zackomoroblogs

If one lives long enough, everything will come, even death; and death did finally come to Richie’s family.  I had known Richie when he was barely in his pampers as by then his parents and I were neighbours and I was working together with his father in an institution. The close relationship between our two families had endured in the normal natural spurts even after our retirement.  This time, I had visited the family to condole with them as they buried their son Richie. Richie had been a soldier stationed in Somalia and had met his death by a hail of bullets from a jihadist gun. He was a fine soldier, his superior officers had said. A very social being, generous and very committed to his faith, the villager’s had murmured. No hint of scandal or pride, they added. The village came in full swing to condole with Richie’s family. The eulogies were long and sad and all dwelt on the loss of a young fine man. It must have been Plato, the famous Greek philosopher who had coine...

It is Christmas and end year , it is the season of merry making and making  fun, a season of good cheer and laughter, a season of soul searching for the spiritually inclined and also a season for many of us -of steady binge drinking and of crazy hangovers. While there may be private parties, most corporate firms like yours truly Asheena publishers also hold communal end year and Christmas office parties for the hard working staff. An end year party should not dare call itself a party unless the reverberations caused during the party last well into the following year. I mean, it is no party unless the consequences of the party fade well into the fourth month of the following year! My office – Asheena publishers- annual party is normally held two or three days before the Christmas party and ends –well- two or three months later... or even much, much later in the year depending on how long it takes the boss to remember who indeed made that practical joke on him during the par...

Dear Friend, (And I call you this in the strictest sense of the term ) I am in receipt of your well worded letter and I have to admit that you still have that knack for stinging words. In your discourse you come out as suave, complicated and feminist. The people who don’t know you and read your letter can also discern a strong feeling of awareness of your gender identity, coloured by your professional background, pedigree breeding and maybe social position. You blame me for all manner of ills from my drinking habits, my toilet eccentrics and insinuate strongly that Iam a useless do nothing not even aware of the schools my daughters attend. You however conveniently forget that you indeed have a share of the blame for the path am now taking- sharing the blame in a big way because in no small measure you have contributed to it. You remember when we started, 15 years back, the days when I was young tall and handsome. You were then at university, fresh from the village, shy ...

A SOLDIER PRAYS The panorama gleams with a heartland beauty and the Minaret towers shimmers in the morning light . The Marabou stork, ever detached, takes off in a flap of wings and the vagrant strains of the beautiful sounds of the Muezzin’s call penetrates the silence in the far distance. The prayer call, whispers, falls and murmurs with the wind as it has done for almost a century and a half; it is God’s sound coming from the voice of the Muezzin. It first ruffles the Somali dirt, it lifts off and bounces onto the scrubland brush and heads towards the sea   welcoming the fishermen - and the pirates too - back from their demanding and risky nightly sojourn; it politely massages the Ocean of the Indians whispering and reminding the lapping waves of that third day of creation. It then plunges into the deep warm  waters and blesses the sea creatures, the Lobster and the Mackerel, the Shrimp and the Whale, the Shark and the red Snapper. And then from the deep it rises ...