But you see progress. You will see it. A few people around you may see it. You will see that you have covered a good distance in your path. And that distance you covered, took much more strength that you'd normally require. And that is a good thing. Part of this progress is understanding that you swing like a pendulum. You are not planted. You keep shifting. But pendulums aren't that bad are they? Your head above the water. You will survive. Please survive!
The Face of War The face of war, not Salvador Dalí’s kind, is blood. Blood that splutters on the walls of a mansion, and forms a pool by the door. Gunshots and commotion, fear and whispered prayers under abated breaths. The face of war takes sides and makes funny faces, as it renders a household … Continue reading The Face of War
THE WEEK The first voice I hear when I come to after a 45 minute break from a new reality I was meant to face, is the voice of a plainspoken woman. She is entreating God. She has the singular advantage of saying a supplication without subtlety or evasion. She also, as matter of the … Continue reading The Week, The Year that Followed
If you have lost a loved one this may be a serious trigger. I suggest you don't read it. I have pushed a wheelchair twice in a hospital. Both times happened the same week and both times I pushed the same person. And both times pushing a wheelchair felt like moving a planet on my … Continue reading Sometimes I Talk To God
I had two buckets, a red one and a blue one, one suitcase and a duffel bag in tow on the day Osama Bin Laden was smoked out of some hellhole in Abbotabad, Pakistan. The prevailing question therefore is: why would I be in company of bags and buckets when the world was supposed to … Continue reading Then It Happened
Boys fight. They always do. They fight about anything. Girls, football, territories, respect. The way boys grow is by learning to square it out amongst themselves in times when dialogue is not an option and from there they learn to respect each other and to keep to each one's lanes. That is the rule of the streets when it comes to boys. Girls gossip about it and they go full on cold wars. The streets are filled with thousands and thousands of girls that stopped talking to each other when Father Abraham was a boy because of the one girl that didn't tell the other she had a pretty dress. But boys, they say it to other boys' faces. Then one of those boys throws a fist on the other's face and with that world wars begin and the other boys cheer, by the end of the fights, the one with ripped shorts or bleeding gums is the loser.
I did a facial this past Sunday. It is not as bad as it sounds, I swear, the future is still promised. It is not as a gloomy as this sentence tries to make it appear. Sundays have become very long days. You cotch and turn on the couch. You scratch your scalp or your … Continue reading Let’s Face It
The first time I held a mobile phone in my hands was about nineteen years ago. It was a grey Motorola M-30 shipped to our house by my mother. It was a baby. A toddler. We held it with two pairs of velvet gloves. We rocked it like you rock a baby. We stroke … Continue reading Hello From The Other Side
Have you ever folded a note then put in your small jeans pocket and forgotten about it? No, don't look now, your small pocket is empty and you are not ready for this kind of disappointment especially on a Friday. I see some of you, mostly you backbenchers still looking. And as a mortal man, … Continue reading Half Time
From where his head rested, he saw the ugly mouth of a gun and a finger ready to pull back the trigger. It was a bad place to be. He thought about his mother and his sisters. Then he thought about death and how people die, some feel pain, some walk to the great divide … Continue reading Amos, His Rod and His Staff