Posted in Random Pieces Of Writing

Rule Of Law Chapter 2

Genre: Suspense

If you missed were the story began you can find it here Rule Of Law, I hope you enjoy the read.

A corolla in desperate need of a new coat of paint glided to a halt in front of the Mutenda law offices. Yeolanda checked her mirror once again before going out, her little daily dose of vanity. All the while a few steps away from the car Terrence suddenly felt the heaviness of the pistol in his shoulder holster. His heart ran at olympic pace but his breathing was calm. Yeolanda closed her mirror then stepped out and headed for the office door with her keys in hand.

Terrence shook the coins in his cup and Yeolanda obliged by taking a dollar out of her purse and throwing it in there. “Thank you mam,” he said in a low voice.

A few seconds after she had entered into the building Terrence followed in. He found Yeolanda busy behind the front desk searching for the day’s meeting calender. She was struck with the usual horror business owners had when bums entered into their premises. But before she could say anything, Terrence with the swiftness of a seasoned professional had swung his pistol from its holster and now Yeolanda was staring into its barrel. Her hands instantly developed a twitch, her mouth went dry and she lost the ability to blink.

“Your father did this to you,” Terrence said with coldness in his eyes and as he took a breath bracing himself before pulling the trigger.

Yeolanda closed her eyes and said one final prayer before her life ended. She wasn’t holding on to any hope. Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass and Yeolanda felt blood splatter all over her face. She opened her eyes just in time to see Terrence fall to the ground. Well to her he was still the homeless man with a gun in his hand and now a hole in his head. To her left the front door had shattered indicating the bullet had come from outside but still suffering from shock, to Yeolanda this all hadn’t just happened.

Time was still not ticking and for a moment she actually forgot to breathe. As she began to digest the situation, the questions also came flooding in. Who was the man on the floor? What did he mean, “her father did this to her”? Who had just shot him? Was it mistaken identity? These questions were interrupted by Vincent a colleague of Yeolanda’s pushing the door open. 

Across the street unknown to most, in the first floor of a building supposedly under going renovations, a security detail had been posted there. The bill was being paid by someone anonymous with the directive of keeping Yeolanda safe. Safe from who? This question hadn’t been answered but they were watching her around the clock. They even had a post close to her apartment. But it wasn’t the kind of security you found in the yellow pages, they were simply people you’d be introduced to if you had deep pockets and dangerous enemies.

“What do we do now boss?” Asked the guy positioned at the window wielding the sniper rifle. 

The smell of gun powder was still fresh in the air and the barrel of the rifle still warm to the touch. All three of the men in the room were dressed in nearly the same dull colours, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. They all wore caps and had the built of active athletes with the stiff jaw appearance of members of the military. There was one guy who seemed to be the one in charge, he was pacing nonstop and the other was busy packing up as they got ready to close up shop with the third still looking through the sniper scope.

“I’m calling our beneficiary but let’s get ready to extract her,” replied the guy in charge. “Benjamin you’re driving and George be in position to get the girl.”

These were code names, chosen from the first names of presidents on US currency notes. Only the man in charge was just referred to as the boss.

On the command Benjamin began taking his rifle apart and packing it in a travel bag. He retrieved a 9 mm pistol and tucked it into his waistband. George was already out of the door and heading for the law office. The wheels were in motion and as soon as the boss got off the phone action would be taken. 

Mr Chindera was in his office going over the morning paper. Gone were the days when he went there to actually do any work. It was now just a ritual for him and an escape from his wife. In that moment he heard his phone vibrating and he checked his pockets but it wasn’t that cell ringing. He immediately went into a state of panic as he retrieved his secret cell from his briefcase. It couldn’t be good news, only the security detail looking after his daughter had this number.

“Hello,” answered Mr Chindera.

“Hello Mr C, we’ve encountered a problem over here,” said an extremely calm voice.

“What’s the problem?”

“There’s been an attempt on her, how do we proceed?”

There was silence for a moment and only breathing was heard. Mr Chindera contemplated his options and he decided to take the most drastic of measures for the safety of his family.

“Take her now and I’ll send you a location of where we’ll meet!”

