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Dr. Jonathan Tafreg
(Poet & Novelist)



Following the inauguration of Nelson Mandela in 1994, Selina and her little Jedidiah fled the country for the Dutchman had realized their contradicting identity. An old man found them in Dar es Salaam, a port city on the eastern shores of Africa. All aboard City of Smokes Timeship, they left Africa on December 25, 1995; a Christmas day in some people’s calendar. They left for the Blue Olympus Cape and landed there on the thirtieth day of October, the year two thousands and forty five and they lived there for a couple of decades in the outskirts of Taugamma, an industrial province south of Pink Shadow mostly mushroomed with shanty maisonnettes and other low life shacks.

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PostSubject: THE HOUSE OF BROKEN HEARTS   Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:09 pm

He was in his mid nineties, wizened and shaken. A man of his words, the last of his kind, well known for his distinguished career, an expert in the art of mind reading and astronautics, famous for his cherish and love for young children; during his energetic adolescence, he made a successful space tour, for his father was a distinguished astronaut of his time; they travelled great deal merely to discover and explore, and we are told that him and his distant cousin’s friend Philip Jedidiah; a scientist and a traditional herbalist, together they co-invented the first manmade timeship which they used to travel back and forward in time, attending the sick both in the past and in the future. Their prime concern was to ship people back in time as a delaying technique to escape the judgment day. The game of lunatics!
          They played God once, but at the end of the day they crashed and froze along the grand time-stream and perished in the deeps of history. Prior to their ascension on the edge of extinction, they travelled back in time to Scythia, an ancient country north of the Black Sea. While there, Jedidiah suffered from psychasthenia, a severe functional mental disorder, characterized by fixed ideas, ruminative states, and hypochondriacal conditions; and he joined the unknown ancestors eight weeks later. An old chap took his corpse and left Scythia for a 1350’s Smoke City to honor his friend with the best burial. They buried Jedidiah near Aleko village, a very remote human habitat hundred miles south of Nopinian archipelago. Jedidiah’s funeral was one day prior to his birth. At the time when an old man arrived from Scythia, Selina, Jedidiah’s mother was pregnant. She saw the corpse of her unborn baby, the beauty of time travelling. After the birth, an old man took Selina to a 1990’s South Africa, and handled the family to a wealthy Dutch businessman somewhere in Gauteng.
          Following the inauguration of Nelson Mandela in 1994, Selina and her little Jedidiah fled the country for the Dutchman had realized their contradicting identity. An old man found them in Dar es Salaam, a port city on the eastern shores of Africa. All aboard City of Smokes Timeship, they left Africa on December 25, 1995; a Christmas day in some people’s calendar. They left for the Blue Olympus Cape and landed there on the thirtieth day of October, the year two thousands and forty five and they lived there for a couple of decades in the outskirts of Taugamma, an industrial province south of Pink Shadow mostly mushroomed with shanty maisonnettes and other low life shacks.
          The year 2070 witnessed a massive residential rehabilitation program as the world leaders met in Port Anipi and declared poverty a crime and good life a human right. They introduced a single world worship day, job application day, employment day and retirement day. An old man’s house was also rehabilitated and turned into a high standard upper residential apartment. Jedidiah was still young looking but as old as his father, an old man. Confusion!
          Now that we are confused; here again comes another major confusion. Rumors had it that an old man was immortal and omnipresent. Selina once whispered that her husband enjoyed much sharing his vast experience of the past and the future with the youngest generation, and this did not amuse his age mates, especially King Rhombus, and he (the king) always wanted to hear stories about heavens, stars and planets in the outer space. King Rhombus was a good reader of the Bible; he could read from the book of Genesis to Revelation over night, only to wake up airheaded and dizzy the next day. He summoned all the witches and wizards of the land to tell him about the outer space, and none of them satisfied his majesty. Who could tell what happened to the magicians? Negative!
At the time when everything was running smoothly; the time when Olympus government was providing everything for the citizens and the citizens were providing everything for the government, a one world mutual responsibility school of thought was born. The government established a State University of Talents and Paranormal Studies (SUTPAS) and an old man served there as the Dean Faculty of Time Travel and Anachronism. A man from another time teaching students in another time; how paranormal?
          One day when he was on a holiday, his students paid him a visit. They found him getting ready for his luncheon, and they ate together, the National Diet. In the evening he escorted them down the road and Taugamma Express picked them up. On his way back he felt strangely as if an alien monster had possessed him, he rushed quickly into the house while thwarting and quibbling from one matter to another. Seeing so, Selina who was just arriving from Thule, an island six days north of Orkney discovered by Pytheas (4th Cent. BC.) She jumped out of her whole glass time casket and grabbed an old man’s hand. “Bring me a cinchona bark.” An old man whispered. Selina rushed to the first floor and crawled on all fours like a giant arid scorpion searching for her Quechuan purse. She scattered everything on the floor and there it was, a cinchona bark.
          As he was chewing it, he pleaded with his wife never to time travel again, especially by leaving him alone in the house without even a mouse to give him company. Selina gave him a barbaric gaze, as if she wanted to swallow him. “Since I taught you how to ride that machine, you have become now a veteran time traveler huh?” an old man retorted. “Just last week you visited an ancient Roman Empire and met Julius Caesar there, you even shook hand with Queen Elizabeth I of England just yesterday, and here again arriving from Thule. I can read your mind, right now you are planning to attend the Independence Day of Tanganyika only to meet Julius Nyerere. When are you going to spend even a day with me? Or even cook for me? I am a university professor you know?” Selina remained speechless, just as silent as a Hebrew consonant. She then went to the kitchen to prepare her husband a typical Aleko cuisine. Sweet potatoes and condensed milk, an old man’s favorite.
          When dinner was served, an old man sat and summoned his great-great grandchildren; Selina brought him a family photo, the one that was hanging like the gardens of Babylon in the parlor. When he got hold of the frames, he chanted some incantations and the children on the photo came to life. They were about twelve, just like sons of Israel or disciples of Jesus. The youngest of all was about four hundred years old and the eldest was as old as the universe. Forever grandchildren!
          He wanted to tell them a story about the land of the Nullifidians, the legend of the house of broken hearts, a mythical book city. His Highness King Rhombus swallowed his pride and paid a visit, he also wanted to hear the thrilling story, but he met a frozen welcoming from an old man. He didn’t show up physically, it was a mental visit, the beauty of immortality. So, he left the compounds and forced his way to a neighboring mansion. He sat there, all alone in the pavilion, a king of his own kingdom, a kingdom of one man. He really wanted to hear the story, so he sat there in isolation, he didn’t mind the decemberish weather and the giant mosquitoes. He just wanted to hear…
          Children kept calm and listened, the old man yawned; he yawned again, this time with dry tears pouring out, moisturizing the contours on his dimpled cheeks. Before him was a tray of boiled sweet potatoes and a jug of condensed milk waiting for his Orangutan’s belly, the old man could not stop the inevitable, he was salivating, a sweeter bite to start the meal. Selina and Jedidiah left for an ancient India and landed there in the 2nd millennium BC, but they found out that the Aryans were invading the land, and so it was not safe to stay, they then time travelled to Aruba, an island in the Netherlands Antilles, in the West Indies, off the NW coast of Venezuela. An old man could see and even control every move of the casket using his magic wristwatch.
          A 2015 Aruba was just nice for a family vacation, considering its high living standard, nice hotels, beaches and other honeypots. Seeing that they were enjoying the beauty of Oranjestad, Palm Beach and other places, spending florins like regular tourists, an old man smiled and scattered his bulky body all over the armchair and faced the children. His skug sheltered almost everybody, and then he asked… “Are you ready?” and his grandchildren gave him a yes nod. And so, an old man narrated!
