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Showing posts with the label Random thoughts

Butwaa! 2

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Any mlevi reading this knows that hio mkojo ndio ime hold back kuzima ziii. So Liz takes her to a nearby washroom, and when she comes back, her legs seem to have forgotten their function, you know, like holding the body weight and supporting locomotion. Miguu zake ziko jelly jelly. So she just says,  "ebu mnishikilie kiasi"  That, my friends, was the last time I saw her standing. Her eyes shut, her mouth failed the speaking test, and she just fell into our hands. Visiting hours zimeisha, amevaa uniform, tuko in a location civilian hawafai kukuwa. Trouble was brewing like the water we just drank. We tell Liz juu pia yeye ako na uniform aende akuje na help as we try to make her vomit and pour water on her. Waapi!  Liz alienda na simu yake and the clothes we had brought. Mpaka leo 11 years later hajawai rudi. We are there for 30 mins and catch the radar: civilians on government land. A whistle is blown, and close to 40 officers are on scene in a minute. Zilishuka mpaka nikak...
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Thoughts on (The Catcher in the Rye)

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                         It's a classic but with a heavy dose of notoriety within American culture considering the period it was published. You can Google or ChatGPT the controversies around it.  I had my own share of its intrigue when I first came across it, way back on campus. I still remember that encounter quite vividly like it was yesterday. There were the three of us around a table having some drinks after a difficult CAT. Sharing the table was my room mate, best friend. I will call him Y. To complete the table was X, a mutual lady friend whom I perceived to be a deep thinker.  Lying on the table was a collection of three books Y had just acquired to dilute the stress of academic reading. The first book was The Fountainhead. That's the first time I knew Ayn Rand was a lady and not a man. I can't seem to recall the second book but the top one was definitely, The Catcher in the Rye. Y was more into philosop...
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Absurdity of it

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                  I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us Can we play a little?   I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. H ow many of you have asked yourself this?  “Am I actually doing the right thing?” “Is this story worth telling?” I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy pi ece.   I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote.  One...
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