VII: Bloodsweats of Gethsemane

The eagle’s eye spots its target and begins to circle the air above. His movements are slow, meditated, precisely calculated, better than the unfailing tick-tock of a clock. He has been traversing the skies for many days, moving away from the cloudy zones that blocked his vision by day, relaxing the wings of his determined…

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VI: Hems on Shredded Pavements

The dazzling silver of the Swedish Alps seemed to be mocking Mumbi’s gray countenance as she looked down thousands of feet from her seat on the KLM flight. Send me sleep, dear God, send me sleep, she begged. For two days now since she read her sister Kui’s email, she had not slept. She had…

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V: A Place Called No Return

“Sheeeit!!!…” Cursed the voice at the other end of the line. Lenana quietly hung up on the deranged lunatic without a word. Shanni watched him from her spot in the living room. She knew instinctively who it was. It was her younger brother, Crush, and she wasn’t about to ask questions. Not now. Yet it…

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IV: A Rumour of God

Mumbi contemplated the little arrow resting on “send”, sighed, and right-clicked the mouse. She sat gazing into her computer screen for what seemed like eons. She was giving him time to make a response. She was aware of the existence of the chat option that allowed one to carry on a conversation on screen. She…

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The Thing About Our Brokenness

I never got their names. This past weekend, I sat opposite three people who were waiting to be picked up after a conference on disability and rehabilitation. They were all blind, some with a double handicap. The small guy in a wheelchair with a blind cane towering above him had just won a major award…

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The Mask of Absurdity

Some 20 years ago, I was in the cast of Samuel Beckett’s one-acts, directed by a visiting French company, Theatre du Shaman. The thing is, we struggled to see the humor the director insisted was in Beckett. We just couldn’t see it. How on earth could the doom-and-gloom of Beckett’s absurd theatre be funny? We…

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III: Across Undying Yesterdays

“Well, shall I say congratulations!” Dr. Clemmons chimed, still peering into the screen. Shanni shot straight up into a sitting position from the table, her belly still gooey with the gel. “Careful now. Look for yourself. This right here on the screen is the image of your twins” “Twins?!?” this time she almost fell off…

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II: By the Rivers of Babylon

Previously – Part I: For a Bowl of Porridge It is forty-seven minutes after nine in the late dawn of Chicago. Mumbi sits by Starbucks sipping a cappuccino and sings her song of Zion. She sings the memory of her home and all that she left behind. She sings the promises she made to herself…

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I: For a Bowl of Porridge

And so has Lenana Olesakaja wrestled with his God, sprained many an hamstring, lost many a match, and still he goes back to the same battleground of a mind in turmoil. He has begged and waited for an explanation to God’s silence over the myriad mind-boggling injustices within and around him. He has demanded to…

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I Made a Promise

I made a promise this morning. I told my husband that I’ll meet him for a big special lunch today. It’s Valentine’s day. It’s a day off teaching for me, thanks to yesterday’s snow storm. He goes out to clear the snow, but my car is buried too deep. He has to leave for work….

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