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PostSubject: Re: THE HOUSE OF BROKEN HEARTS   Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:15 pm

Well, about four hundred nautical miles off the Coast of Ghost Island; far removed from the eyes of the blind sun, rest the ruins of an ancient city state, a once sophisticated mega city in the whole terrestrial globe, the land where rivers ran honey, milk and sweety things of some sort. A prosperous history of a gigantic cultivation, the myth of the book city where men took forever to die, the land of the well celebrated lives, home of the transmigrants, haven of the anachronisms, the finders of the lost constitution, a beautiful mountainous country, a better place every human being dreamt of visiting at least once in a life time. Beautiful beaches, continental peaks, delicious cuisine, charming hospitality and economic superiority of the territory made it the most envied republic in the whole firmament; the material one, and the other one, affirmative!
          The main entrance gate to the city was a book, and no mortal man dared to pass through it alive, only the souls entered the gate and so, no living mortal man ever entered and came back. But life in there was the future of the living world outside the book. It was the land of magic at the time of magic, where wizards and witches of the first order ruled for life. One day inside the book was almost a century in the living world; a child from the book was as old as a dead man deceased several millennia ago. Nopinia it was called, it bordered Romata from the South, and Yellow Dove Island from the Northwest. It was wiped off the world map during the reign of the Psychopaths, and this story is the only living map to the gate and I must tell you this; the city is in our hearts and as long as we live, even after we have gone to ashes and dusts, the city will always be there because out of it, everything came into existence. Words falling on deaf ears…
          Children were sleeping already and an old man never realized that he was just talking to himself; the man himself was talking without knowing which words were coming out of his little mouth full of potatoes and milk. The tray was almost empty, only a single potato was remaining, very little one, from a very close watch, some jiggers were coming out of it; an old man grabbed it and swallowed it without chewing because it was very little, he enjoyed the belching after consuming the delicious fatty jiggers. Very sleepy he was... very sleepy. The rain gods smiled the whole night, but he never bothered, he continued although no one was listening. He was talking to the sleeping children, just like lecturing an empty hall, words falling on deaf ears...
          During weekends and yearends; the place was flooded with tourists and whores from all the galaxies, and during holidays and summer vacations students from different universities and high schools thronged the restaurants and the hotels. During the night, the spirits from the land of the dead rebelled against their fate and forced themselves to enjoy the portion of the living; the greedy spirits, all the time, they thought of their already married wives on earth, the wives that bothered no more about them. Because a woman cherishes her husband most when still she can feel the touch of his muscular arms over her rhombus waist; extremely busy chopping off the rough edges of the lozenge pouch, at his back, the wallet is coercively drained by the nimble-fingered sweetheart, wicked love!
For sure, it was the most beautiful destination in the world. Ministry of Tourism and Natural Heritage made it one of the wonders of the world; the devil himself enjoyed parting there, but most of the time causing trouble, so he was casted out, sometimes wishing to go back to heaven and beg for mercy, sometimes wishing to commit suicide. Wonders shall never end!
          One day, one evening, in fact, one very stupid evening, a very stupid thought popped in my brain and I told my stupid friends to hire a stupid boat to take us there; it was the most stupidest idea of all time, the wizened stupidity that resulted into the enlightenment of the dimming light, the great illumination; they agreed and we scheduled to sail the next day. Because it was a bit far, we telephoned the boatman to know how long the voyage will take. The marine guy answered two days; we departed to our homes and prepared for the take off, the great sail.
I was so happy and delighted to sail across the great Nopinian Sea; it was going to be my maiden voyage; so I took all the stuffs needed for the voyage including the binoculars, juices, goggles, bites, a diary and a life jacket. My mother reminded me to take a bible but I forgot to take it because I was not used to read it most of the time. I preferred adventure novels to sacred scriptures, big sin!
          At the dawn we meet near the roundabout just opposite the Justice Road Children’s Park, we hired a taxi and the motor man drove off up to Pink Shadow Harbour. Around 6:30 A.M we left the Blue Olympus Cape and sailed eastward. It was the longest safari in my life; we reached our destination on the fifth of August, 1949. At the time, the Chinese Communist Revolution was almost on its peak. The imperialist nations already suffered from what they nicknamed WWI and WWII and yet, it was during the consolidation of the cold war (1947-1991) and freezing it was a refrigerated warfare. Docking at the shores of the Great Port Anipi, we took a rest and spent our night at the Ruingate Heritage Resort, popularly known as RHR-07.
          We met other students from our college there, they arrived two days earlier than us and they were sickened by the falciparum malaria. They died the same night, worries and fear penetrated into our iron hearts but we didn’t succumb to the threat. We took it easy and simple, during the morning we buried them just outside the resort because there was no other way. The boatman was nowhere to be seen and the attendants there at the resort suddenly disappeared.
          We packed our luggage and wandered across the Island, after a couple of paces, I turned around only to find that even the resort was all fabrications. What I saw was a huge stone with the words written “HE WHO WISHES TO LIVE MUST DIE FOR THE SAKE OF LIFE”.
---What the hell? Screamed Olympia, “Help Help! Help!” she cried bitterly.
---O My God! What happened? Asked Gilbert
---I don’t know, I can’t feel my legs, I’m dying... where’s Tony?
---He was here, I saw him just now.
---Call him for me please, am dying guys...
Gilbert remained speechless for a couple of minutes; he fell down at last, screaming like an old caterpillar, his mouth full of foam and blood. He was dying for sure, poor Gilbert, he died in great pain.
          I remained standing there with my arms akimbo, not knowing what to do; I cried and grieved bitterly, the island was cool and quiet. The sound of the waves ashore, water ducks and drakes shadowed the surface of the Eastern Nopinian Sea; the sharks and the dolphins beautified and terrified the atmosphere. The photogenic view and the landmarks attracted even the spirits. Jackals and the snakes inhabited the caves and the bushes; at that particular moment, I felt the fire burning inside my little heart. Thunderbolt roared across the skies of the island and the dust from the ruins poured the ground like millet; owls and falcons made it scarier, I remembered what my mother told me, she insisted to take the word of God with me, but I neglected. I wandered here and there looking for Tony, looking for any human being, but I saw nothing. The shades of darkness were penetrating sliver by sliver from the eastern horizon, as the sun went down; the giant mosquitoes came out and sucked the blood of all the living things including themselves. To the mosquitoes I was as good as the bloodless.
          I sat down near the Coconut tree and wept helplessly, poor me! I cried. Is this really happening? I asked, “Are you talking to me?” The voice from the other side chanted interrogatively as that gigantic flaming star was hurrying to hide its big eye at the back of the mountain. “Who are you?” I asked majestically hoping to hear the voice of Tony or another human being on the island; “Welcome to my planet little human, do not worry about your friends, they’re having their dinner right now, you may join them if you wish”. Where are they? Follow the sound of my voice, when you hear the drums and the horns, stop, take off your clothes and bow down, close your eyes and you will be there; for how long? I asked, soon enough, he responded.
          One, two, three... eight, nine, ten... I counted the seconds and the minutes as I was waiting for the drum beats. At a far distance I heard the shouts in a foreign language, the drums and the shakers accompanied with the horns and the flutes. I bowed down and found myself amidst the band of the tribesmen giant like the hybrid gods; dancing traditional songs vigorously, at the same time roasting humanoid animals. Some were eating trees and stones, others were reciting Dante’s La Divina Commedia, and the lyrics terrified my soul.
