthe tweaking foot pausesseems a fitlots and lots of hagglingand counting of what looked like crumpled sweat-softened notesfinally, off the shelf and into a polybaggoing through twists and turns blindfoldedthen into a new home, unto a new shelfnights and days pass bythen the familiar feet returntheir…
-
The confinement
I did not know the couple were childless. I had assumed they were recently married. And so when I got the mild rebuke to stop being friendly towards the children on the compound, it made no sense to me. “This is my spiritual father. He came all the way from Mali to attend my wedding.”…
-
The road to Damascus -page 3/100
I still remember the first day of class. Used money I was supposed to save, to buy myself fine clothes and shoes, and a new phone. I hadn’t updated my closet in years. That was what I told myself. And it was true. But the real motive sitting at the bottom of my heart was…
-
strange times
It all started with village folktales. Of ghosts loitering in the silence of midnight, stalking a wandering stranger or a lone recalcitrant youth returning home late. As mother lowered the wick of the lantern, the darkness in the room loomed large. I shut my eyes tight, careful to not think about dark tales of the…
-
The road to Damascus -page 2/100
News from home. Father has been transferred. To pastor a new church. In another town many miles away. Perhaps we should be happy. But we have no reason to be. It’s just a change from one problem to the same problem wearing a different face. In accompanying our father on his missions, we see how…
-
a howling wasteland
tied to a treewas the kidnapped queenwincing at the mirage of advancing horsesmirage of a rescue teamdaunting reality of massive losses her chief magician chantshis voice echoing in the howling wastelanda figure in a picture enlarges into a real beinglike a fast-forwarded movieon rewind to a slow motion scene wearing her crown of planetsthe great…
-
Isn’t a struggle a story ?
I stare at the picture,wondering what to write,noticing my first lines do not rhyme and have no consistent metre I question my motives.To express, or impress ?Maybe I digressto thoughts with no themes. Isn’t a struggle a story?Shouldn’t this writers’ blockbe time to pause,to see beauty even in what seems sordid? https://wp.me/paf3ao-n9y
-
spill your feelings
have your loose lipsbegun lootingyour chances of success,turning potential into worst nightmares? does your intuitiontell you you’re contributingto your slow progressand growing distress? keeping a secret can be toughlike an irresistible coughfor some, keeping a small circlecan be a major hurdle but for your own goodalways confide in a bookfew people really careabout your welfare…
-
same sleep unites them
they gave her water and clayand she molded out history and storiessitting in the soil for centuries… they went to bed at different timesbut the same sleep unites them different facessculpted on different daysmolded out of same clay Different beginnings Same tale from dust they camenaked and not ashamedone by one they withered and felllike…
-
Sunday night drama
I turned to find mother crying. I did not understand why. But I always kept the incident in my heart, together with the storyline of the movie we were watching that day. When I was a child, every Sunday night there was this programme on television by name “Akan Drama”. It happened that on one…
-
night falls with its eyesores
as night falls with its eyesoreshawling memories of the day beyond the horizonhordes of people return homesome to mess, and debtsmurmuring in low tonesothers return with relief,glad to have found the holy paycheckto purchase their daily breadand peacesinging Hallelujahloud enough to be heardeven in Californiabut however your day may beI hope the lessons can be…
-
Pauline
She was lousy. Or so we all thought. Until she traveled. The first few days after her departure, relief! Finally, no more noise and fights and taunts in our ears. Her voice was loud. She was the first person I met on the compound when I moved in. She sounded nice and friendly, and the…
-
Her name is Samira -part 2
Genuinely, I meant every promise I made. But fate was bent on testing every alphabet in my words. It all started with the withholding of my salary over some friction I had with the secretary. He made some deductions from my salary because I was absent without permission. I explained that I was too ill…
-
aftermath
aftermath of warbodies scattered across the streetlike a child’s doodling on a sheeta beast sniffs the corpse of a woman a second beast is sucking her left breast protruding through a tattered dress she worethe remains of what was once a Canaanthe promised land of the nomads
-
Her name is Samira
My weakness was that I couldn’t be discreet. Which was why when I fell in love with the cook, the affair was like an open secret. Was it love? I couldn’t tell what label to put on a mixture of lust, loneliness and desperation. She didn’t resist my advances, neither did she give me the…
-
Filthy, bloody hands
wolves hide in beautiful sheep clothingigniting senseless wars in the Name of God How dare you stain the Holy Name of God with your filthy, bloody hands? God does not hire anyone to fight His battlesHe has an innumerable army of angels at His command His pleasure is to see brothers and sisters live in…
-
He is risen -Happy Easter!
