“Dawa ya Mende! Ya Panya! Ya Mende! Ya Panya! Cockroach Murderer! Cockroach Killer! Ya Mende! Ya Panya! Ua Mende! Ua Panya!” the man standing outside Muthurwa market screams all day. Unlike his colleagues in the business who have acquire a small public address system and then recorded themselves so they can just stand there as the pitch loops all day long, he likes to play it old school. Continue reading…
I have a theory; being an uncle, a good uncle at that, is much harder than being a good father. One can be a good father without much extra effort per se, but the status of the good uncle that the children run to when he walks through the gate is an honor that must be earned. I agree that fatherhood is a task but it has a greater guarantee of success than simply being the happy uncle.
To the creative writer, there is something morbidly inspiring about morgues and barstools. Morgues because dead men tell no tales, as the saying goes, and the man looking for inspiration wants to tell tales. Barstools because, well, just barstools.
So when is it ever the right moment to make a tactical retreat? To the emancipated mind this should be a question of chance and choice, it has everything to do with ones decision-making abilities as well as the willingness to follow through.
Before I open this discourse, I will give anyone reading this fair warning that emotions and blatant myopia should be left at the door if they cannot be permanently discarded in any exploration about spiritual matters.
On a whiff of randomness the other day, I opened a facebook group for my primary school.
Every generation in human history has viewed itself as more advanced and civilized than the last. The one constant has always been sex, and rituals around it. Continue reading…
I stood up to go somewhere, but now I do not know where it was, or what I was going to do when I got there. There’s the door I opened and closed, built by my grandfather’s friend and ‘shipped’ on an old donkey cart, repaired many times since, and still holding.