          They tied my limbs with nylon ropes and hanged me like a bush meat to be roasted, another one came and untied me, he ordered to put on my clothes; I said “Thank you Jesus” which Jesus are you thanking huh? He asked tyrannically, then he changed the ropes with those of metal wire and he said, “Let now Jesus descend from the heaven and save you, pathetic!” Do we look like humans? He asked and I came to the conclusion that they really wanted me to die. “You must die dressed so that you won’t shame yourself in the afterlife, there are billions of honorable people there and perhaps, your in-laws you know?”
          I screamed bitterly like a child, but nobody cared, and I told them that I’m still a student, I was suppose to go for a PhD in Canada by next year, and so I must live, but nobody really cared. As I was still standing upright tied, waiting to be roasted, the trees and the earth beneath my feet trembled, the lightning and thunderbolt roared across the sky, the stones begun to fall from the mountain, followed by an earthquake.
          As I was waiting to see the end of that scene, I saw the dead coming out of their graves, walking like zombies and vampires. On my left hand side there was a huge tombstone, there was a man standing on top of it, his face was full of scars and holes, he was smiling at me, gazing at me as if he wanted to say “long time no see”. The tribesmen ran away and disappeared to nowhere; I was trembling like a man driving a tractor, shaking like a generator or a man suffering from the Parkinson’s disease. I almost died of hypertension and a sudden cardiac arrest. My underwear was already wet, and in a twinkling of an eye the man was walking towards me, atop his head were the two horns emitting dark smoke and sparks, huge like a dinosaur, his moustache like an ancient Indian Banyan.
          The skeleton in a Masonic suit, he was after my blood and I could not allow such a thing to happen. I ran away only to find myself inside his dirty coat of many colors, inside that coat, I met the man who introduced himself as the late president of the Federal Republic of Nopinia, the name of that ancient city state which former glory and civilization rest underneath the ruins and the sea.
---What are you doing in my country? He asked, was killing me not enough to quench your thirst for power? He asked again. I felt the fire burning inside my little heart, I felt dizzy as I was walking towards the road of unconsciousness.
---What are you talking about? I asked, I killed who, when, where, how and for what?
---Stop pretending you idiot, don’t think me a blind. You killed your own friend, and here you are, you demon incarnate! Come out now... stop pretending to be an innocent student. I thought of deceiving him that I am dead but there was no such a time to pretend, thank goodness I was able to faint.
---Do not faint little rabbit, the time to avenge my death has come; you pretended to be the usher, and those guys used your little brain to deceive you that I am the one who can bring good fortune when I’m out of existence and you believed them. They told you that mankind want to live forever, but you failed to reason how can a mortal man walk out of his mortal body? So you must consider this day to have dawned as your last. Let me don’t waste much time and just kill you. You little devils suppose to die by my hand; that is the only way I can quench my thirst. Come on!
---You cannot kill me; (I spoke in turn as a defensive mechanism).
---You are dead, so go back to your grave where you belong; I am commanding you to go to hell and suffer longer in Jesus name, Amen!
---Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! “Clapping his hands”, you are very clever; so you know even how to summon the immortals huh? Hey Mr. Nicholas W.W.W (War, Wine & Women), the victory of the people, so you are commanding me to go to hell, and where is the hell anyway? Have you been there before? Come here you little chameleon, die! (He grabbed my neck like a monster and killed me as simple as cutting a warm butter).
          Inside that coat there was a book, an old book with old yellow pages; the book was entitled “The House of Broken Hearts”. When I peeped on it, I saw something like a door, it opened and a hand came out of it and grabbed me. I found myself inside the book and found life terrifying in there. After a couple of seconds, I was at the heart of Romata, outside a golden mansion with an electrified fencing system. At the gate there was a huge sign board reading “CITY ENGINEERS” I decided to join them. But I was not having any physical form, nobody saw me. So I hunted for the human body to dwell in. I stood at the town square, roundabouts and clock towers finding a clean body.
          At last there was a school boy riding a bicycle towards a bookshop and I was impressed with his spirit and tender body. He was going to buy the book, the same book that he was dwelling on. I transmigrated into him calmly and the boy took me home and several years passed, as the boy grew, I grew up too. When the boy met with his first love, to me she was my four hundredth girlfriend. Ha ha haaa! The children laughed, they just woke up after hearing the figure that grandpa mentioned. Go back to your dreams? Grandpa insisted, but children never wanted to sleep again, they just hated the beginning, they just wanted a happy ending. With their eyes wide open, they asked an old man; what was the name of your first girlfriend? Tell us Grandpa, tell us please!
---Now listen my grandchildren, the name of the first girl was Anita Martin, the second was Sophia Herman Tungi and the third was Senorita (Maria Rodriguez) from Mexico.
---Ha ha haaa! (Children could not stop laughing).
---Anything funny?
---Everything is funny.
     So saying, an old man continued…”The boy was very hot, charming and handsome…” He wanted to date all the girls in town and I became part and parcel of his life. He even changed his name “Ferdinand” and answered mine; “Nicholas” and he became immortal, and yet he lived a mortal life.
---WOW! Children applauded, the old man continued...
---Now go back to sleep, it’s almost morning.
---We want the dawn of the new day to find us awake grandpa, after all, it’s already another day, another dawn. We won’t eat or drink till the end of the story, yeah!
---Now that you will be fasting, prepare to die the next morning, because five days are remaining to finish the story, and normally at the end of the story, one man must die. It’s either the narrator or the listener.
---Just tell us the story grandpa; after all we are all going to die one day, it’s better to die knowing, than to live a very long life ignorant of the meaning of life. We want to die knowing, just tell us grandpa... So an old man continued…
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PostSubject: Re: THE HOUSE OF BROKEN HEARTS   Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:19 pm

Life inside the book was dynamic, sometimes it was terrifying, but most of the time it was entertaining and funny. The people in the book were friendly and very kind, girls were easy going and everyone used magic to simplify the work. When I started dating human beings in the book, things changed; love, as we all know, it was very powerful to change even the heart of the ghost. I tried to define it because its aftermaths nearly ruined my plan, but still I failed to uglify the concept. There are three types of love; the hot love, the lukewarm love and the cold or refrigerated love. Hot love is always active and sacrificial especially when it starts, lovers normally promise each other bigger things that even the gods cannot offer. For the rest, ask the wise man.
          Love is the sovereign preference of the soul; it’s the kingdom of fancy words and colorful games. It’s the territory of oneness: one man, one woman, one heart, one mind and one life. It’s one love that filled the heart of Sophia Herman, my endearing super woman. Seven bullets inside her breast escorted her to the early grave. Before she gave up the ghost, she left a very controversial will though it was never complete, but it was well noted. It was such a pity moment that an ink felt sad to touch the surface of the papyrus.
          She was at the hospital where she was admitted a day ago, at that time her guardian angel was roaming around the premises waiting for the perfect moment to take her soul. Sophia stared at me and told me to listen carefully. So I gathered myself and listened to the last words of the departing soul. She said, “Its dust everywhere, I’m standing amid this lunatic weather condition. From twenty miles away I can see frozen smiles on faces of some handsome tall buildings in town. My whereabouts is unknown; the dust has sheltered my presence and I can feel it from within. For an ordinary human being, it’s much better to spend a life time inside the bellies of the Abbadon instead of being here”. I didn’t understand what she was trying to say, so I asked her to come to plain words, but she kept on talking strange things, I don’t know whether that was how the dying people talk or it was just the spirit from the underworld talking through her.