never heard of a lambthat served as a lampguiding the feet of men and of women off the paths of hell the prophets of old did predictthat his death will reverse the evil verdictsin has brought upon usif the promise of eternal life were a lieHe would not riseand our faith would be in vainand…
-
fishing in new waters
Flies. They wouldn’t let the sores of a dog be. And the poor dog is forced to stay in motion to ward them off, all along jerking, flicking, tossing its head -all the frantic head shakes its creative mind could conjure. And yet, the savage flies pursue with renewed sadistic zeal. The dog stops and…
-
they’ll see you rise
like the sun they’ll see you risethe fake, foes and fraudsters who sawyou weep, crawl and beg will falltheir faces abraded likemetal gods scrubbed with wire gauze here, no vest is bulletproofjust bodies taking in bulletstill they feel tipsy and staggeran unsettling truthmakes the most vocal stutter but this is the furnace in which the…
-
Refuse to bend
life wields a set of unfortunate incidents into a powerful anvil against which I am being struck the strikes are persistent and slow, draining me of every urge to hold on the clinical, persistent strikes linger, my resilience is a palpable mass of bleeding mess It pays to be patientbut patience is difficult to masterrequires…
-
We always smell it from afar
Back then, we knew nothing about sexual harassment. All we knew was that teacher Musah loved Mansa and we all envied her whenever she walked about the school head high like a princess. Many ugly girls in the school winced at the thought of not having half her beauty. That Mansa was a minor, we…
-
Red wine
For me, red wine is symbolic of pleasant memories. It was a windy Sunday afternoon in late December. I did not go to church that day. My habit whenever I didn’t have money for offertory. Or felt guilty of a secret sin. Feeling bored, I lay in my room on my little mattress spread on…
-
Default mode
when the path ahead is shrouded in fogsome resort to motivation woven into songsor written on wallsto help calm their fearsfor us, inspirationis written on our genesLike instincts written into the minds of insectsnever-giving up is our default modeworking in silence the codeeven when we’re brokewe’re still paying the price of victory
-
Noise
She keeps talking and distracting my thoughts, and doesn’t seem to notice the cues I keep dropping to indicate it’s not a good time for chitchat. My approach has always been indirect when it comes to telling people things they won’t be comfortable hearing. But in my mind, the message sits there, in its crude…
-
While it rained
It was raining heavily. I sat on the floor, my back against the bed, staring through the open window at the palm fronds swaying in the strong winds. The room still had a bit of the afternoon warmth, which was yet to give way to the cold outside. I thought of my flatmate who was…
-
They all know
From the moment the cup is handed to one of them, they all know that the recipient is going to be the hitsong maker of that year. They never had disagreements among themselves like other categories of artists were fond of doing on social media, and were always cited as role models, until a video…
-
Her late husband
She believed he always loved her. They had little misunderstandings like every other couple, but it was never the kind that escalated into an acrimony that involved the external family, something that threatened a breakup. And many could attest to how he was so fond of her. He wasn’t a billionaire, but he did everything…
-
The tricky top
seems simple stepsthese tedious tasksthese tragic trekspacked phony pathssuch savage slopesslow stressful streakshurt hollow hopeswild windy weeksdark doleful daysmad mystic mazeposh pleasant peak https://wp.me/paf3ao-mTO
-
The rocks and the trees have become one
on this mountainthe trees,like tourists,come and gobut the rocks never diethey’ve been lying here watching the once mighty waterfallage and shrink even the tallest of trees come and gonone lives foreverthe rocksthey have always been here from the beginningbut the presence of the invading treeshave left marks on the mighty rockslike signatures of passing timeset in…
-
There will be bloodshed
He predicted that there will be bloodshed. Nothing like the nation ever saw. A few months after his wild predictions, he died. Nobody thought much about him or his prophecies of doom. Until ten years later. The first of his predictions was slowly turning into reality, like the seedling of a young plant indistinguishable from…
-
boredom is a blessing
boredom is a blessingfertile grounds for sowingconsistent habits into daily routines just aseverything has a nameso doeseverything has its place just aseveryone has their tastesso doeseveryone has their pace soevery time you face delaysin your hasty climb to famejustlock your focus onto that Rock of AgesWho never fails, never shames, never wanes