In front of the Mutenda law offices just as people were beginning to gather outside, George felt his phone vibrate and that was the signal. He charged into the offices and without a word grabbed Yeolanda’s arm and dragged her outside. As she began to resist, George lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The SUV being driven by Benjamin came screeching to halt just a short distance from them. Yeolanda was thrown into the back seat and the car took off.

A few hours later Yeolanda was on a helicopter landing in Namibia being received by her whole family. The news was running with a headline that said, their house had just burnt down with everyone inside. She still didn’t feel safe and she still had questions.

-The End

Posted in Random Pieces Of Writing

Rule Of Law


Genre: Suspense

A slight fog lifted from the earth as the sun began peeking from the other side of the world. It was approaching the dying days of winter, a winter that had been much colder than usual. Streets were still taking time to come alive and even in full flow, business still seemed languid. Coats and jerseys were still a common sight as was the sound of sneezes and snivels.

It was just after 6 in the morning when he closed his car door and began making his way 400 metres down the street. Back to a place he had just driven by twice. It was one of his more awkward jobs, he hadn’t done anything like it. The worst part was that he had to smell so raw. It was something totally unlike him.

For a person who dealt in a world of arm twisting, extortion and assaults, he liked to keep himself clean. This morning however he was decked out in putrid rags and his face looked unkempt too just for good measure. For a man earning in the thousands per week he did poor well, he was the quintessential homeless man in this moment. He grabbed hold of his coffee and tried to seamlessly ease out his car into the early morning pedestrian traffic.

Navigating through the early morning streets he had managed to escape all wondering stares except for one. One person had however noticed a man who’s dressing did not match the car he was in. He blamed himself for not thinking a battered car would be pertinent to the identity he was trying to portray. Yet through his highly trained and adept intellect he had dejected himself further from his surroundings making him even less noticeable. Just another face in the crowd. To him skill mattered so was the quickness to adapt but uniqueness was utterly of no use.

He held a styrofoam cup full of steaming hot coffee as he began looking around taking in every inch of his surroundings. They had told him repeatedly at last night’s meeting, “You can’t be followed and no one can know what we’re doing!” A few minutes into his walk he was at his desired location. The law offices of Mutenda and associates, a rather humble outfit that occupied the bottom floor of a three story building. It shared it’s entrance with a salon on the 2nd floor and an internet cafe/fast food joint on the third. This made for an assortment of traffic through the buildings doors but such is Zimbabwe, the misunderstood and confusing was everywhere.

A few steps from the door, Terrence took a seat against the wall while finishing the rest of his coffee and began the wait for the law offices to be opened. He had studied the file on his target top to bottom, he knew how she looked, her favorite food, her preferred drink and even her shoe size. The styrofoam cup now empty was quickly converted into a container to beg for change. Terrence was now fully in his element, no one would give him a second look, he was now just another middle aged men who had succumbed to the ravages of a horrible economy and was left with nothing else but the streets.

On the other side of town in the epitome of middle class mass housing, a young Yeolanda unaware of events being set in motion elsewhere was getting ready for work. The first lawyer in her family, the first daughter in the clan to graduate from university and also the first daughter to move out of her parents house without being married. She was breaking the mould and pushing boundaries but to her it didn’t carry the weight everyone seemed to think it did. 

All she had ever wanted in life was just a little bit of freedom. It had started with getting into university and being given the chance to live on campus. Away from family, normal life and being surrounded by just your reckless peers. No judgements, well not really there was always the body shaming and the demand that one couldn’t just simply change their mind.

Yet all in all university was a riveting experience for Yeolanda. Approaching her mid twenties and eager to have some slight respite from her parents, she had decided to move out. She loved her parents, absolutely adored them but they simply had no notion of personal boundaries and much so was the rest of her family. The decision to move out wasn’t greeted by kind words though. Interventions were held but her mind was made up and people finally pretended to accept it. She still lived with the constant whispers of her name at family gatherings.