          She asked me to bring her a glass of drinking water, I remembered how my grandma died, she also asked my mother to bring her a glass of drinking water and before my mother reached outside, she died. So I was worried, I told her not to drink water at that time, but she insisted that she was very thirsty, I gave her a glass of juice to quench her thirst but she refused. I came to realize that she really wanted to die. So I brought her a glass of drinking water, thank goodness there was a bottle of drinking water inside the room, but when I gave her the glass of water, she drank it and she was still alive. That was disappointing, but it gave me a glass of joy.
           After drinking the water, she started again flowing, this time like a twenty four seven radio station; “my feet are not mine, but they seem to be part and parcel of my body. They give me company wherever I go, but they are not good friends of mine because they don’t listen to me anymore. They go wherever they like even when I am asleep. I hate them, but they are my wheels, I cannot move without them; but why do they move without me? In the eyes of the blind, day and night are just the same”.
          This time she totally confused me, I decided to call the doctor, but there was no one around except two cleaners who were wiping the floor with a mop, they told me that all the doctors went to Romata Beach Resort; they said that their fellow colleague was having a birthday party, so almost all the staff members were invited and that the only people who remained there to care for the patients and visitors were: the cleaners, the gatemen, the keeper of the chapel of rest, the matron of the psychiatric ward and two nursing students who were completing their internship at that very day.
          I felt very bad, I wanted to become a doctor all of a sudden but that was not my profession, and someone cannot become a doctor over night. I asked the cleaners, where are those nursing students? My wife is dying in there and those so called doctors are enjoying the party? God must hear this. The cleaners busted into laughter, and then they pointed the door with the mop because their rotten mouths were trembling with fun. I rushed inside the office and found those two nursing students kissing themselves; they were watching pornography on their smart phones. When they came to their senses, they wanted to bribe me with their sodomy, I told them about my wife but that didn’t seem to be their problem. They continued with their professionalism, I left them there. I went back to the ward and found my wife the way she was before. She was still talking her Blaa! Blaa! Are you alright? I asked, but her reply was very irrelevant, she continued with her speech… “My heart is smelting, smelting in love. There is someone, someone very special, someone very sweet, and this delicious human being is very busy sweetening my heart with plenty of love. I am very happy, very happy because my heart is rejoicing, rejoicing in love. But it’s from this same sweet love that I am about to fetch my tears, same sweet love than I am about to find the root of my pain and sorrow.
          This sweet love that is now souring my heart with scarcity of love and plenty of lovelessness; in the first place, my precious tears were involuntarily showering my golden face down to my diamond legs at a very smooth speed and relaxed. Resting on my lover’s chest, crying like a royal baby, a royal baby on the throne of majesty, crying because of wealth and honor, shading tears of glory, what an emotional memory? How romantic? But now I am shading blue tears, my nose is bleeding green blood, I am sweating pink sweat and my wounds are showering my rotten spirit with purple pus. There is nothing red in me, nothing natural and nothing original; everything I see is fake, counterfeit and artificial.
          This love, this sovereign preference of the soul, my soul preferred someone, but I came to find out that my soul was blind, asleep and drunk. So I made a grave mistake by falling in love, falling in love with someone floating, floating in love, in love with a life jacket. Now I am alone and lonely, sick, tired and starving, starving not from food but love. My heart is broken, broken into pieces, and every second this brutal bulldozer is still breaking another piece of my broken heart into further tiny broken pieces. Now I will not only lose my heart, I will also lose my soul and bury my own existence forever; but I can’t allow that to happen, I can’t. The way in is always the way out, there are only four reasons that lead someone to make a move; pain, fear, joy and hope. But fear is desperate. I am moving out of this stinging love because of pain and fear, I will move into love again because of joy and hope. The four reasons are like success and problems. The visible presence of one is an invisible absence of another.
          If there is something big you can see, know that there is something much bigger that you cannot see because those bigger things are invisible. It’s just like being alive and forgetting the fact that there is death and that it awaits you. One must know that there is a difference between a teacher teaching love and a student learning love; but all in all, experience is the best teacher, and a teacher is the best student if experience has taught him or her well. But fortune favors the daring in case a student is well experienced than a teacher. Then a teacher who is in authority won’t give up because authority favors those in authorities; but then, this is just an alcoholic wisdom which only suits the drunken audience.
          The only thing impossible in this world is to lose what you don’t have. You cannot lose what is not yours. Not everything at hand is ours. Talking of love, such a thing only exist in books and in stories, stories which can only be narrated to mad people and in books which can only be read by the dead. I heard some mad men saying that true love never die, then a moderate fool replied; but it grows old and eventually it dies. Then a wise man passing by concluded the argument; love is a living thing, it’s conceived inside the heart, it grows, it’s delivered, it lives no younger but older, it gets sick, tired, hungry and just like any other living thing on Earth, it dies. And when love is dead, surely it’s dead.
          Love is free will, if someone truly loves you, no worry and no hurry. Surely it will be your portion but don’t sit down there waiting for it. Go out there and grab it. But don’t use force, remember; love is free will. Don’t force someone to love you and don’t push someone who loves you. But if they are making up jams in your heart, you can push all of them out and declare your freedom. Don’t burden your heart with so many hearts. Just one heart is enough for you. The more you accumulate hearts, the more you kill yourself because at the end everyone will demand you. So some will take your head, others will divide your balls, some will take your intestines, some will split your heart and others will end up with only finger nails.
          Truth is not constant, so do love. It’s changing over time. I came to realize that loving someone so much invites calamity and disrespect. Sometimes we love people who has got no knowledge about love and who are not ready even to learn how to love back. We love them, but what do we get in return? Lies, pain, sorrow, tears, betrayal, insults, disrespect and worst of all; silence. Sometimes you can tell someone; I love you, but what do they say back? “Thank you” and they just end it there as if it’s the Devil speaking through them. Why don’t they just say “I love you too” even if they don’t? Do you know how it pains to be rejected? It’s just like being in love with the dead or getting married to someone from another planet, Pluto perhaps. No even hopes of seeing each other even in dreams.
          We either do things for pleasure or reward, there is no third cause. We don’t only love for pleasure; we also love for reward, but what kind of pleasure and reward? Positive, we don’t love to lose, we love to gain. If you’re in love and you don’t see any gain, renew that love. If it’s not dead already, then it must be dying. Sometimes people just blame love for no reason, love is an investment. There’s no way you can open a shop, an empty shop and wait for customers; unless those customers are coming there to buy you, the owner of the shop. It’s just like watching an empty Compact Disk or reading a plain paper; you can’t get anything. People must learn how to enrich their love, they must invest heavily and positively so that in the end, they will yield more.
          Love is not like any other business; it’s very fragile, very emotional, very sentimental, very delicate, very serious and very futuristic to the extent that it must be handled with great care and skills. You mess up once; you destroy everything including the past, the present and the future. You cannot marry a pig and expect a handsome prince out of it. It’s just like getting married to a fish and expects to spend your honeymoon on the land. That will only be possible in the dreamland or in the scientific fiction where everything is possible. You cannot go to bed poor and wake up rich unless you’re a witch. Nothing happens without a reason and the reason is the mother of all. Even an idea is an outcome of reasoning and I will love again for a reason. Love is like a bus, if you don’t drive it, someone else will; but watch out, don’t allow someone to eat on your behalf and expect to get full and satisfied. Don’t allow someone to love for you, do it yourself. Love is responsibility; I will be very responsible for this new love I am looking for. I will be very punctual and truly I will fulfill my obligations without delay. But how do I get this new love? Shall I parade myself before all human kind and tell them that I am looking for love? But if that is what it takes, then I am ready for it.