-
She imagines
She imagines what it means to have a mother. Hers died while bringing her into the world. Like some marathon, she was handed the baton. And here she was, wondering what this race is all about. She recalls the many times she’s hanged unto someone she considered a mom. It didn’t take long to see…
-
The watch uncle gave me
Mother had traveled. And upon returning, she brought me a toy phone and a wrist watch. Gifts from Uncle T. Normally, uncle would be called on the phone for me to say ‘thank you’ to him. But phones were not common those days, and my parents didn’t have one. Imagine my joy having a phone…
-
Mouchidath and Yasa
From our conversations, I inferred that she wanted to marry someone older than she was, someone more financially stable. I was surprised she thought of giving Yasa a chance. Yasa was much younger. Perhaps it was because he had money. I wouldn’t say she was materialistic. Yasa had helped her a lot. He got her…
-
The still small voice
a still small voicespeaking to you in what seems likeyour own voiceyour own thoughts Nudging you to let goof the water slipping out of your clenched fistof hard efforts that have come to nothing a still small voicethat’s always lived with youinvisible like the windstealth like movements in the dark yet each time it speaksit’s…
-
I will get there
I munch food noisily. Not deliberately. Naturally. I did not know this. I’ve been living alone and I had never paid attention. Until I found myself at a dinner, in the midst of respectable people, with no music to mask anything. The discovery was embarrassing. There and then I had to practice eating in a…
-
Butukwen and his mother
Her son had a challenge. Physically, he was alright. Mentally, he was unstable, couldn’t sit at one place and behaved more like a toddler for his age. Personally, I felt his mother should have looked for a personal teacher for him, a teacher who taught him at home. Or maybe, the school should have separate…
-
This too shall pass
We all acted ok, but deep down things looked bleak. My friend was sick, and I could see that though we were both broke, his situation was worse. He had no money, no food, nothing to buy even a leaf to cure himself. The note in my pocket was my last flour and oil to…
-
Sack of trouble
Outside were parked beautiful cars belonging to students, and the entrance of the new hostel was busy with students moving in and out. Some from shopping malls holding with them fancy shopping bags loaded with provisions, others were moving in, aided by the porters who carried their fridges, microwave ovens or giant fluffy teddy bears…
-
Tension
The receptionists were new. I exploited their inability to distinguish guests from staff. Slowly, I approach their desk. A stranger desperate to bypass them without being checked will try hurrying past while they were attending to some visitors, and this usually aroused their suspicions. I’ve been observing all this from a distance. And so, I…
-
The new preacher
I stared at the WhatsApp post for a while. Of course I recognized the face. An old classmate. Lost touch with him since we completed school many years ago. Here he was, on the WhatsApp status of a close friend, posing as a preacher. I found it hard to accept the change. That boy has…
-
Last time I saw Uncle Maduk
The last time I saw Uncle Maduk, he told me he knew he wasn’t going to survive the operation, and that by the time I am back for the next holidays, he might be no more. He thanked me for constantly paying him visits, bringing him fruits despite the rumors that he was an evil…
-
Expedition to Mango heights
It was a long wall along a busy road. We stood by the wall, waiting, patiently. There always came a moment the busy road became quiet, kind of deserted. The very moment we were looking forward to. Ali bent, I stood on his bent back, and yet couldn’t properly reach the top of the wall.…
-
At the prayer grounds
You see all kinds of things at the prayer grounds. Done praying. And as I gather my mat and double my steps through the thick bushes, I contemplate on the porridge in my locker that I intended using to break my fast, my thoughts distracted by the diverse prayer groups dispersed under various trees on…
-
Another rengay with ❤️David❤️
I strongly believe we can do so much by harnessing our energies, by putting ideas and efforts together. It’s a beautiful thing participating in picture prompts like the one by Sadje every Monday. And when writers reach out to other writers for collaboration, fireworks happen. It was such an honour participating in another rengay with…
-
New year, same motions?
