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Grandmother's Shack

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                                                         Grandmother’s Shack I heard someone shouting loudly, which was bizarre in the morning. I got out of our house and tried to listen to where the noise was coming from. That is when I saw Rita, my younger cousin, running down the hill towards our compound. She had a twig that she was waving profusely from east to west. I knew she was in distress, but could not make out what she was trying to say. By this time, everyone had come out of their houses, including grandmother Teresia. Rita never made it to our compound, as we saw her fall down abruptly as she came down the hill. Samson, my older cousin, ran out of the compound, followed by my uncles, to check what had happened to her. To understand our past I will have to go back to the beginning. There were five houses with two shacks in ou...
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LOOKING FOR AN IDENTITY

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They call her black, a child of a black nation, They call her poor, a child of the slums, They call her little girl, a child of her mother, But what does she call herself? She stares into oblivion, Oblivion where she sees nothing, Nothing has come out of her life, Life that she has had to face. A memory comes to mind, Mind that has had to ponder a lot, A lot about her past and the looming future, Future that is meant to define her. She was once bright, Bright to read and write, Write she did for her life depended on it, It was after all her education. She thought it would deliver her from poverty, Poverty that she had been born into, Into a life of misery and anguish, Anguish she faced at the hands of a predator, It was a chilly morning, Morning that was beautiful and calm, Calm that she needed in her life, Life that had dealt her one blow after another. Mother said he was the Good Samaritan, Samaritan who would pay her ...
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