Notes From The Gutter
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Accidents, camera-happy societies
I was on my way to town at the weekend when the ramshackle of a minibus we were travelling in…
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Accidents, camera-happy societies
I was on my way to town at the weekend when the ramshackle of a minibus we were travelling…
Read More » -
Caught in steward’s wrath
Our men’s circle in the ghetto took time off the usual rendez-vous to pay a visit to a friend’s nephew…
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A pick from Lilongwe bus depot
I was off to the commercial city to attend to some matters of ghetto nature. The call for my…
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Caught in steward’s wrath
Our men’s circle in the ghetto took time off the usual rendez-vous to pay a visit to a friend’s…
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BBC’s unfinished business
Atcheya, the ghetto’s revered tailor, has a nephew in college. Now, the scholar is spending much of his time…
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Killing our best talent
It was another sad nightfall. The ghetto lost a skilled carpenter who knew his chisel, hammer and nails like the…
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The bright side of mice and grasshoppers
It was the kind of afternoon better spent indoors—the sun inhospitably bidding farewell and the air getting colder as…
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Of harvest and suicidal forgetfulness
It is again harvest time and as usual, some Malawians are back to proving they have goldfish memories —…
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A brush with the ghetto’s power people
It was around 9 in the evening. I was coiled in my blanket when, my door wildly shook on…
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Are all foreign artists that good?
My best friend in the gutter is an unchained mind. We often sit by his veranda discussing matters as…
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Of what help is nakedness?
The village head’s compound fell dead silent. And as he always does when up in his fiery temper as…
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What comes with winter!
Republicans, it is again that time of the year when temperatures drop and prices of warm clothing shoot up…
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The preacher and the shoemaker
Our crowded market square in the outskirts of the city was hosting another busy lunch hour activity. From the…
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The mother with an Albino son
I had spent so long a time by the road I was now afraid some publicity-hungry cell phone company…
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Hypocrites without borders
The sun eased into the yellow horizon, retiring from a long day of baking the life underneath it. My…
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The rare ‘Kanengo’ reunion
I have special memories of ‘Kanengo’. You see, Kanengo the place slothfully lies on the outskirts of the Capital City…
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The ‘drunken’ men in uniform
There is some rot trapping our men in uniform into some regrettable inertia. I can cut a long story short:…
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Power of tea and buttered bread
For over two decades, that old shoemaker in our ghetto has maintained a strong love for tea. All shop…
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Of harvest and suicidal forgetfulness
It is again harvest time and as usual, some Malawians are back to proving they have goldfish memories—they exhibit…
Read More »