          I am on a mission, a mission for love; but how do I start? Alright! As far as love is an art, am going to shape it on my own. I’m not looking for an anopheles, I am neither looking for an anopheline relationship nor some mosquitonic union like that of a master mainland and a slave island. What I am looking for is a total freedom, a complete liberty and a full independence of the mind, body and spirit. Comrade Thomas Sankara of the then Upper Volta believed that “He who feeds you, controls you”, a belief that consolidated his oriental philosophies and later turned to be the thorn in his own flesh when some demons conquered his temple in 1987. I’m not looking for a wealthy lover because if money is my problem, I could just marry a bank. But this doesn’t mean I’m looking for a poor lover, but at least someone very smart, productive, talented, and conscious. Someone whose heart accommodates none but only mine, I need that kind of a person. I am not looking for someone who will ignore my feelings, someone who will kill my talents and someone who will waste my time. I am not looking for someone who will take away my freedom of worship because faith is more private than…thaaaaa…”
She was mute, silence, speechless and never finished her last sentence. I thought she fell asleep because of talking so many words without taking a break and now she got tired. I never knew she was dead already. As I was waiting for her to complete her sentence, she never did. I remained there with my right ear over her dead lips but I couldn’t hear anything. Her sweet lips started changing and her face turned bizarre. At that time I came to realize that death is very ugly and scary. I fainted only to wake up the next morning, as the shades of darkness were departing through the walls, all the other patients in that ward were also dead but their relatives took them that very moment before doctors arrived.
          Around 10:00 A.M two doctors and three nursing officers arrived, everything in the hospital was messed up; the psychopaths broke the doors of their ward and destroyed almost everything. They killed their matron and at that time they were heading to the women’s ward. But that was not my business because how can all the staff desert such an important social institution and head out for the birthday party?
          That day I came to the conclusion that the spirit of death is never a friend and it’s not someone to bargain or reconcile with. It didn’t even hold it for her to tell me where she kept her ATM Card and the password. Such a greedy death, she lectured me the whole night listening to her underworld experiences only to die in the morning without even brushing her teeth. Who will kiss her in the afterlife? Will the preacher say that God loved her so much than I do? Death is not fair at all. In this life, it doesn’t matter what you possess, whether you own Taj Mahal, Great Pyramid of Giza, Colosseum, Chichen Itza, Machu Pichu, Christ the Redeemer, Petra, Great wall of China or even the Eiffel Tower; death awaits. Sometimes it’s up to you whether you belong to the highly expensive Freemasonry, the Bavarian Illuminati, the Yale’s Skull and Bones or the 1966’s Church of Satan; death has got no versions. You either live for nothing or die for something. To some people you can be a comrade; to others, a piece of meat for laboratory experiment. You’re the designer of your own destiny, you can design it the way you like, but there are some forces beyond our control, these are more powerful than us. Have you heard of the omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent super being?
An old man realized that all this time he was talking to himself, children were sleeping, he never mind, to him, it was much better to tell a story to a frozen audience than lecturing philosophers with the sleeping mind. He enjoyed much talking even though no one was listening, because he believed that this world is full of souls, if those inside the bodies cannot listen, then the bodiless does bravely. To him, he was always not alone, whenever he altered a word; he believed that there is always someone somewhere listening. That’s why you could find him lecturing empty halls, going to church in the middle of the night, or when he felt tired; you could find him reading plain papers or watching empty CDs.
          He died several times but when people tried to bury him, he was seen busy serving people with food and showing the guests where to stay, sometimes even leading them to the room where the deceased used to live. Most of the time people ran and deserted the casket at the cemetery when they discovered that he was always helping them carry his own coffin. He could die even twice or thrice a year, and sometimes all pregnant women in town could give birth to him at the same time. Sometime you could find him everywhere at the same time, that’s why they called him omnipresent superhuman; sometimes an old man, sometimes a little boy, sometimes an African, sometimes European.
          He was too talkative, unlike his brothers; he was always narrating stories to his great grand children, some of whom were believed to be him.  He enjoyed much eating boiled sweet potatoes and condensed milk, but he loved women too, because he enjoyed sucking their breasts and kissing their thighs. Sometimes you could find him talking nonsense, but he was very clever in employing figures of speech. For a woman ignorant of missionary love, he was always the best choice, but he never loved anyone; except potatoes and condensed milk. That’s him, an old man.
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Jo Africa

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PostSubject: Re: THE HOUSE OF BROKEN HEARTS   Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:20 pm

Good things never last, a man was made to live forever, but an old serpent did not allow that to come to pass. Doctors and nurses rushed in; one nurse was carrying a tray full of syringes and tablets, the other two in gloves were busy preparing to carry the dead body. The other guy in white coat with the Stethoscope around his neck told them to take the body straight to the mortuary. I waited for them to carry the body but they never did, instead they carried me, they thought I was dead but I was very alive, a mockery to the profession! While all these were happening, my four eyes were wide open like those of a dead housefly. I was breathing but no one noticed. Even that guy with the Stethoscope didn’t discover that my pure heart was beating. I don’t know whether he was carrying it for show off or he was a real hell of a professional.
          They took me to the mortuary and left me there with the mortuary attendant to take good care of me. The keeper of the chapel of rest stared at me straight to the eye and told me “hey dead man, why are you looking at me huh? Close those big eyes of yours before I smash them, you got the money?
          In the mortuary only the dead rich men and women receives special treatment”. As he was still lecturing me, another body entered; it was her, the lady queen of mine. The mortuary man asked the nurse, hey, what killed this beautiful angel? The nurse replied, internal bleeding. The nurse left. Now it was just between the three of us in the mortuary. It took the mortuary man three seconds only to jump out of his trousers, his cock very black like the back of a lung fish, very huge like a clay yam, towering the sky high like the tower of Babylon, crowing like a rooster, roaring like a hungry lion; he pulled off that gown and the dead waist could no longer hide. I don’t know whether the dead Sophia was aware of what was happening to her bowels, but the way she was twisting her waist, as if she was very alive.
          The blood was coming out through all the holes in the body, but that didn’t seem to be the threat to the mortuary man. He continued to push it like a mad bull making love to a baby goat, he pushed and pushed and pushed, he pushed again and again; I heard a sound of a trumpet from the back of the dead lady. As he was traveling through the valley of death, his poor penis strong like a crane was discharging blood like a river mouth pouring its water into the ocean. When he finished his mission possible, now the impossibility was to withdraw his stupid cock out of her. When he tried, he came to realize that his cock has grown dramatically to the extent of measuring almost half a kilometer long. He was moving in reverse till he found himself outside the premises of the hospital. A team of professional surgeons sent by the Ministry of Health alleviated the shame, on that day his manhood was slew in public and he died forty minutes later. A lesson of the year, even Beelzebub himself was shocked by the news.
In those wicked days when professionals thought that I was dead, I was somehow dead. I can’t really tell how I got out of the mortuary but I just remember how that stupid idiot raped my virgin Sophia before my very eyes. What I can remember vividly is what happened two days before the death of my lady queen. It was on Sunday, on that very day the weather was a bit windy and dusty. It was still in the morning, a decemberish breeze hit the windows and it was cool inside that I felt the need to hug someone. At that time to rape someone in my country was not a crime. But inside that lonely house who could I rape? No woman, no ghost, nor even a lady monster to come at my rescue.
