Author: Oduor Jagero

Author - True Citizen. A satirical Kenyan thrilller

Harriet Anena is not as loud as many of my poet friends. At face value, she is a normal Ugandan beauty with the air that acutely contrasts her view of the world around her. But when you sit down with her, she begins to confound you with wit, depth and wisdom. She paints a collage of life’s beauty and her hideousness in ‘A Nation In Labour.’ She speaks as if her words must pass through filters. Her sentences are short but rich with adroit humour and laden – sometimes – with sarcasm. The last time we sat down together, she struck me…

A Nation In Labour via @theMagunga
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Every time she told me that she loved me, I asked what she really loves. But today when she held me this tight and said, “I really don’t love you. I don’t know how to love. Please teach me how to love.” I became free and told her that I don’t know how to love either. And she held me even tighter and with a warm smile she said, “Maybe we should just continue taking these walks together, share ice cream together, and laugh together. May be that is what they call love?” Then she looked deep into mine eyes…

Flames via @theMagunga
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After the call, and without thinking again, Festus, my only son, took the glass, half-filled with hydrogen cyanide, studied the highly noxious solution for a minute or two, and then ignoring the repercussions, he took it all in one swallow. The papers and gutters and the bloggers went ballistic. Mainstream press slightly toned their language; Government official’s son commits suicide in a love triangle, Ministry official’s son dies in suspicious circumstances. But the bloggers and gutter press went rogue; Business Mogul’s son takes a glass of poison, blows head off. Kingpin’s Son mixes cocaine and poison. Honcho’s son takes a…

Dead Love via @theMagunga
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After three years without even a wink from a man, Jessica will finally have a lunch date at 1 PM. She should be excited, but she is not. She’s apprehensive, confused even. What made him think of her as a prospect? What had changed? She had not injected cellulite into her buttocks, or silicon into her breasts. Her previous encounters with men left her with a sour taste. They’ve been fruitless encounters with boring, tasteless, sugarless, and clueless men. She hadmet men with pumped chests, blown-out biceps, and triceps. Others had chiseled faces, nicely cut lips and bright eyes. Others…

Jessica’s Lunch Date via @theMagunga
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