"All right Domboramwari, everything will be fine,” she said.
“I want to urinate,” I said as I felt the urge to do so.
She nodded and waited as I just took two steps away and unzipped to urinate. Then I was flatulating aloud as I was urinating.

[size=14pt]“Domboramwari! Must you always fart anytime you want to urinate?” She exclaimed jokingly.[/size]

“I am sorry darling. But I think it is quite healthy to be relieved,” I said and smiled.
She giggled amusingly and I put my arm around her shoulders as we continued walking to my friend’s place. 


Bye-bye Mugabe

There was no noise, except the chirps of the crickets piercing through the creaks and crevices in the wooden windows and cracks in the red brick walls of my sparsely furnished room.  Nkosi was not snoring tonight, because she was breathing better now after three days of cold with the nausea of catarrh.  I watched her as she lay on the threadbare mattress of the only bed in our room.  The cockcrow rent the silent night and I glanced at the wall clock.  It was past 2 am. That was the first cockcrow.  I yawned and read the second draft of my article.  Nkosi grunted as she turned to change her sleeping position and curled up in her favourite foetus position like a baby. She would be calling my name very soon. I cannot join her until I have completed the final draft. I must blog this before we would leave for Bulawayo tomorrow.  This would be my farewell post before leaving Zimbabwe.

Dear Uncle Bob,
You do not know me.
You don't need to know me. 
I am one of the millions of your fellow Zimbabweans you do not know, and so you do not care about us.  But I have to let you know that you are forcing me to leave our beloved motherland.
I never thought it would come to this.
As Tuku sang, "Moto Moto, fire is fire", and we don’t have to wait until we are engulfed in the flames before we shout, there is fire on the mountain!
Did you know that a little kid and an old man were crushed to death in the stampede for bread today?
While your graceless Grace is busy shopping at Harrods in London, we see nothing but empty shelves in our supermarkets in Zimbabwe, except in your Spar in the Borrowdale Brooke where you and your cronies and goons like Ray Kaukonde, the governor of Mashonaland East province feast on all the goodies you have stolen from us.
Magumo acho chii? How will it all end?

That I who sang and danced on stage with Bob Marley as he sang "Zimbabwe" on our glorious and victorious Independence Day is now going on exile.  Why?
You have turned our beautiful dream into a terrifying nightmare.
Are you the same Uncle Bob I loved so much that I said I would name my first boy after you?  But I have changed my mind, because you that we thought was a blessing have become a curse.

I was shedding tears in my heart as I dug a grave for Mbira, a seven-year-old boy who had dreams of a brighter future of becoming someone his family would be proud of.  But your evils eclipsed his sun even before noon.  And silenced the sound of Mbira.  And thousands of mothers are burying the children they hoped would grow up to comfort them in old age.  Thousands of shallow graves dot the landscape of Zimbabwe, from Mashonaland to Matabeland.  I know you know how the heart bleeds when the bereaved harrow in sorrow, since you lost your own baby boy decades ago and when you lost our beloved Aunty Sally.  And I know that you have not found any comfort in the bosom of your graceless Grace to comfort your troubled soul.  For she does not have the milk of human kindness and without kindness there can be no happiness, but sadness.  And we are can no longer bear the sadness in Zimbabwe, because this is not what you promised us on Independence Day.
Uncle Bob, you have broken your promise and yet you do not feel any remorse.
But as Tuku also asked,  Magumo acho chii?
How will it all end?

I cannot leave without saying Goodbye to you, because I may not see you when I return.
So, Bye-bye Uncle Bob.



From: Bye Bye Mugabe (Short Stories)
By Orikinla Osinachi.
Still work in progress.
162 pages so far.

Is it not funny for someone to read a story and misinterprete it for no good reason?

Ndipe.

I prefer replies within the context of the subject and content of the post.

Ziddy,
What is happening in Mugabe's Zimbabwe is more horrible and terrible than my sympathetic historical fiction.

The complete short story is actually 25 pages and reviewed by those who are more informed than me, from Zimbabwe to South Africa and America. Rudolph Lewis, an American scholar has read it and published it. Another highly respected intellectual read it and commended the comprehensive research and I spent some time to study ChiShona, before writing it.