In her now home away from home she was far away from all that nonsense. The third floor of a five story block of flats. Tucked in between numerous others she had a single bedroom, half a kitchen, half a lounge and a bathroom with a shower. A shower that was however selective with its availability of water. Beyond 7 in the morning and before 8 in the evening, barely a trickle came out. It wasn’t the most luxurious living but it served it’s purpose and she promised herself she’d move again soon. The floors were tiled and carpet was in her bedroom although it was still not fully furnished. There was a unique warmth to the apartment.

In the present moment she was standing in her kitchen with a mirror in hand, adding a few touches of makeup. Her morning alarm had gone off at 5 am and she’d got into her now familiar morning ritual, which always started with her sleeping for five minutes more before actually getting up. After that she livened up, the prospect of another day at her job was exhilarating.

20 minutes later with her makeup finished and a donut stuffed down her throat she walked out and headed for work. A white shirt completed with a silver & diamond necklace and a black skirt with stockings and high heels. She never dressed down unless she was in doors. As a worthless quote she had read said, “There’s no greater weapon than always wearing your best look!” But a pair of sneakers were always in her car because you know it’s always good to be prepared plus you can’t run in heels.

Across the street from her as she left, “Subject has exited the building!” A burly bearded man spoke into a walkie talkie.

-The End

Posted in Poetic Driblets


In a world like this I dare to dream and dream big.

Tangle my insides and inspire my heart to skip a beat.

Close my eyes in disbelief as it seems unreal what I see.

Realize that the power was always hiding within me.

Realize that we’re far greater than what we think we can achieve.

Let the nightmares fade into distant memories.

Hear my heart whisper you can be anything.

In a world like this I dare dream.

Dreams I hope to see not just when I’m asleep.

Dreams I hope will become everything.

I mean why wouldn’t you?

There’s nothing greater than making your own reality.

Working your own art into everyone’s existence.

Painting your own tide in the ocean a new version of blue.

Dancing to the rhythm of a silent room.

It might not come true…

But at least you’ll reach the sky if you shoot for something that’s out of view.


(📷Image credit: @theproducer2017)

Posted in Poetic Driblets

Shot For The Moon

You were hidden by the stream, an unknown poison in the wild.

I was a lost soul walking through the jungle.

Silently hoping that you and I were on a collision course.

You had that burning fire and I found myself heat starved.

I didn’t want it all but I just felt if I got close

If I reached a certain point then that bliss would be enough.

Close did I get and with every moment I wanted more.

Then my soul whispered to me that sometimes all you just need is to be brave.

As our bodies danced as passionate as long lost friends.

Strangers at heart but we knew love with every touch.

We shot for the moon and sat down with the whole world for a view.

Yet you told me that you believed perfect matches didn’t exist.

I realized that’s why no one loved me like the way you made me love for two.

As I vowed to myself that I would make you believe in something new.


Posted in Poetic Driblets

Poetry In The End

In the open you pretend as if you’re just simply black and white.

You have other beautiful pieces of you I know you hide.

But I want you to know you shouldn’t be afraid.

Black and white is easy and simple

But I wouldn’t mind getting lost in those hidden different shades of grey.

I don’t mind the bad weather 

I crave to be caught up in a storm.

Taken up in a whirlwind that holds me and won’t let go.

In fact I sometimes crave a crooked heart with a body made for sin.

To share with me in the dirty pages of my dreams.

Two wild animals finally set free.

Let her soft melody twist with my words and have our souls sing a duet.

The rhythm of our chemistry, having our bodies vibrate.

Then all that’s going to be left will be poetry in the end.


Posted in Poetic Driblets

Dare To Walk

We always have dreams within our reach

Yet somehow the nightmares are always easier to see.

It’s funny how we find our fears easier to believe.

How our vision suddenly becomes blurry yet we saw clearly before.

How our walls of courage and confidence suddenly crumble

Even when it’s the slightest of doubts that has creeped in.

Is it the job of time to heal and fix everything?.

Are we to simply wait and hope that by times miracles 

Some day sooner or later all answers are revealed.

Or should we sometimes act to force times hands.

To push things to happen today that would have only come to life at a later date.

To feign control and dare to make fate our own.

Because if we never tried how would we know?

If we never spoke how could we be heard?

