Imhotep came around the other night, and here is the bit I can remember. On Sacrifice Me: Why do we have to sacrifice, why do we have to give up something for something else? Imhotep: The act is merely a friendly reminder that you folks aren’t God. On the World in Turmoil Me: Imhotep, look Read More
On Coronavirus and Universities Me: Did you hear? Imhotep: Hear what? Me: That they are closing universities; Going online; Coronavirus things. Imhotep: Urh, a number of departments, as we know it today should have been closed a long time ago, wellllllll before the coronavirus incident. Me: [looking non-plussed] Imhotep: Surprised? Are you surprised by my Read More
In between his works at his A.I. company, his biotech company, and numerous public lectures, he taught an Integrated Science class every fall at Itiwo Schools. Dr. Asanmu was a polymath for sure. One moment he is seen sitting down with bishop-philosophers discussing the intricacies of Thomism and Augustinianism, the next minute he is seen Read More
Imhotep is gradually becoming a charm and he stopped coming on the second Friday of every other month. He now shows up frequently but his appearance is now immune to any precise predictions. I continued to take notes in my dream notepad sitting right by my bed lamp, and my friends continued to ignore my Read More
He comes on the second Friday of virtually every other month, and I get to ask all sort of questions. He gave pithy answers mostly; but then I can’t say for sure. Were the answers pithy or I just can’t remember? I can’t picture his face, the last time I tried to look I saw Read More
Long, long ago, during the days of the great Macows. When the earth shook of wisdom, down to its knee. During the days where great and sincere intellectuals were easy to come by, like sands on the beach. A group of intellectual itinerants were particularly famous. They roamed Siaulai and had occasional and fecund lectures Read More
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.