On Ndipe's misleading comment.
It is not rational to see a post and jump to conclusions without reading it.
Infact, it is evil and wicked to post an erroneous reply deliberately to mislead other readers.

Why were my comments and those of ziddy (I think) deleted? Moderator, any explanation?

Orikinla, as a writer, you should be open to criticism instead of being defensive and thin-skinned. My observation with some of your write-ups is that some of them always contain an element of sexual innuendos. Plain tasteless, was what I termed it. And another poster (whose comments were suspiciously deleted) also made the same comment, about your morbid obsession with very tasteless and lurid subjects. Your prerogative in your write-ups does not preclude your write-ups from criticism.

Ndipe:

Why were my comments and those of ziddy (I think) deleted? Moderator, any explanation?

Orikinla, as a writer, you should be open to criticism instead of being defensive and thin-skinned. My observation with some of your write-ups is that some of them always contain an element of sexual innuendos. Plain tasteless, was what I termed it. And another poster (whose comments were suspiciously deleted) also made the same comment, about your morbid obsession with very tasteless and lurid subjects. Your prerogative in your write-ups does not preclude your write-ups from criticism.

Ndipe,
As I said, comment on the topic and correct me.
I love corrections.
I am learning and improving by corrections.
But when you mentioned things I never wrote in this particular story, I was shocked.
You said sexually explicit parts. So, I thought you were seeing things in this story.

My English is not perfect and I prefer comments on grammar, narrative structure and characterization.
SMC is the only one who has obliged to do me the favour of correcting my mistakes and errors.
But others either don't read and arrive at their own conclusions or they read and drop their statements.

The people I love most are those who correct me.
Because, I hate flattery.

Only few of my over 30 short stories on this board contained illustrations of sexual activiites. The lurid or morbid illustrations are from what I have seen.

This story is on the nightmarish realities of Mugabe's Zimbabwe and not a love story.
I was wondering if urinating was one of the sexually explicit parts you mentioned. Or could it be the foetus sleeping position of Nkosi in bed?
Or did her sleeping position remind you of the rear end of your lover?

Our views are often based on our consciousness. And on our social and psychological backgrounds.
Others may see the picture of a naked woman as obscene, but to others, it is just another illustration of the female anatomy.
Not every illustration of sex is pornography.

Some pedestrian visitors in transit online and search engine robots have already seen your erroneous statement on the historical fiction on Mugabe and the impression is, the author must have written about sex.

The Amazon Short version of Bye Bye Mugabe is out and available in digital format on Amazon.

The print version will be included in the book of my selected short stories of the same title to be released later. The book of my first collection of short stories must be perfect. So, I am taking my time to make sure that the stories pass through the mill of a seasoned editor.

You can read more on the "Bye Bye Mugabe" blog.

Hey Orikinla,

I see that you have concluded with this. What did Karen King say? I have been away on holiday so I could not keep up with the progress of the work. I would have e-mailed you but discovered that I did not save your e-mail address in my address book.

SMC

SMC,
Welcome back.

I missed you badly.

I am doing my best to get you off my mind, but I have failed to stop thinking about you.
Why?
I cannot stop.
I am thinking of the risks of asking you to elope with me, but if you are reluctant, I have to kidnap you.
Kidnapped for Love!

Kidnap you and keep you on Takwa Bay in Lagos for as long as I wish and after 9 months, Orikinla.Jr, would be in our arms.

None of my female companions appreciates literature as you do and you know my literature is the elixir of my life and I need the Muse of the Elixir of my life.

One of them is busy babbling on her blog.
The one in America whined that her sister warned her that I would break her heart.
The attorney is clueless about my works and the others are intellectual morons.

Is it not tragic to be surrounded by those who confess and profess they love you, but do not even care about your intellectual goals and only want their carnal desires to be your passions?

No.
I have not concluded on Bye Bye Mugabe.
The copy you edited is the copy I am passing on to Karen King-Aribisala with all the selected short stories for the book.

need to see a therapist

Ehem,
You need to read more.

I recommend, Woody Allen.

ehem:

need to see a therapist

roflmao