Tag: Writing
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Retracing the steps – 4
Talent is discovery. Like running through a virgin forest and chancing upon an unusual creature, artefact or phenomenon. Many years ago, minerals such as gold and iron were found very close to the earth’s surface. Sometimes , when it rained heavily, certain ores were exposed and people collected them like stones. But years of mining…
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lessons
hard lessons, written down for revisionsyet everyday it seems the lessons never endand writing seems futilemistakes too many to noteand the chance to apply lessons learnt never seems to comenew mistakes, new lessons everyday looks like circumstances are constantly updating themselves patterns too complex for me to figure the trickthrown away my lesson booksperhaps I…
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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…
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watching the experts
I sat on my bed watching from my laptop on a bedside table, occasionally worried if the volume disturbed my neighbors who lived next room. Something was on my mind : will these people be advocating for fidelity in relationships if theirs were so thorny with complications that they couldn’t wait to be out of…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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Listening to Enya
Hit songs are addictive, forcing us to put them on replay mode for days. With time, the punch lines in the lyrics lose their energy and sparkle, the funny jokes in the songs become dry.I used to think this was the cycle of every good song until I came across some masterpieces. It was December…
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The good old days
Back then our TVs used antennae usually tied to some little pole nailed to roofs of houses, and for some strange reasons, it was always in the middle of a movie or football match, when the action was intensely suspenseful, that there would be a sudden community-wide power outage, a blackout that blackened our hearts…
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To those who never lived
How do babies of complicated pregnancies that necessitated an abortion feel? Do they ask God why others are given a chance to live while they are not? Is there a special planet for those little sweet souls to have a taste of life on Earth? Those aborted because their parents did not need them in…
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Born for a prince
When we are growing up, we have these grand illusions of what we wanna be, places we want to go and whom we want to marry. Many of these illusions are birthed and kept alive by movies we’ve watched, a favorite song, some picture in a newspaper, book or magazine, spiced by our imaginations. At…
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Traces of the virus
I used to crave for attention. I would do anything to get it, although at the time I didn’t realize it was an obsession, tainted with subtle pride. It started in my childhood when a neighbor’s wife used to call my brother and send him on errands. She would sometimes give him gifts for being…
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Everything matters
I used to think of waiting till I am excellent at what I do before I begin, waiting to be perfect,waiting for the perfect conditions. I didn’t know perfection is a lifelong journey that only begins when we decide to start unprepared. I used to underrate the things I did. They seem to not have…
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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…
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My blogging journey
When I decided to start blogging, I was simply looking for a place to track my creative writing journey. I used to write on pieces of paper whenever I felt inspired to write a poem, story or idea down. These papers disappeared after a while thanks to carelessness. Even when I write in books, they…
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Married to the Game
I saw him everyday. In the mornings. Very early. Between 6 and 7am. The place I met him varied depending on the time I left the house. But so far as I stepped out around those hours, I surely bumped into him. He seemed to have no holidays, no breaks. Always in same clothes, soaked…
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Married to the Game
I saw him everyday. In the mornings. Very early. Between 6 and 7am. The place I met him varied depending on the time I left the house. But so far as I stepped out around those hours, I surely bumped into him. He seemed to have no holidays, no breaks. Always in same clothes, soaked…
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The Outcast (Page 47)
It was one late night. We were sitting in the dormitory, chatting. This was after preps, a time all students revised their lessons or did assignments. I was no longer a student. But I stayed in the school’s hostel to help a staff with evening lessons for adults. It was the time Blackberry phones had…
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I fear these dark valleys
I fear these dark valleysWhere echoes of footstepsHaunt meI dread these lonesome journeysWhere pieces of broken promises Jab meI fish these empty spacesFor something to fill the emptiness withinPalpable emptiness, all I catchI’ll revere these formative yearsAnd the tears, uncertainties and testsThey fed me Email:Benjaminnambu1@gmail.com WhatsApp: +233 541 824 839
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Fatigue
Traffic jam. I check my time. Probably won’t be home as early as planned. The driver is contemplating changing his route. “Anyone alighting at Third Gate?“ he asks without turning to the conductor. ” One passenger, ” the conductor tells him. The driver seems annoyed by that piece of information. I shake my head staring…
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Ladies on a balcony
