Tag Archives: Passion

Amira was the best thing that ever happened to Tonia. For a decade they had been friends and pretty much loved each other so affectionately you could liken them to lesbians- each one’s character greatly affected the other and the truth is they were pretty much contagious.

Today it took every will in the book for Amira to hear her friend broken down and pretty much helplessly beaten by her emotions over the phone. Ami could only stand stoic at the salon as she listened to her friend recount the story of how her fiancée had broken their engagement only six months into and cancelled the wedding.

‘Ami oh Ami you need to get a ticket and come over – I cannot even deal with this now, I cannot take it’ said Tonia, ‘what am I going to say to my parents, to the whole world after we threw such an elaborate engagement party in front of over 400 guests? This is not happening, this isn’t just happening – please Ami come over call him if you can, just locate him and let me know if you know where he is at all” cried Tonia.

Ami responded down the reciever with her usual confident and carefree manner just so her friend Tonia can feel a little relief. The tension she could feel oozing from the voice on the other end – the pain Tonia was feeling right now was something Ami could not bear. She had made an elaborate speech at their engagement party that made people both jealous and sad and yet cheerful. In the end she had walked up to Dan and said to him
‘Mister this girl is my homie and my bestie – if you ever think of hurting her then you have me to contend with. I will politely chop off your balls and pound them in the fufu motar’ she was so serious she only noticed she was wagging her finger at him to the stares of their guests and parents.

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It could have taken him 12 lives like a cat to die …for he believed in his own infallibility and it betrayed him

He saw his life flash before his eyes as he lay on the muddy soil, the earth where his umbilical cord was planted, he was no stranger to this land but today he stood out a pariah. He had known too many people , he was a very popular person better still a local hero and all that meant nothing today, his popularity had nothing to do with his predicament, this day was bound to come. Yet when he lay dying the echo’s of the wind called on other things and not the people he knew. the wind sang his crimes, his betrayal, failures, dirty wealth and his legacy as a colossal failure to his family. How did he get here, his thoughts drifted as his life ebbed away his death was eminent.

Suddenly the revering voice of the mob brought him back to life and to his predicament.
”kill him burn him
”Lynch him and let the dogs eat his flesh”
The mob yelled – no mercy – there was no mercy

The pain in his head was unbearable but the stab wounds in his chest and lower belly were way past painful, they were killing him. Yes that’s what will kill him if the crowd did not rush him to the hospital…he lay there and listened to the voices fading and cascading a very dirge-y feeling, bemoaning a recap of his funeral. A few onlookers who knew better than to intervene with what the vigilantes had decided was the new rule of the land stood adrift with unreadable facial expressions – neither sorrow nor joy for his predicament. Perchance he could have redeemed his life months ago if he had made himself part of this group, but instead he dragged his feet knowing the source of his wealth will be unearthed easily, so he contented himself with self glorified accolades of a White goods importer/trades man with friends in high places.

Ten feet away a mother slumped into the muddy earth, holding unto other women , wailing, a very dry raspy rubbery cry that could barely be heard from the strain in her throat. It took her every will to cry but she cried, that was all she could do as a mother, watching her son being slaughtered by the crowd for being something she knew nothing about. As a single parent she contributed and invested nothing but good in his life, good manners, education, food on the table, clothes on his back, borrowing when she could barely afford a meal or school fees, but as a mother her aspirations were ever high, ever high for the day her son will become the man she dreamed of him.

Today she stood and watched all her hard work dissipated with no pity, no mercy. Her womb ached and her veins throbbed and pulsated from the struggle and strain of trying to reach her son. Yes! she now knew exactly what Mary felt watching her son Jesus’ Crucifixion, but at least Jesus was crucified for the good of the humanity, what was her son being murdered for ? she reached out her hand but could only grab the wind and for a moment their eyes met- she could read her son, her baby , and his eyes screamed HELLPPPPP! she was helpless as she watched the leader of the vigilante cast a huge car tire over her only son and demanded for fuel- she screamed so loud, buried her head into her thigh so deep she could smell the dampness of her femininity and the source of her pain, she sobbed so intensely that the source of her tears felt like pulling water from a drought battered earth…

Time had passed and he must have slipped in and out of consciousness, when he awoke. his first reaction was to flinch from the pain on his right side , he reached out to feel his abdomen where the pain was coming from but his hands could barely stretch, then he saw the handcuffs. He had been handcuffed to a bed, a hospital bed and there was no one else in the room. He knew he was naked for there were no clothes underneath him but the cold caress of rumpled sheets with the logo ‘general hospital’.

The pain suddenly meant nothing, his mother probably had managed to get the police there on time to take him off the hands of the vigilantes, there was no other explanation for going scout free this time around. He decided against calling out because he barely had the energy to raise his voice. He slowly shut his eye and slowly went back to sleep, this time peaceful enough to mutter three words ‘thank you God’. As the darkness seized him again he ventured into some place he had never been in his mind, a place of remorse … he was remorseful for the pain he had caused the family he had robbed at gunpoint, beaten the father and son to a pulp and molesting the mother, he was remorseful for many other things he had done which suddenly felt so real he wanted to dissociate himself from, but it was too late he was known as a thief, a deadly criminal and a rapist, what difference was his remorse going to make ?

Somewhere down the street a mother hastily cooks and stacks the food filled dishes in a food basket, eyes bloodstained from crying and throat sore from screaming, she hurriedly covers the basket with her best knitted quilt hoping to just keep it another minute warmer for her son in the hospital. As she walked down the street the whole world stared, amazed at what a mothers love could do… some verbal enough to express their disgust for a thieves mother.

She quickened her steps and let the voices pass over her, she had one single worry , whether her son will make another day, in jail or in hospital all she wanted was for him to be alive, so she walked and prayed.

(property of Dorothy Diamond – not to be reproduced or duplicated in any form)