WE ARE BELIEVERS who do not believe in cutting other people’s limbs.
it does not matter whether because they have been caught stealing or,
lying in other men’s bed with their spouses stealing their conjugal rights.

Making love prior to marriage is not our thing. unfortunately, It seems
to be the in-thing. My twenty first century princess is in hiding. She was
twenty four when I laid my crooked eyes on her freckle-less, spotless-face.
We became an instant hit with the public. It was like we were famous. I did
not want to be well-known. Especially for lame stuff such as being in —
relationship or thought to be.

not soon had I met her that I was accused to be in a process of stealing
the township’s money. Blame a high school friend of mine for introducing
me to the borgeous.He apologised a year later and said he wanted to see
me doing well in life.I wanted to acquire some skills through travelling,
not to steal people’s money. My life has become bitter-sweet since then.
I could harldy walk the streets without people staring and making absurd
remarks.I hate to say this but, there is nothing funny in being discussed
by corrupt men and women behind closed doors.

It was discovered after investigation that I was not fit to hold office–
any office for that matter. I had esplained to the project owner firsthand
that my plan was gain experience through travelling not holding office —
as I was apparently thought to have been. Being a creative writing student,
I did not like my treatment at all. I called it a day and refused to attend
anymore of their meetings. In the beggining there was harmony till the
desperate entered the fray. Each time I converse with my future wife, am
thought to be trying to steal the township’s money by ghetto girls for her.

We are being crucified for our belief. I have pleaded not guilty but they
would not let me live — still. Am working and planning to be a professional
author. I wonder what I should do to get these thugs out of my thick-skin.
Their fear seems to be my future — nothing else.They say creative writing
is nothing. I do not believe them. They are growing more bitter. I would like
to catch the next train earnestly, the next plain immediately. I miss my
future wife. It has been too long since I had seen her — could hardly manage
to sleep.

It is like we are living in Darfur. Her in the north, I in the south if you
know what I mean. Meeting her means I would be able to give her a hug. It is
dishearting to realise that I would be alone this valentines day.Our diagnostic
biblical teahings irks fake believers who are harrassing us in church. They
say we are promoting Dogma. A has-been drinks poison and kills himself in the
process — i get blamed.I dislike my township’s girls with all my heart. They
have not been known to be faithful.

They call me a suicide risk because they have managed to drift my lover and I apart
Blacks! I do not give a flying toss about most of them.I just want my lover back.
Her tribe is accusing us of trying to create a stir between hers and mine. a minibus
taxi rank queue marshal told me:’our township is full of jealous, Unforgiving souls,
whose only hope is seeing us in jail.’

happy valentines day.