They were a bunch of female students, on the balcony of the last floor of our hostel, hooting and jeering at passersby. I hadn’t seen them until I was stabbed with a remark about my clothes. They said my combination was off. It was embarrassing. I took a look at what I wore. They were…
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Memories of home
It became the norm, sad as the situation was. It amazed her that one part of the world could live in such quiet, peace and harmony whereas another part of the world was in chaos, where hope was torn into pieces by bullets sweeping past the ears of fleeing children and mothers and fathers and…
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The Outcast (Page 24)
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…
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A room with a unique view
There are stages in life that feel so good that we are reluctant to advance. We have come a long way, and need some rest. We rationalize. Soon, the excuses we sow mature into good reasons to extend our stay. We do not realize how we have outgrown our new environment until moving on becomes…
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The Outcast (Page 22)
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…
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Sophie
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…
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Spanish riddles
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
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The Outcast (Page 18)
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…
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Missing cigarettes
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…
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The Outcast (Page 15)
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.…
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Renewable marriage contract ( Published at The Writers Club)
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
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The Outcast (Page 13)
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…
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Living in Isolation ( Spillwords Publication )
I am pleased to announce the publication of my essay “Living in Isolation” on Spillwords Press. I am deeply grateful to the Editor Dagmara K. and the team at Spillwords for the publication. As usual, a special thanks to Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy for the encouragement and motivation. Here’s the link to the piece. Kindly read…
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The Outcast ( Page 12 )
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,…
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The Outcast ( Page 11 )
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…
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The Outcast ( Page 8 )
The day all pupils looked forward to after exams was the vacation, the last day of school popularly known as “Our Day”. When exams was over and teachers were busy marking and recording exam scripts, we used papers to design all kinds of objects to decorate our classroom. The good artists in class drew scenes…
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The Outcast ( Page 7 )
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…
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The Outcast ( Page 5)
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…
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The Outcast ( Page 4 )
Our hair was a little over two months, and even lice that had lived in the bushy hair for so long were growing weary of getting lost every now and then in the thickening thicket they once called home. We went to knock on the door of our parents’ room. Without answering, they knew it…
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Glistening in the distance
Maskyour hurtsTurn your backto all they’ve saidbehind you The mask will chafeIts pain will fadeNo condition is here to stayYou’ll soon forget your sorrowful daysAnd what the wasted years took away Glistening in the distance, a medallionRaise your head, tough stallionObstacles do not define a championEven if they seem unmovable like Mt. ZionEven if they…
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This is your land
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…
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Fertile connections ?
To passers-by, this was luggage. To Awal, it was his destiny wrapped in a box, carried on his shoulder. What he once called homeland is now a stretch of empty hopes he’s given up chasing. Initially, when the idea of abandoning his shop first occured to him, he thought it was his impatience speaking to…
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Sip by sip
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
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Date
It was weird. The food, the music and her attire that evening. What was on her mind? There was something odd about her movements as she served the food. The food tasted nice. She didn’t use most of the spices on the market. Chemicals. And chemicals have become the bulk of what we eat these…
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Odessa – Chapter 3: Fire on the mountain
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…
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18XX – Part 9 ( Final Chapter)
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…
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18XX – Part 8
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…
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Road signs to be ignored
Whenever you begin something new, if the start looks promising, there will be lots of people to comment and encourage you. There is usually the tendency to tailor what you’ve started to the likes of your new followers. You are careful not to ‘fall out of grace’ with them. Road signs. Ignore. Move on. Stick…
Diary of a Wanderer 