Diary of a Wanderer

Tag: Creative writing

  • Not my Africa!

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It was at the reading room I first met him. I couldn’t help but stare. At the dreadlocks. Dirty, unusually bushy, on his tiny, skinny skull. He stood out. In his shabby clothes. A sharp contrast to the atmosphere of decency and order and respect in a room filled with serious students. I wondered what…

  • Bull’s Testicle

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Times were hard. It was the kind of difficulty that forced enemies to collaborate and thrive. My friend Desmond and his roommates frequently fought. But during tough times like these, no one had energy for quarrels. Initially, Desmond phoned his parents. They were tired of his constant complaints of not having money. “What happened to…

  • The Outcast (Page 31)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    One day I returned from school and discovered that we had a visitor. But this visitor was unlike the others we’ve seen so far. This guest seemed to be everywhere…in the kitchen, living room, even in the bedroom of the head of the house. Who could she be? Then I heard the teenager call her…

  • The Outcast (Page 30)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    My new house was a relatively quiet one. The only mouth that spoke there was the head of the family. He speaks all the time and when everywhere was quiet, you knew he wasn’t around. It was a house of a man, his wife, a little boy (his nephew) and a teenager ( his niece).…

  • The Outcast (Page 29)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I still remember the first day I stepped into that house. It was a Sunday evening. We had finished taking supper and dad asked me to pack my belongings, he had spoken to an old friend and I could stay with his old friend to write my final exams. It would be just for a…

  • The last time we saw him

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in ,

    They said it wasn’t his time. That the accident abruptly ended his young life, and great dreams. They said the incident wasn’t normal. That was why the night he was proclaimed dead, no one could sleep in his house, as an invisible hand scattered bowls and plates in the kitchen, opened and closed doors in…

  • The Outcast (Page 28)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It wasn’t long before our luxurious life in the city started dwindling. It started with our driver. They said he had attitude. Or perhaps our parents couldn’t afford keeping him any longer. What does it matter? The dog wasn’t liked. Did it matter what bad name he was given or what river he going to…

  • Moving poetry

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Sometimes I sit beforeA blank sheet, wonderingWhat to put downPerhaps emptiness tooIs poetryAnd a blank mindA powerful proseBut how many would seeThe beautyIf I left the pages blankI fearMy script might be misinterpretedAnd I myself, misunderstoodBut I am determined to paintMy thoughtsHowever darkHowever brightMy hands shall always beIn motionFor such motion createsMoving poetry

  • The Outcast (Page 27)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    On Monday, we started school. Our new driver drove us to school, but dad went with us to ensure that the teachers recognized us and allowed us into our various classrooms. Mom prepared some rice and beef stew. By now, we had new lunch boxes and she served us. We were to take the rice…

  • University students

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    On our university campus, I can easily tell which level a student belongs to by his or her looks. First year students always look lost. They’re always asking for directions to various departments and hostels, even when they’re already standing at those places. Some can be seen staring at magnificent buildings on campus. Those ones…

  • The Outcast (Page 26)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It was Sunday. I noticed everywhere I’ve lived that, Sundays were always different from the other days of the week. The weather was usually cool and calm. The roads were often empty or less busy. And many shops were closed. You find groups of families at restaurants, beaches or on the compound of their homes,…

  • Life humbles the young and foolish.

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I knew a lady who operated a bar right behind my window. “If you make a complaint at the police station, they will shut it down. It’s against the law to set up a noisy business where people live.” a friend told me one day when he came to visit. The landlord overheard him but…

  • The Outcast (Page 25)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    We were returning home in the car of dad’s friend who had done a lot in the background to make our admission into the new school a success. While the two engaged in chit-chat, I surveyed the neighborhood in which the school was situated. Burma Camp. The name of the vicinity. Soldiers lived there. An…

  • The Outcast (Page 24)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    My first day at school. I repeated the words slowly to myself, wondering exactly what it meant while staring at the foolscap sheet on my desk. Could it be the first day I started schooling as a child, or my first day in their school? It could not be the latter. I was trying to…

  • A lot has changed

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Giovanni, a lot has changed since you left. Mango Street is no more what it used to be. Remember the spot where Alima and Saada fought one New Year eve? We woke up one morning to find a thief lynched and tied to an electric pole there. We did not know how the whole incident…