          A man in the neighborhood that lived next door shouted as if he knew my needs; hey jungle boy? You need a woman? There are so many of them down the streets of Romata, or else why don’t you find a bitch or a duck or a monkey or a donkey or a cow or a sheep? They are easy going, free and romantic too. At that time I felt the presence of an alien fragrance near the door. In a twinkling of an eye I heard a knock on the door; I rushed from the room where I was looking outside through the window.
          I opened the door and behold! A beautiful, tall, black, dreaded sexy lady was standing right before me with her arms akimbo. Because of her dreads and her body structure, I thought I was watching a thriller movie. She pushed me back and I fell on the bed, what happens between a man and a woman happened. She was one of my ex-girlfriends, she came back from abroad that very morning and she made me her breakfast…mmmh! Bed breakfast, how sweet... Anita Martin she was called, the most hottest young juicy girl in the whole terrestrial globe; imagine a poor man like me ending up with such a top ranking girl in town, is that not a blessing? We went to the bathroom to take shower, oh my goodness! What a beautiful view?
          A true image of God taking shower with me, oh my Black G! Sometimes in life there are some precious moments that suppose not to end, we wish we could have them each and every day, but good time always doesn’t come all the time. We took our daily bread and went on an out of city vacation; the aim was to restore our former glory and a total renewal of our love. On our way out, we met Sophia who was also on her way to my place. Her intention was to make things right with me; she was the one I promised to marry. But she caught me blue handed with another woman, so now that the true owner is back, the true thief is also back and very ready to legalize her theft.
          For the sake of love and the promise I made to her, I told Anita to stop the car. That was the greatest mistake I ever made. Anita was not happy, she didn’t like it, first she just finished milking me few minutes ago, secondly; she is my ex-girlfriend and third; she is the one taking care of the bills, and even the car was hers. She swallowed her pride and glued her mouth. Sophia walked majestically towards Anita’s brand new Mercedes Benz, WOW! She wondered. Is this your car? She asked,
---No, I replied.
---OK, don’t mind, so where are you guys heading? Are you going to the beach or to screw the bitch?
---Sophia what’s wrong with you? I asked in bold tone. I knew she was up to something, she roared… “Hey Rastafarian do you remember me?” Anita jumped out of the car and cut her short.
---How can I forget huh? The monster who feeds on her own intestines, a serpent who will do whatever it takes to put on shoes, how can I?
          For sure at that very time Anita was really mad, the way she was yelling as if her mouth was shooting out magic popcorn. Sophia was still standing there as firm as an electric pole, speechless with her face down like the hanging gardens of Babylon. Anita continued to roar like a thunder and all the time her dreads turned over and over like the manes of the great Kansil Lion. I just decided to stay calm and watched the show, you know the women’s fight should be refereed by women alone, so I was just coaching them to continue with their oral battle; Mongrel on Mongrel, till Charon arrives.
          All the time Anita continued showering Sophia with the rain of words; her brand new Benz was getting rusty from the vibes of her bigger bums, her face turned bizarre. I knew she was about to make a scene as she was busy doing bizarreries. They continued exchanging hot words for almost half an hour. Let me tell you something about women. Throughout their lifetime, women don’t enjoy their beauty; even if they have bigger bums like those of an Elephant, only men have got the rights to properly utilize them. Both Sophia and Anita were perfectly created.
          The combination of properly shaped convex hips, round lips, spongy cheeks, concave waist, giraffe neck, sharp breast, soft thighs like aloe lotion and attractive fleshy calves like the bottle of Champagne from North East France. The chemistry was awesome. Their tenderness, their glamour and their splendor attracted my consciousness and I came to realize that both of them were weighing equally in my heart; but as usual, good things don’t last long; even the trees shouted when Anita aimed a revolver and pulled that trigger without hesitation; seven bullets found refuge deep inside Sophia’s breast and scattered her left mammary gland. Her heart wanted to stop beating but I think it didn’t because of her beauty.
          She was so beautiful that even the spirit of death felt shy to take her soul at the moment. Even the heavens were sad; the Prince of darkness himself was shocked. She managed to survive for twelve hours before resting in pain; very pathetic. That is how she perished.
My humble frozen audience who normally pays attention when I’m done talking were somewhere between heaven and hell.
*Children, are you there?
--- No, we are not
*Where are you?
--- We are sleeping.
I see, but I wonder who is answering, he must be dreaming loudly. Now wake up and brush your teeth, it’s dawning, find something to break your fast before killing yourselves with gastric ulcers, or else you’ll suffer from gastric flu and die in two minutes. Children hurried and rushed into the kitchen; after some minutes they gathered again for a story... At this juncture His Majesty the King was really enjoying, this is what he wanted, to hear the narratives from an old man.
          While there at the pavilion, he heard the hissing sound, he thought of a reptile that hisses. A snake, O’ yes, a snake is a reptile that hisses, and what is a snake doing there at the pavilion especially at that particular time in the night? When he turned around, he saw the face of a woman, a naked woman; she has been there for three days and two nights. During the day, she turned herself into a house, at night; she was nothing but a hissing sound that goes around the streets terrifying the neighborhood.
          The woman asked the King, “What really do you like from the stories narrated by that old man? Why don’t you stay in your palace and enjoy the loyalty from your subordinates?”
---Yes, your subordinates.
---Come to plain words, give me your meaning.
---Do I need to remind you Mr. President?
---Surprised? Don’t you remember me? Take a close look Mr. David Coin.
---So this one decided to speak, who are you? Reveal yourself now?
---Come on sweetheart?  Relax, enjoy the show. An old man knows exactly who you are, and that’s why he’s not letting you near him. If you want your life back, an old man must die. But he is very tricky; he can’t just die like a sheep. I am the only person who can help you in this. Believe me, this time he will die for sure, you just need to relax and wait, time will tell.
          So the King waited for the fullness of time, but an old man was not ordinary, he already knew that there was someone at the pavilion, and that was the reason as to why he kept on switching stories, sometimes narrating nonsense to those little kids. Seeing so, an old man continued, but he knew what was about to happen. Children did not notice; they just wanted a story with a happy ending. Optimistic!
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Jo Africa

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PostSubject: Re: THE HOUSE OF BROKEN HEARTS   Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:21 pm

The world belongs to someone else and we are just buying some time and go on our way. If we want to live an immortal life, we should walk out of our mortal bodies. Those were the words of Miss Sophia Herman Tungi, a Suligy by tribe; twenty five years old, one hundred and seventy centimeters tall, a PhD Student from Jonathan Tafreg Memorial University. She died with her beauty and her library; the one and only learned daughter of a poor peasant Herman Tungi, a country man who sold everything including himself for his daughter to go to school. Now his dream has been summarized by Anita who shot his daughter Sophia to death. Poor man Tungi wept day and night, nobody asked why there was no dust in his compound during that dusty time of the year. The answer was obvious; he cried day and night and his tears showered the whole place.
          What happened to Anita Martin and where is she? Back then only a new born baby could ask such a question. Everybody in town and in the outskirts of Romata Metropolis knew that prison was her honey pot and all the police men in town were her ex-customers back then during the days she was working as a harlot in Port Anipi, the capital of Nopinia, the most luxurious city on Earth. Rumors have it that she even managed to milk the police commissioner in his office. What name people didn’t call her? She was a snake incarnate, a devil incarnate, a monster incarnate, a hyena incarnate and all the incarnate in the world. Back then even the sperms inside my scrotum cried in pain when I was making love to her because they knew that I was wasting them to that sex worker, that call girl, that tart, that pro, that moll, that tom, that renter, that hooker, that scarlet, that strumpet, that harlot, that trollop, that wench, that woman of ill repute, that member of the oldest profession.
