Matilda Okwimbikiti

Matilda Okwimbikiti
Matilda Okwimbikiti

Your wife is a serial sadist. Common chaps could have their version but this is the sad truth. The jovial woman who moves with long dresses and who laughs even at flies is a first-rate witch. A devil. 

When she meets people she smiles and shows them her white teeth. She hugs strangers and gives a lot to charity. She talks about God so much and says good words to everyone. Except you. Continue reading “Matilda Okwimbikiti”

Amani Mwimali, Duke of Eshiakhulo

On evenings when I leave Patel’s early enough, I spend my time on the mattress basking in the dark and musing over the sins I’ve committed under the sun. Some of them amuse me and I laugh. Some remind me that I am stupid and I really feel it. I am that sentimental that something I did in 1927 still haunts me and makes me ashamed even when alone and in the confines of this thing whose rent I pay myself.

Maybe that is how I should live. It looks like the perfect life cycle of a poor man. Do good, regret the good all your life, die, get forgotten, reincarnate as a dog, get beaten up for bones you didn’t steal, get knocked down by a truck, die….

Death. Continue reading “Amani Mwimali, Duke of Eshiakhulo”

Hessy wa Kayole

hessy-wa-kayole
hessy-wa-kayole

We are in the house for the evening. She is helping with the dishes while I burn something to eat. Today is unusually cold and quiet. The outsider would say it is because it is a Sunday and people have retired this early to rest their bodies so they can report to their masters tomorrow in good time. It is the wrong side of the year to be fired because of arriving at work late. And with the depreciating coin and escalating living costs, the #1 thing you need to secure more than life and women is a job.
But that is not the reason it is all quiet. Continue reading “Hessy wa Kayole”

After College

One of my favourite pastimes these days is looking across glass walls in the streets. I don’t know if it is First Class Narcissism or what but that is it – walking down the street admiring myself in the mirrors. I admire my gait. My hair. My shoes. The goatee that’s refused to grow since college. The complexion. And scars. I think I fell in love with the marks on my forehead long ago and it has taken ages to acknowledge¬†this. Guys, this guy is simply a catch.

Continue reading “After College”