  • The Outcast (Page 23)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Back in my primary school in the northern part of the country, at the beginning of every academic year, there was always news of a close friend that had relocated to some big town or city with their parents. The relocations often happened so sudden that there was hardly time to say goodbye. I and…

  • The Outcast (Page 22)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    There was a digital clock in the bus. It told the time in red fonts. 1:15 Am. I had set off on this journey high on excitement. Now my tank was low. The journey to Accra was becoming longer than a journey to an illusion. “We are at Suhum….No….yes…say, fifteen to thirty minutes time we…

  • The Outcast (Page 21)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    As our bus left Pwalugu, the arid, scotchy north was growing dimmer in the driver’s mirror. We raced through stretches of desolated grasslands, meeting fewer and fewer cars, tractors and donkeys. Slowly, we were fading out of wastelands, the whirring of our bus tyres timing our progress. Occasionally, we bumped into police checkpoints. Sometimes, it…

  • Sophie

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Her job drives her nuts! She tries to keep calm, tries to act normal, tries to blend in with the others, but the cracks in the pretense are too visible. No wonder those who  worked there for over thirty years were tight friends with alcohol. At night, it’s hard to stay awake at work. And…

  • The Outcast (Page 20)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I sat by the window. Drawing the curtains slightly, I caught the final glimpses of our town as the bus snaked around the station before landing on the highway. The STC station was a collection of nim trees with a shed under which tickets were sold, where passengers and visitors could sit. Behind the shed…

  • Spanish riddles

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Slowly, the argument over triflesDwindles, in its place, gigglesHe nibbles at her nippy nipplesShock waves of pleasure ripplesAs she recites Spanish riddles A break from the toil won’t foilThe climb, neither will it soilThe mind, never does it spoilThe grind, it can be deployedTo fight fatigue like an android

  • Knight fall

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    At nightfall, the knight fellHumming a song wellKnown to sailorsKnitted into soothsayersBy unfortunate series of eventsBut an iroko can never be bentAnd so the knightRose and knifedThrough the stormy seasArriving at a harbor sealedIn fog, everyone breaks into tearsAs mariners turned masseursKnead his sore shouldersAnd sore cold ears

  • The Outcast (Page 19)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Our cousin Pomaa lived with us. Mother felt Pomaa had grown too big to be kneaded into her perfect model of a good girl. So, she sent her away. We were going to the city and a lot of old things and old ways had to be left behind. Unknown to us, Pomaa did not…

  • The Outcast (Page 18)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Whispers. I awoke. Sitting up, I looked around. The windows were open, cold winds ruffling the curtains. The lights were still on. Can’t remember when we dozed off. I rose to turn off the lights, and in the act caught a glimpse of the clock. 12:15am. The whispering must have been in my dreams. Or…

  • Mission Impossible

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Sarah and Cliff. They’d only been apart for a week and Cliff already had a new woman hanging off his arm. The news was hard to swallow, but it came from a reliable gossip. Cliff must be out of his mind! We set off to his house to give him a piece of our mind.…

  • Pages flipping

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    An album, pages flipping as its owner narrated the stories. Of how they met, when he proposed, how many times she turned him down even though she liked him, the games and finally the trophy, which is her ring she got for winning. “What about you, Paul”?“Me? ” I asked, stunned.” Yes! “” Tell us…

  • The Outcast (Page 17)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Whatever invisible hand that was behind the mysterious incidents had an audacious motive: crush the head, render the rest of the body powerless. Our father was the breadwinner of the family. Mother did odd jobs to support, but the income was fickle. I and my siblings were still young, and even most of the extended…

  • Date

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    She told a jokeAs she held up her cokeTo toastIt wasn’t funnyI raised my glass clumsilyAnd smiled, out of courtesy What is courtshipIf one cannot talk shitWithout burning a friendshipTo a crispTelling the truthAnd tight turns, in my hoodFeedback on cooked foodIs never done by the cook https://wp.me/p6HvcB-cbB

  • The Outcast (Page 16)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    We had a new headmaster, a retired district education officer. It seemed the most important lesson he’d learnt during his active years of service was that pupils ought to know hymns. “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild!…” he intoned. He sang it like it meant so much to him. I and my friend Karim would look…

  • Missing cigarettes

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I used to steal from my father’s pack of cigarettes. I hid somewhere to smoke. I remember the sensation as smoke escaped my lips, into the air. It felt great. Especially the effect of the heat on the tongue. This went on for weeks. Little did I know that the old man was aware but…