She asked if I haven’t become tired of the motions of 31st all-night church services where new year resolutions and prayers are made for a year that promises much but delivers nothing. Perhaps, frustrations were providing her the lens to see things with such clarity. I try to cheer her up by saying a consistent…
-
Only believe
I’ve come to what seems like my endwhere patched hopes refuse to mendbarriers refuse to bendthe raging sea in my pathrefuses to part and all I hear in the midst of the rising tidesis a still small voice reminding meto only believe Holding onfeels like waiting for stones to ripenI do not know if I…
-
In the shadows
In the shadows of every shadeAn unseen plaque with the nameOf a thoughtful sower In the success of many homesThe unheard creaking bonesOf a thoughtful shoulder Same sower and seed scenarioReplayed, retoldWisdom, wasting, waitingTo be emulated
-
Dawn prayers
Was woken up at dawn. Had to listen for a while before I knew what the noise was all about. Dawn prayers. At this point they were in the middle of a sermon. Was about to return to my sleep when I heard something amusing. The preacher was talking about how we black people are…
-
bending bars
the opening line of a new poem comes to mindI write it down impressiveinspiringout of the blue I think of what should followseveral attempts, no progressI doze off, wake up, continueputting many activities on hold still no progresscan’t think of a sensible continuation frustration days pass byI sit, rise, pace, take a break, return, take…
-
gods of justice in their element
chunks of gingerthat have missed the teeth of a blenderhave found their way into Mom’s soupDisguised among the chunks of smoked fish and salted meatawaiting an unsuspecting victimwhose feet are tiptoeing towards the kitchengently opening the doorlistening hard for mom’s voice which is busy in the living room shouting on some sordid character on TVTV…
-
The restaurant at the foot of a hill
The restaurant stood at the foot of a hill. I had passed there several times without noticing it, partly because I was new to the area. Initially, I was skeptical about the quality of their meals. But they gave me good reasons to become a regular customer. Lunch time, you were sure to find me…
-
Snow-capped mountains
Snow-capped mountainsSnaky pathsSoldiers thrudging through themLike driver antsMiles from homeLonging for all the little pleasures back homeThey once took for grantedSome mutter words to a rosary on their neck,Some chutter indistinct sounds to curved figures in their handsSome kiss amidst tears photos of loved oneswounded or blown apartThey hope a piece of them will returnTo…
-
dry your tears
He’s asked that she dry her tears and smilebut how can she, in the midst of so much pain?while they talk, she’s distractedby the singing of her patientsa favorite song of her lover gone on a long journeywhose many letters have trickled to a fewthe song comes to herlike some lonesome puppy recognizing its master…
-
The letter to Daouda
she thought she carried good newsshe’s been sent to deliver a lettershe, an illiteratethere in his office she stoodwaiting for him to read and replythe wilting joy on the face of the readertells her something isn’t rightslowly, the initial smile on his face fermentsinto a sad, bitter face, polluting her initial joy tooshe waits as…
-
The anus of a fowl
He was planted among us on purpose, but we did not know. He came across as honest, complaining just like the rest of us of the hardships we all faced. We assumed he was one of us. It started with my resignation. He was the first to call. I still remember where I was when…
-
Fireworks and chilly winds
fireworks, chilly windsI lay in bed, lying on my sidefacing the open windowa moonless sky lit with sparkling starsChristmas is a month awaybut I can smell it miles awaythinkingof all the thingsand peoplethat have come and gonethinkingof my life nowand what is to come ………………………………………………….. Email:Benjaminnambu1@gmail.com WhatsApp:+233 541 824 839
-
to the hospital
It’s my birthday. Unfortunately, I will be spending it in the hospital. Following my instincts, I do not leave early. Which is something nobody would do. Because, our hospitals are famous for having too many patients than any number of doctors can handle.Patients tend to rise early to make it to the hospital on time.…
-
songs of a folktale
all eyes on the new moonas we sang, clapped and dancedsongs of a folktale about the moon and the sunmotherswho decided to slaughter their children for a meal during a famineThe sun was the first, sacrificing her children but the wise moon loved her children and wouldn’t when it was her turnThe furious sun now…
-
first TV in my village
The first person to buy a television in my village was the envy of village gossipers for months. Clansmen who lived in distant places heard of the new wonder. The excitement in the village was electrifying. The man at the center of the news was a womanizer. Imagine how easily he magnetized desperate women longing…
