zackomoroblogs

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 ...