  • The Outcast (Page 15)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    One day, I was in class seated beside the window, reading a book, when suddenly someone appeared behind the window. “Patrick! Patrick !” a voice whispered, slipping a little paper into my hand as I turned. It was a boy. Before I could open the paper to read its contents, he vanished. A love letter.…

  • Renewable marriage contract ( Published at The Writers Club)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I am pleased to announce the publication of my fictional piece “Renewable marriage contract” by The Writers Club. I am deeply grateful to the Editor and the team at The Writers Club for showsasing my work. Here is the link to the story : https://greythoughts.info/clubpieces/renewal-marriage-contract

  • The Outcast (Page 14)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    School resumed today. We resumed to dusty classrooms clogged with cobwebs. To old friends who couldn’t wait to share their Christmas experiences. To newcomers around whom we had to act civilised till we were comfortable enough to display our savage side. There were petty quarrels here and there about who owned what desk. But Master…

  • The Outcast (Page 13)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    New year morning was quiet. Many were tired. School would resume in a few days time but already, I had heard a lot of rumors. That the headmistress had a heated argument with the school proprietor and was sacked. That Willie’s parents had been transferred to the capital Accra, hence he wouldn’t be joining us…

  • The Outcast ( Page 12 )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Pastor Elvis realized that most of the congregation struggled to stay awake. A lot had gone into preparing a special sermon for the last night of the year. Prayer. Fasting. Waiting on the Lord. And it hurt to see people snoring and not paying attention after such efforts. So, in the middle of his preaching,…

  • The Outcast ( Page 11 )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    People talked about the current year as if it were some comet, slowly transporting us into a new year, a new planet where the sun’s rays switched from yellow to green, where perhaps poverty, sicknesses, and death were no more. A new year comes, and same old faces, same neighborhood, same life, same misery. And…

  • The Outcast ( Page 10 )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Christmas day. The fresh breeze and the bright blue morning light of the tropics looked like a simulation of a fairy world. We woke  up to fireworks, amidst “Feliz Navidad” and “Jingle bells” from different corners of our neighborhood. Our first task in the morning as kids was to sweep the rooms and our compound.…

  • The Outcast ( Page 9 )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Christmas seasons were memorable times. There were a number of reasons why. Certain animation movies were only shown around Christmas time, and they were super exciting to watch. There were special family movies around the same time. I remember one Sunday we returned from Sunday school to meet an unusual film on Ghana Television. It…

  • The Outcast ( Page 7 )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    A few weeks after my election as class prefect, we had exams. End of term examination. All desks were spaced out. No copying. And we were to take our bags outside the class. Our teacher invigilated. Before every paper, he would write the subject and the duration of the paper on the board. In the…

  • The Outcast ( Page 5)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Tuesday morning. Time for school. After staying at home for some days, my fees were finally paid. My siblings were lucky, theirs had been paid before those who owed fees were dismissed from school. Now, a certain picture was taking shape in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it…

  • The Outcast ( Page 3)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I was finally home. Without changing my uniform, I went straight to the TV. Thankfully, my parents were out. Serving myself a steamy plate of jollof rice and a glass of chilled Zonkom, a local drink mother had made the previous day, I sat down to enjoy my meal and the nollywood thriller on Metro…

  • The Outcast ( Page 2 )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Teaching usually started after 8am, right after morning assembly. And the hours before classes started, they were called “silence hour”. During this period, pupils who were present at school were numbered. The teachers on duty for the week would then storm classroom after classroom in the course of the day, fishing out late comers and…

  • The Outcast ( Page 1)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    “J’ai envie de t’adorer ! ” A piercing voice echoed through the chilly harmattan. “Ready, sing!” The prefect on duty conducted. Soon, a million croaking voices chanted madly. “Stop! Stop!…” One teacher interrupted, a couple of whips landing simultaneously on the backs of Tunde and Tijani who were disrupting proceedings at the morning assembly. We…

  • Dilemma

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    The fortune-teller reshuffled the cardsI pulled out oneA bereaved sparrow on a rooftopNot a good cardI contemplated the contents for a whilebefore handing it backDropping a coin into his bowlI walked awaytoo saddened to be distractedby the sudden commotionat the market square Why invest in somethingThat will only be washed awayOver timeLike a sand castle…

