By Brian Nzomo. “Mutuku. Mutuku. It’s time. Get up,” a low voice muttered at my hut’s window. My eyes were heavy with sleep, but I had to struggle exhaustively from the sleeping mat made of reeds. I opened the door and let him in. He was holding a dimly lit lamb. “It is time. YouContinue reading “THE CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.”
Category Archives: LITERATURE
Wrecked Existence.
By Brian Nzomo. The grim events of 2016 changed my life and its course completely. It was a dolent period when I wallowed in the unimaginable depths of a broken mental health system, and witnessed the austere destruction looming among the depressed souls in a collapsed health system, amid the mangled economic situation. The moroseContinue reading “Wrecked Existence.”
THE PRISON OF THE INTREPIDS.
By Brian Nzomo. The prison. With decrepit adobe walls. Cerise bricks. Fifteen metres high. Fitted with tenacious and grisly looking barbed wire at the apex. A solid gate made of stalwart steel, enforced by cogent camphor. Three hawk-eyed wardens were sentinel around the gate. Sauntering vigilantly. Four watchtowers stood loftily above the prison walls atContinue reading “THE PRISON OF THE INTREPIDS.”
GONE WITH THE TIDES.
A short story. By Brian Nzomo. It had been three years since Mwanaisha and I signed the marriage certificate at the Attorney General’s office. The small office. Just us, two witnesses and the senescent attorney General. Both of us had come to this uncanny decision based on the negativism our relationship was facing. Mwanaisha wasContinue reading “GONE WITH THE TIDES.”
Kimathi wa waciuri and his bitter end sixty three years ago.
By Brian Nzomo. More than six decades ago, a dreadlocked man with a fearsome gait and grandeur, but a warm personality; fell into the cold depths of betrayal. A man who had sacrificed his Intelligence, comfort and most importantly, life, in order to thwart colonial oppression. His love for the aggrieved African, led him andContinue reading “Kimathi wa waciuri and his bitter end sixty three years ago.”
DEATH OF THE NIGHT.
POEM. Dusk is here, Beneath the Celestial darkness, Lays a vagabond called death, Lingers out in the shadows, Through his apt magic, Turns the hearts of men and nature, against other men. Trekking in the pathways of the night, is tempting Death himself, Man’s presence in outside his abode, Devoid of the aubade star, isContinue reading “DEATH OF THE NIGHT.”
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