Memories of a Bald Black Writer

DIARY OF A BALD WRITER ​It wasn’t until yesterday that I came to the conclusion that my diary should be given a breath of life. Like a new wife, I craved to identify her with a new moniker, something that would reflect how I feel towards her. Several names befriended my aging thoughts, names that… Continue reading Memories of a Bald Black Writer

Diary of a Bald Black Man

01 ​It wasn’t until yesterday that I came to the conclusion that my diary should be given a breath of life. Like a new wife, I craved to identify her with a new moniker, something that would reflect how I feel towards her. Several names befriended my aging thoughts, names that at one time or… Continue reading Diary of a Bald Black Man

DEAR ABDUL (an epistle written in two halves)

IKE  Dear Abdul,   We had worn our best clothes to church that morning. It was a Christmas morning. Mummy, a renowned tailor, had made the clothes. The clothes were a family uniform. The type your family wore to the mosque last Salah. We had ridden on dad’s old Peugeot 505 and had picked our history… Continue reading DEAR ABDUL (an epistle written in two halves)