Tag: Fiction
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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…
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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…
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The sign
I couldn’t wait to get home, to showcase my new cooking skills, the various local foods of diverse African nationalities my travels had made me discover, and the genres of African music we were not used to hearing in our country. I have always thought a home should be a place of love, where family…
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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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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 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…
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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…
Diary of a Wanderer 