-
Wandering in the woods
A quiet afternoon. Two lovers drift into woods nearby. Intermittent giggling echoes through trees as they run on, as if to escape the prying eyes of the sun searching through trees swaying in the late Friday afternoon winds. It looked dangerous from outside. Now that they were inside the jungle, they saw things differently. The…
-
sticks in my ears
a wet rug was placed over the hot lantern chimneywhen the rug had soaked up enough heat and could no longer breatheit was placed over the fresh wound on my legI squirmed, screamed and tossed in painThick arms gripped me, so that the wet, hot rug could engage in a long lick of my woundmother’s…
-
End of play
We had been rehearsing for weeks, although I had no clue what it all meant and for what occasion. But from the repeated motions day in day out, I figured out some pieces of the puzzle : it was a play about a baby who was to be visited by shepherds. Who this baby was…
-
wake every beast
honed every skilltried every trickcombed every streetwoke every beastcrossed every seatossed every diceate every lielicked every woundpaid every duesplayed every tunedealt every cardtook every chanceknocked every doorfought every dogticked every box yet for all my effortsa harvest of winds but I keep pressing onunrelentingly https://wp.me/paf3ao-m3z
-
Gone with the wind
There are days nothing spectacular happen in our lives. Just routines. And yet one day we look back, and miss those ordinary times. Like I am looking back right now and seeing myself beside a tomato farm right behind our school wall. Almost everyday, while teaching in a classroom on the last floor, I stole…
-
The lone bird is done singing
The lone bird is done singing,and the migratory season is here.It has joined its clanto sail across the sky,to a new land. We cannot help but keep lookingwhere it once stood, singing.The lone bird is no more,only echoes of its voice. Like nicknamesof old high school friendsheld together in indelible inkagainst fading classroom walls,your name…
-
Bleak house
Already, they were suspicious. So, my going there was a gamble. Part of my reason for going there was to gain their trust. That was why when they offered me a meal, I did not hesitate to thank them and head towards the dinning table. They had eaten already, so I was the only one…
-
Nether regions of unfathomable defeat
I was always broke. And lonely. For four solid years. Just when I was headed straight for a bright new dawn at the end of the tunnel, I made a wrong move that sent me spiraling past the beginning of my tunnel into nether regions of unfathomable defeat. The morning of that unforgettable Monday it…
-
Mother
Mother,your sacrificesare unforgettablelike the lines and prints in my palms You saw valuein a premature babyAn infant many would have abandonedYou traveled in every direction for healersin search of herbal doctors to cure your son What many would have rejectedYou nurtured into a full grown man like me You were the colorin my colorful ChristmasesIf…
-
This nosy Tijani of ours
Watching him from the summer hut under which we grilled meat and prepared drinks to be served to customers reminded me of spy movies I watched a long time ago. He looked like a spy. Or maybe he was one. One could never be sure. We could predict when he’ll come, the things he was…
-
Thank you, David🙏
I had the opportunity of writing a rengay with David and it was fun. It was my first time writing one, and frankly I had never heard of the term. But David explained it to me and the rules governing these kinds of poems. It was initially challenging for me to think of saying much…
-
The psychologist
She said she couldn’t see anything in her dreams whenever she slept in a dark room. The lights must be on before she could make sense of anything in her dreams. “You mean when the lights in your room are out, there is neither sunshine or any ray of light in your dreams? “ the…
-
Holidays
Whenever we were caught up with so much work in the office, we longed for public holidays. Then like rain on thirsty lands, we receive some update on a WhatsApp platform or online news website: some public holiday had been announced and was lurking behind the uninformed, waiting to see their surprised looks and giggles…
-
I bring you blood
A cargo ship of hopesShipwreckedBeneath the sea’s toesLurkedGhosts of entrusted dreamsAnd progressHard-earnedSinking Foundations of steel sacrifices laidBricks of greed have replacedPaths of prosperity chartedOvergrown with weedAnd feetOf the coldhearted The Promiseland has become wastelandSince fallen heroes sankTo nether regionsAnd seasons have piled upon seasons The sea is no keeperOf wreckage it floatsBread cast upon the…
-
Can you feel the silence?
