1234 Evening Road, Filaba Trans Company, Zimbabwe Sept. 25, 1959, Professor T. Jones, 315 Borbon Street, University of Trifton. Dear Professor Jones, My name, as you can see, is Mukasa. I am a Mathematician in Zimbabwe; and you can say I am a mathematician by day, a philosopher by night. We met once Read More
“Girls’ problem?” she said. He kept mum. “You mean your problem is deeper?” she asked. Readjusting the look on his face, “whose problem isn’t deep?” he replied. “Well, I will grant you that.” It was a rainy day, and the tall lady was the third human who almost fell from the slippery ground with meshed Read More
Soon, their voices began to percolate through my red old jarrah-wooden door. I changed my sleeping position, rotated 180 degrees away from the door, and threw my cover cloth over my head to see if I could reduce the sound waves from balking my sleep. I failed. I put on my ear plugs, but, gush, Read More
Friends, Over the next several months, I will be experimenting with fiction.
I don’t know them. I just stumbled on them in the bar. I don’t know their names too, but they looked very African, west African to be precise, so I gave them two names akin to their looks. Orunmila and Omode. Orunmila is the elderly. Very elderly. He had scanty grey hairs on his head, Read More