  • This is your land

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    This land belongs to all of usLet us not sit idleAnd watch savage dogsTear it apartIf our leader is an iron beastWith no emotionsWe must show himThe road to the zooWe may fly to greener pasturesBut let us rememberTo come back homeAnd build our motherlandin rubblesThanks to talented thievesin our officesWith long noses and empty…

  • Bloom with cheerfulness

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Funtime and sunshinePotions to help cope with daily motionsDon’t wanna look back when oldWondering, where did the days go?My wrinkled face, an attraction of gloominessLike money magnet Why let time slip byWhile you sit, doting on silly notionsSpread from head to toeThat all worries must lose teeth and holdOn your happinessBefore you can bloom with…

  • One starless night

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Dark melodies, playing over and over all night from a nearby cottage. Anna sat in their little farmhouse, attention fixed on Grandpa recounting dreadful tales best left untold, and hoping that evil spirits will catch a whiff of the incense mother was burning and be warded off. “For years she had no news of her…

  • On the airwaves

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It’s Earl Nightingale on the airwaves and his talks of strange secrets.As I listen, my mind wonder off. It’s been three years now since I left home for greener pastures. The pasture here is no greener than that of home. Damn! And I haven’t saved. Only once have I sent money home. Shame on me…

  • Sip by sip

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Strong facesare baked in tough ovensAnd tough feeton rough roadsYou and Ihave come from afarAnd if this strugglemust mean somethingwe’ve got to hold ontill the very endThose who have come a long waystarted out with a single stepfollowed by anotherIf you must drink this bitter cuptake it sip by sip

  • Wooden smile

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in ,

    Like a window into the world of the ancients, the statue of Aya stood in the evergreen virgin forest. Her eyes seem to follow you as you move around her. Her heaving chest, rhythmic with that of anyone who came close to her. She was a piece of a fairy tale that extended into reality.…

  • Have you heard?

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in ,

    A boy of Teeth so big as if with secrets That two lips could not keep together Teeth so long They made the day of all kids that met them You can imagine the relief of the little boy When Babylon finally fell When Mother Nature fired those clowns Oh what joy! Those incisors have…

  • A Stone Is Coming ( Published by The Writers Club )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in ,

    My short story “A Stone Is Coming” has been published by The Writers Club. I deeply appreciate their job of promoting writers and especially for publishing my piece. I would be grateful if you could visit the link below to read the flash fiction : https://greythoughts.info/clubpieces/a-stone-is-coming A special thanks once again to Grace Y. Estevez…

  • Juliet

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    8 O’Clock. He’s getting late. Still upstairs. On the first floor. There! His window. He walks down the stairs, halfway, he climbs up to hug and kiss his wife. Comes down. Runs up again. He’s possessed. Of love. Romantic. Like his red scooter. https://cyranny.com/2022/08/10/august-10th-1minfiction-challenge/

  • Jigsaw Puzzle

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in , ,

    Initially planned to spend the night at the reading room on campus. Change of plans. Returning back to hostel. Out of fuel. Broke. Hours of concentration on books without food was draining me. Losing my mind. While bypassing the International Students Hostel, I had an idea. Search through the dustbin beside the hostel. These were…

  • A living canvass

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in ,

    A soothing song sat softly on her mind all day and wouldn’t leave, like the way her story was trapped in that old dress and wouldn’t fade. The moving notes guided her fingers groping the margins of her heart for the right words to describe what that dress had come to symbolize for her. Although…

  • Travel and C

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Travel and see We’ve travelled and we’ve seen That stories of love and of heart breaks Are respecters of no race Travel and see We’ve travelled and we’ve seen What we took for granted Back home Travel and see We’ve travelled and we’ve seen That lands falling behind us as we traveled Were not just…

  • Machine hearts

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    “I want to be a soldier!” It’s been his song since childhood Inspired by Batman And the other guy who gums and ‘degums’ himself from buildings to save a girl in danger Little did he know that soldiers wear uniforms Much larger than the passion to defend the defenseless It’s only from high up here…

  • Joojo and an animal with thousand feet

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in ,

    His trouser smelt of sweat so Joojo felt he should abandon it on the bathroom door after taking his bath. The next morning he urgently needed to step out, he must meet someone. Unfortunately, all his clothes were dirty. He scanned through the dirty clothes and found a not-so-dirty one. It was a shirt. Turning…