The resilience of a peopleCrushed into hateLike juice of grapesTettered to constant shellingAnd constant sellingOf half-truths and half-bakedRealities by the media Surgical scissors and needlesMay sew woundsBut they can’t cup deep enoughTo reach the brokenness withinTo sew and stitchBroken hopes and promises Can you feel the silenceOf budding innocent lives mowed downBegging us to join…
-
Echoes of a forgotten past
It was the kind of place everyone dreamt of goingNot because it was a place meant for the richBut because of the peace, quiet, calmJust something about the placeCalling the soul to come take a look at least onceIn a lifetimeSo many stories about the placeOf how great friends reconnected thereOf how people met the…
-
I prepare the food basket
As I hurried with the basket of food over my headin the direction of the farm, I imagine the scene awaiting me: Students scattered across acres of yam moundsSome tilling, others weeding, the majority (girls)carrying weeds further off the farmland to be burnt I arrive, after a long walk towards the outskirts of the village…
-
What could be going on in his mind?
A hunchback leans against the bark of a treeWatching football training sessions on a parkAs the bus I sat in circled a cornerI spot the smallish figure hiding behind the treeStealing every glance there is to gleanFrom the parkI stare, and wonderWhat could be going on in his mindDid he wish he could play like…
-
I have found a new classroom
I have always been eager to teach, to share, an enthusiasm that has eroded graduallyto reveal its true face : prideToday, I embark on a new journey, one of silence, of listening, of paying attentionI have missed many important lessons and sessions of growthwhile I was gone looking for new converts to discipleI have achieved…
-
My enemies have won
They said moans could be heard from the living room on the Sunday morning she died.It was a child playing on the compound who first heard her. Soon, many ears gathered. And eyes too, as they thronged the living room. There, Adzo, on the carpet floor, leaning against a sofa, her face and posture twisted…
-
Waiting, watching
This is a bus that goes to a city I once lived inA long time agoSeeing passengers getting ready to board itBrings back many memoriesMemories of hopes that never materializedAnd the blessings in disguise I now realizeNot many detours in life will be understoodThe bus leaves, I stare at the inscription behind itI imagine the…
-
Next step
The higher the heightThe deeper the discomfort of climbingThe next step is the reward of the previousThe longer the steps upwardsThe bigger the reward
-
So it has come to this
(I met a group of friends begging on the streets to support the family of their deceased friend in defraying the costs of burial, showing his picture to passersby. And I was inspired to write this poem) So it has come to thisBegging money on the streetsTo bury an old friendHis family sitsUnder empty canopiesWaiting…
-
The Blast
It was a normal day just like anyWe were busy about our activities It was even the anniversary of a giant telecommunications network All over town people were in their colours, jubilant It was probably late afternoon Suddenly, there was a blastLouder than a bombOr anything that could be imaginedIt was the sun itself that…
-
Potential
Didn’t know I had so much potential Till I started pushing myself To the limits It was hard at first But consistency lessened the burden Makes me wonder Just how many untapped reserves of creativity Are sleeping within Thanks to procrastination And unwillingness to break the limits Email:Benjaminnambu1@gmail.com WhatsApp: +233 541 824 839
Diary of a Wanderer 