          One day she told me that she is allergic to condoms and that she is a strong believer in natural procedures. I asked her a simple question; “do you think that my penis is a sugarcane?” she turned her back on me and left me there naked; the problem was my suggestion of using spoon while she hate steel on the table, we broke up! She worked with Natty Lumen Studio as the Marketing Director for two months before towering to the Managing Director of a prestigious Alexander Zubek & Wives Limited; a company that was very famous for its production of drones, domestic robots and test-tube babies.
           She was a distinguished computer programmer and a professional Saleswoman of her time. Many days passed, the last time I saw her face was on a television; she appeared on some breaking news on RBC (Romata Broadcasting Corporation), since then she is only living in memories. The spirit of Sophia kept on appearing to me in dreams and other days in real life. You know my chest is not a warehouse so I told one of my best friends this story. His name was William Little Feng, the man told me to go and confess all my sins in the church. I told him “thoughts well received”. My sister Natasha telephoned me that very day; she told me that she was due to visit Romata very early that morning, so I scheduled for her pickup from The Philip Kassorobo International Airport, around 10:30A.M she arrived from The Yellow Dove Island.
          So, I postponed all my timetables and escorted her to the State House; the Yellow House sent her as a special envoy; with her was my cousin Jesus Eduardo who was the Secretary of Defense. At that time the diplomatic relations between Romata Metropolis, Nopinia and The Yellow Dove Island were deteriorating and the possibility of the World War Three was evident. So peace at any price was declared a human right. Republic of Nopinia declared a state of emergency and all the armed forces led by General Zablon Papers were marching across the streets of Port Anipi and Senoburg preparing for any war in the near future.
          So, the other day I went to see a man of God, I met this self acclaimed Vice Jesus on Earth, His Lordship Prophet Alexander Sango, the Archbishop of Purity Church Worldwide. Such a man of celestial rank, his belly swollen by over consumption of the church finances, a man who blesses paper money and curses coin; was such a man to lay his filthy hands over my head? Before reaching the Pastor’s office, I diverged and went back home.
          That very day I didn’t sleep, the spirit of Sophia came, her breast was full of blood and she was standing like a tree at the left corner of the room, her face in a great melancholy. She mentioned my name in a very romantic tone, “Nicholas” “Hug me please”; you know in such a moment I thought it was merely a dream but actually it was real. They say that you cannot touch a spirit, but some spirits appears in human form and in human body. Sophia was very real. It was her, but how come a person dead and buried already come back to life? Is she a Zombie or a Vampire? In a twinkling of an eye, the whole room was as bright as paradise, the aroma was very pleasant, and the scent of Arabian deodorant cherished my nostrils. For sure when dead men tell no tales, dead women tell some stories. My pants and my pajamas were already down on the floor. My bed turned shiny as a heap of diamond on a floor of mirrors. Such a precious room only immortals would dare say no and live. We were as two hours old married couple, we made love that very night; what could I do, if she came all along from the grave to my bedroom; how could I refuse just an ordinary simple human being like me?, a man who have got no even a cupful of magic powers in me. How could I dare say no? My case was different from that of a crazy mortuary man, that one was rape, this one I don’t know how to call it; was she the one who raped me or what?
          Anyway, what happened is what happened, let’s forget about that. That night I felt very special, she treated me very handsomely. But when I woke up in the morning, Sophia was nowhere to be seen, I was just alone, just me and my nakedness; my lips very bitter as if I just finished eating a poison ivy. I was at the cemetery, on top of Sophia’s tombstone. I shouted like a mad bitch raped by a giant donkey from Jupiter, nobody responded even by an insult.
          I felt very bad, at that time I just wanted to see someone, I turned around only to see columns and rows of graves written on top of them “Newton Papers, born 1776 died 1961, Hon. Philip Kassorobo (MP), born 1500 died 1995” and many others. I shouted again, this time like a hungry Bush Baby. I was very surprised by the years on the tombstone of Honorable Kassorobo; I remembered his story, my grandma told me that he was the oldest mankind ever lived on Earth since the beginning of the middle ages of the old testament era. He was a very famous Champagne Politician, he lived a very wealthy and luxurious lifestyle, but he died like an orphan dog. He tricked people with stupid promises, he told them that he was a man chosen by God to save the poor from their misery, so the poor ignorant citizen voted for him, and in the end this stupid blind dog barked at them when people were crying for help.
          He was nothing but a political entrepreneur of his time, milking citizens like cows, banning other political parties and glorifying his one and only NPRD (National Party for Radical Development) There was no hospitals, no medical supplies, no clean water, no teachers, no tarmac roads, no schools, no shoes, no clothes, no food, no better housing, no justice, no equality, no democracy, no money and everything good for the common people was not there. Grandma said that it was the reign of “Vote for me and see you next term”, all the politicians lived in the capital Romata; there they got all the insurances even for their pets. Back then in the countryside, school children were sitting on stones and mad bricks. All the princes and princesses of the wealthy politicians studied abroad; many went to Upper Kansil University in Yellow Dove Island which produced Doctors, only few went to Jonathan Tafreg Memorial University in Ghost Island, a three millennia old institute that enrolled only top ranking brave handsomest and cutest students with very rare aptitudes on Earth. Tafreg produced wizards and witches of the first order. The Federal University of Nopinia in Port Anipi produced Engineers. Those of men like me went to a nearby Suligy Bush College which produced Teachers. In that college, you will find a very irrelevant lecturer lecturing a very irrelevant course to very irrelevant students in a very irrelevant environment.
          All that time I was struggling to get the hell out of cemetery, I just wanted to reach home without being seen because I was naked. It was in the morning, I hustled till evening to reach the main gate of the cemetery. Nobody showed up and so I showed up to nobody. I was very hungry, I wanted to dig even a grave and eat the bums of the dead inside, but I was not having even a hoe. Later in the evening I managed to walk out of the cemetery, I was still naked; my cock was swinging like mangoes on a mango tree during the windy season. I didn’t follow the highway because with those traffic lights, people could think that I’m a wizard or the spirit of Kassorobo hunting for more votes.
          From the cemetery to my yard was almost ten miles, when I got there, I saw many of them. They were my neighbors, the police and their sirens. Everyone was barking like dogs in heat period; they broke my wooden door thinking that I committed suicide inside my room. They said that they haven’t seen me coming out of the room for two weeks now since I got in. You know, to beat up good people that is violence, but to beat up scoundrels, that is justice. How can someone just watch over my ways and my life day and night? Don’t they have anything to do with their worthless life?
          Reaching near the compound, I robed a lady passing by and took her wrapper. The lady shouted as she was chasing me from the back yelling “give me back my wrapper you madman, you want to rape me? Can’t you see am naked? Give me back my wrapper you thief…” she was about to call the police, so I dropped her wrapper and roared “arrrrr!” “You girls of nowadays, why do you tie only a single wrapper in the streets? You want us to rape you in broad daylight? Is your Chicken brain under your armpit? Hey you mellow fellow, do you think that the police will come to help you when the spear of my forefathers will be tearing your dirty clitoris apart?” She collected her wrapper and left with her little buttocks counting one two, one two, one two… Reaching the house; dogs, cats and even chickens were mourning; but because I was naked, everybody ran away. Nobody remained there; even the police commissioner disappeared in the thin air. They thought I was either a ghost or a madman who wanted to rape all of them, they left me there and I rushed into the house to put on clothes; the house was empty.