  • Odessa – Chapter 3: Fire on the mountain

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    As the setting sun faded in the sky, it dissolved its yellowish colour and sprayed it into the faces of the arrogant mountains that stood up to it. On a small, wooden, black and white tv, the president addressed the nation. The president wasn’t angry. He only struggled to keep his voice down when he…

  • Odessa -Chapter 2: Foreigner

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    The motorbike slipped and nearly spat him into the mud. He succeeded in escaping an embarrassing fall, smiling and scanning around to see if anyone noticed. His eyes met those of no one. He hoped to find an observer with whom to laugh at his awkwardness. Now, he found none and was only smiling to…

  • Odessa – Chapter 1 : Cold war ( Continuation )

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    A new fetish priest was in town. As his way of announcing himself, he built his shrine on a controversial piece of land, a site along the beach on which the president sent soldiers to supervise the demolition of illegal structures, to pave way for the expansion of a road network linking China Town and…

  • Odessa – Chapter 1: Cold war

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    The prophet was arriving soon. The living room was already full of family members. And friends. A few church members were standing outside. And Djhaké had gone to get some extra chairs. Dabali was in the corridor, peering through a cut in the window at the guests in the living room. He had no gift…

  • The Widow of No.9 Street Chapter 2 : Offside Traps

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    July 3, 9am. A cool Monday morning preceded by a few drizzles. A truck arrives at Mrs. Stella’s house to offload goods ordered two months ago. Usually, Mrs. Stella would yell at a worker mal-handling her goods whenever she noticed one. But ever since she admitted she was in love with me, I noticed she’s…

  • The Widow of No.9 Street Chapter 1 : Close Encounter

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    There was silence after she spoke. I noticed her eyes were fixed on the table before her and she would not lift them to look at me. Her breathing was slow and hard, beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She waited for my reply. I was blank. What should I say? My mind replayed…

  • 18XX – Part 9 ( Final Chapter)

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It is hard to believe Sharon is dead. If her rose flowers haven’t wilted yet, and continue to get mysteriously watered at night, she’s sending a message to someone. And the more I think about the narratives circulating her disappearance, the more mysterious I find that former classmate of ours. The last time I saw…

  • 18XX – Part 8

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I am strolling through the walls of my former school, Martin Fisher Memorial. It’s been eight years now since I left. The school compound looks deserted and old and the classrooms and assembly grounds that used to look very big in my eyes now look very small. I am witnessing a distant present that seems…

  • A path calls me

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    I was born running Running with the masses In a race to nowhere And in the middle of nowhere A path calls me Something about this path Like a piece of me has journeyed it before Naked, Unashamed of labels Of being perverse, odd, wild and unruly.

  • Sleeping Dragon – Final Chapter

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It’s the dawn of Judgment Day. A mass choir with each member carrying lit candles lead the army through the forests engulfing Salsa to Omnipotent Towers at Legends’ Heights where the gigantic statue of Gorr stands, singing moving hymns along the way. The army kneels before the statue for Gorr’s blessings. The King is to…

  • Sleeping Dragon – Part 4

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    With outstretched arms and knelt on a golden dais borne on the shoulders of four mighty giants, King Amia enters the Supreme Martial Court of Wilo amidst thunderous cheers from his subjects. “Aaaaaamiaaaaa!!!!……Aaaaaamiaaaaa!!!!………Aaaaaamiaaaaa!!!! The great hall shudders with chants mounting to an earthquaking crescendo. Crowds on the streets of Salsa go wild and restive with…

  • Sleeping Dragon – Part 3

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    King Olga hangs himself on an oak tree outside his palace. Crowds throng the scene, despite the chilly winter storm and threats from the palace guards to ward off the scene. For months, the royal family cannot name a successor. The ensuing rot and riots breed traitors, terrorists and bandits who scavenge the countrysides for…

  • Sleeping Dragon – Part 2

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Many of the citizens of the Zengo Empire never heard of BMS Invisible. They were an elite, highly trained special commando forces for strike backs classified “Impossible” by the Supreme Martial Court of Wilo. They were led by the almighty Jaguar, godfather of Ghost Town. The invasion was scheduled for 4am. At exactly 2am, Jaguar’s…

