Tag: Creative writing
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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…
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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.…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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.”…
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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…
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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…
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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…
Diary of a Wanderer 