          Let me tell you something about this life my friend, do not under no any circumstances underestimate the power of a common man, the power of a man who have got nothing to lose, the power of a man who gives no shit. This life has got no proper definition, so don’t just laugh at someone you don’t know where he is coming from or where he is going. But let me remind you again, don’t say I am confused with my house of broken hearts, no; I am just worried that this might happen to you. These beautiful girls we meet on the way, some are just calamities, not every shape is worthy of love, some are just make-ups. Don’t say I am jealous of that sweetheart of yours. Sometime I keep on asking myself these little questions, what could have happened to the world if there could be no such things like love or emotions? And why did God decided to let such a powerful being like Satan to dwell among us in this little planet? Is God of nowadays on a vacation or he is just tired of us? Can’t we live without governments? Is it true that crimes are there because of the law or the law is there because of the criminals? Is poverty the curse from God or just the weaknesses of mankind?
          In this world, there are so many answers than the questions, the problem is that, we ask wrong questions to wrong people; but this is only because the right people are nowhere to be found, and this is why we end up getting the wrong answers. It’s just the garbage in, the garbage out. In this bright future, we must know people. The world is working with the connected ones, those papers counts no more.
          Remember, no boss in the world who enjoys paying salaries to his workers, so just don’t stay long in subordination. Create your own job, build your own office and be the boss of your own.
---“But grandpa we are still little kids, how can we create our own jobs? Is that not child labor that is against the law?” Asked the children,
---“The law doesn’t bring food on the table, it is there on the pages kept away from the reach of children, Jesus begun his mission when he was still a little boy; so was that not child labor? If you wait for the law to do everything for you, you will surely die thin like a toothpick, he who doesn’t work must not eat, remember?”
---Yeah Grandpa… (Applauded the children)
---The government has got no children, so do not consider yourselves the children of the government. You’re the mother and the father of your own, the government is your own brain, use it and you will rule the world.
---Thank you grandpa! The children added the logs on the fire and waited for their grandpa to proceed with the thrilling story. The grandpa continued...
          These days what makes man a man is not his manhood but his wallet and his face is the constitution of his own government, if someone do you wrong or tell you the naked truth you hate to hear, then your reaction will determine how stupid or wiser you are. If you want to know the other side of your friend, and then just do him wrong, you will hear how rotten you are inside him or her. But I’m not telling you to do your friend any wrong, just do him good for the time being. The spirit of vengeance is always from the other side. Just wait for the time because the time is always on time; and when time comes, light will be separated from darkness forever. Our friends are always our half enemies, we must be much classified.
In those days when I went back home naked, terrible things happened; I was shocked the same way someone may be shocked after seeing the Devil reading the Holy Bible. I smashed the door and rushed inside quickly just like the penis of a rapist. There was nothing inside; I waved my right hand in front of my face, right-left, right-left, I was not dreaming; I was not sleeping either, I was very conscious. Many years passed as if they were really passing, but they were not; I stood there holding the frames of the messed-up door for about fifteen minutes which is about three days in modern mathematics. I was busy calculating the summation of emptiness, the tentacles of nothingness, that house was not empty at all. It was full of bizarreries; that house needed a professional mender of broken hearts, though some broken hearts never mend, but at least the heart of the living, not the dead.
          Entire room was very scary, distant sexy noises could be heard from one corner, as if there was a woman being screwed on the floor, I asked myself “how can a man satisfy the desires of the dead?, can it be possible that the spirit of Sophia is still hunting me?” at that moment I felt very strange; I trembled from the cranium down the toes, I felt her presence from my neurons. The taste of her lips reached my shivering tongue; as if I was leaking a sweet, there was something hissing like a snake inside my mouth, but it was very salivary and very smooth. My mouth just opened itself and this strange object was making me feel like I’m making love to someone I love the most.
          While still wondering what it was, someone was massaging my thighs and my back, I almost reached orgasm and she manifested herself in human form; it was her again. I knew it from the very beginning. She was seducing me with her tongue, she wanted me to leak it; I asked her “are you not dead? You want me to leak your tongue?” she replied; you have leaked it already, why now afraid to leak it again? What? I shouted, who are you? I asked because I was seeing a very old woman with very long hairs and legs of an Ass like the story of King Solomon and Queen Sheba of Kush on the floor of glass.
          About twenty minutes later she turned very young and very tender, she looked very gorgeous than ever before. She told me that if it was not because of Anita and her fury of dilapidation, everything could be just fine now. She told me to calm down. Where are we? I asked, don’t worry my dear, we are under the ocean, it’s much safer here than out there in your world. She replied; but it was just like an imagination.
          Can you take me back to my world? I asked, why? Don’t you like it here? Oh! You are hungry right? I’ll bring you my delicious dish sweetheart; she walked out. So I did calm down and waited for the dish. She brought four jars full of blood and a slice of human flesh. It tasted very salty, but as I continued to eat, I came to realize that there is nothing more delicious on Earth like the flesh of mankind. The blood was still hot, she told me that those were taken from the very recent accidents; they were still full of life, very sweet, very yummy!
          I waited for so long to see the sunlight, so long to hear the cock crowing, so long to feel thirsty again, so long to starve; all the time it was dark and it never seem to dawn. The keeper of the underworld, Lucifer himself was having a birthday party, so all the agents from every corner of the universe attended. I saw so many people; even the big boss was there, almost three quarter of the famous wealthy politicians from Romata and Yellow Dove Island were there. Businessmen and women, celebrities and the so called men of God, both of them were there; it was on Friday, the day of the goddess Frig. I tried so hard to get the hell out of there but I couldn’t see any door or window; I just moved from here to there without even reaching the walls. I cried and cried and cried; when I was tired, she came and asked me “if you go back to your world now, will you continue loving me” “Yes, yes, yes” are you sure? “Sure, sure, sure” I replied quickly. So she let me out and it was still dark. I found myself at the road junction.
          This time I was not naked, so I just followed the highway to my home; I met a certain harlot near the brothel, she knew me very well, I have seen her before with Anita, so she came over and hugged me… “Nicholas, where have you been? Anita came here about ten years ago looking for you, do you know what happened?” I don’t know, so tell me…“She died in a car accident last summer, but rumors have it that those found in a wreck were all men, so that means there is a possibility that she is alive”. What is the day today anyway? “Today is October 04, 1990”, “October what? Don’t tell me that I have been living under the ocean all these years?” What? She was surprised; I left her there and walked away.
          I went back to that very house, but this time it was not empty; everything was there. But for sure everything was strange, those days at the cemetery; I can remember that it was on Valentine’s Day, it was on Thursday, February 14, 2030. But again today is Thursday, October 04, 1990? What is wrong with the calendar? Is this life going backward? Am I in a time machine or what? Nobody responded to neither of my questions, I prepared my dinner and called it the day; I was very tired, I slept that night like a log, I even forgot to lock the door; it was terrible!
          Let me tell you something, it’s much better to go to bed knowing how you will begin the new day, don’t live as if there is no tomorrow; but consider every day to have dawned as your last. Do not be afraid of Death, if you think much of it, you won’t be able even to brush your teeth. Just live as if you are an immortal. Don’t think of Graves and Coffins.
          Grandpa you’re scaring us, we all know that death is the punishment from God for those who goes against his commands, now you’re telling us not to worry? Grandpa, grandpa tell us, why? Are we not gonna die? Asked the children in great melancholy; who told you that children are not dying? Just live a clean life and wait for your death. What about the judgment day? Only the dead can testify and answer that question. Go to sleep now huh? It’s too late, aren’t you afraid of the giant mosquitoes? But children insisted the story to be told. Tell us more; tell us more grandpa, tell us about what happened, and so an old man continued...
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