  • Sleeping Dragon

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Wee Base.11pm. Code :Womanizers’ League Jaguar crushed the lit cigarette in his clenched fist after his war-hardened veterans had quickly memorized the contents of the note. Cocking their guns, they disappeared into the abandoned mansion kneeling in the dark on the outskirts of the town. Tidal waves crushed themselves angrily against the rocks below the…

  • Holy Pepper – Part 2

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Sani lay glued to the bloody floor, his entire body completely cold – except a small opening in his ass which still retained some warmth, thanks to occasional farting. A time-bomb locked in his left chest ticked louder and louder, the blood that oozed from his ears and nostrils quickening their pace as if trying…

  • Open this door! – A short story

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    – Denis! Open this door!! – Tell her to give me my phone! – Why will I take his phone? Sofie, you were here when I told you about the pictures I saw on my husband’s phone. I could have divorced him, but I never reacted. I am still with him. So why will I…

  • Madmen’s Song – A poem

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    For my breakfast I ate books Lunch was music Movies for supper For dessert, I took the advice of wise friends When I went to sleep, I dreamt ideas And when I awoke, I saw many good things I could do with the pile of junk that filled my world I must get to work…

  • united we fall – The complete story

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    united we fall – The complete story

  • Holy Pepper

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    From the time the cup was handed over to him, Sani knew he was the next to die. Like water in a clenched fist, his life was slipping fast through his hands. Whiles lying in his room deeply absorbed in his thoughts, he noticed an eye peeking at him through a crack in his room…

  • Your past came knocking – A poem

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Your past came knocking It came with a message packaged in the person of your Ex The urge to open it was strong But I resisted Wanted you to read it and tell me what it means for us Whatever you decide I just want you to know Darling, my collection of happiness That you…

  • Moonlight – the full story.

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    It was midnight. From the hill on which our cottage stood, I saw the eyes of an incoming bus dilate with delight as it peeped through the fog that had pinned itself to the wet, virgin forest. Everything around the cottage had taken on the the greyish look of the moon stuck against the indomitable…

  • Kanté is growing

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    The merciless Ivorian sun crushed tarred road into simmering waves. Illusion beckoned Kanté to keep looking into the distance for evidence. And whiles looking, past memories gently crept into his mind as he trudged through the enervating heat towards his favorite restaurant for his lunch break. Food. Food. Food. All that had been on his…

  • united we fall – The complete story

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    -our sister Lalé was robbed last night. She was returning from work around 1am and noticed a dubious figure following her at a distant. She quickened her pace. So did her intruder. Upon reaching the gate to the house, she found it locked and she began screaming, “Thief! Thief! Thief!” But no one came out…

  • Machine Heart – Part 2

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    Footsteps of neighbours returning late from work soon died down into the silence of midnight, occasionally broken by distant howling of dogs and eerie hooting of owls. Diallo lay in his room, unable to sleep, looking out of his open window at the half moon skating across the sky, above the thick fog that sat…

  • Machine heart – a short story

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    5pm. A hazy Friday evening. Two colleagues are alone at the backseat of their company bus. She was talking, her elbow on his shoulder, turning away shyly whenever her eyes met his. “I can hardly get you off my mind. At work when you see me busy at my desk…on my phone..it’s just a facade..it’s…

  • I wonder

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    She cheated on her husband and I was curious to know how and why it happened. It could not have been in her home. She and her husband hardly receive visitors. The neighbors would have found it suspicious that a man paid her a visit while her husband was away at work. Being the gifted…

  • Come back

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    He no longer believes in their relationship. He’s taken his bag and fled. No word. Not even a goodbye. She’s heard he is in Togo. She stands in church today, a microphone in hand, in tears. Testimony time. Let her enemies know that despite the efforts to kill her joy, she will still smile, even…

  • RASTA

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    For the entire night, visions of Diallo’s Barber Shop traumatized Ras Jungblé in his sleep. “Barber Shop! Barber Shop! Barber Shop!” The words rang loud and maddened his anxiety. He sat up with a jolt. As he stood up to his window and gazed at the barber shop in the distance, he saw nothing but…

  • Journey with me to the top

    —

    by

    Benjamin Nambu
    in

    “Carry a journal with you and write in it any idea that occurs to you during the day,” our Introduction to English I course lecturer told us. Dr. Patience hiaMensa was her name. “That’s a great idea,” I thought to myself, suddenly remembering the many times I had written brilliant stories on pieces of papers…

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started