If we didn’t dare to walk we would remain in the same place.

Tee (Image source: @chipochashe_)

Posted in Random Pieces Of Writing

Breaking News: A Nation’s Hopes Realized

The day dawned slower than usual as the streets were still punctuated with the sound of the words “Asante Sana.” (Which according to Google translate means Thank you very much but Mugabe had given the phrase a totally different life)

Souls on the streets were still restless from hearing “Goodnight” instead of “I resign.” A 93 year old man with ashy hands that were shaking from just the weight of a paper had just dared to pull off the greatest comeback ever seen. Greater than the Undertaker vs Andre the giant at Wrestlemania 7, greater than Barcelona vs Paris St Germain in the 2016-17 Champions League season. It was as if we were witnessing a real life Frank Underwood, the ultimate mastermind.

Mugabe’s political party had given him a deadline of midday on the previous day. It was resign or get impeached but the old man didn’t seem fazed. He had called a cabinet meeting, he was trying to dissolve parliament, ministers were trying to bribe members of parliament not to vote, he wasn’t going down without a fight. As usual the sources were doing their job, filling us more with confusion rather than information.

I was quietly debating whether or not to delete some of my posts; 



I had said a lot of premature shit to be honest and I was seeing that, “undermining the office of the president charge coming soon.” Yet I comforted myself with the fact that half of the Zimbabwean’s on Twitter would have to be arrested too. But one could always be unlucky especially in Zimbabwe. Just ask Martha O’Donovan.

So as what had become the norm we were promised an announcement but I wasn’t holding my breath. “Asante sana,” had given me enough chest pains. But the wait began again, we had a cautious optimism that the impeachment would go through yet hopes easily faded when it came to this government. Because I was sure if 15 billion could go missing in front of 14 million people, surely impeachment could be escaped.

Though the people weren’t letting down, a picnic was held in Africa Unity Square opposite parliament with people vowing to stay there until we had a former president. University of Zimbabwe students were demonstrating also, they announced they wouldn’t write exams until Mugabe left office and their vice chancellor was sacked. They also demanded that First Lady Dr Amai Grace Mugabe’s doctorate be revoked. Apparently she got it for coming up with the conclusion that a lot of orphans have parents that have passed away. I don’t see why people criticize that, it must’ve taken every ounce of her intelligence to figure it out.


I suddenly received a ton of texts claiming he had resigned. I was like NO! I didn’t believe it. I immediately tuned in to the BBC and there it was “Mugabe resigns!” I switched to a couple more channels just to really make sure it was truly happening. 37 years, 37 freaking years of rule had come to an end. As soon as I finally took in the news I heard the city erupt. The scenes were unimaginable, less than 2 weeks ago a man who has roads named after him in almost every city had just had the airport renamed in his honour but now he was unemployed.




“Iwe neni tine basa,” (You and I have a job) but his job had just ended. The celebrations had just begun. I don’t think even the 4 days of samba on the streets of Rio De Janeiro during the carnival could match the atmosphere that enveloped Zimbabwe. Traffic came to a near standstill and there was just happiness as far as the eye could see. Young infants had no idea what was going on but they were out there in the streets with placards. I can just imagine what would happen if we won the world cup, as a country we would probably just die from celebrating.


The sound of drums filled the streets right into the depths of the night. CNN kept showing the crowd singing, “Hatitongwe nehure.” If only someone had told what the song meant. 

     Image source; Google images
People believed but they were never ready for the actual moment. The emotions couldn’t have been put in words. But even if they were tears of joy, I told myself I wouldn’t cry because of Mugabe.

Some politicians had welcome words but others uttered utter nonsense. I’m talking about Theresa May. The people who gave Mugabe knighthood and imposed sanctions on a whole nation for the actions of one man and stood bye while elections were conducted like a game of monopoly were suddenly the oldest friend of Zimbabwe. I must not know what friendship means or maybe BREXIT has the British prime minister with her countries confused.

Well the movie plans have already been put into action. Hollywood and Twitter are nothing if not efficient. It’s still debatable though as to who will play Robert Mugabe better between Don Cheadle and Forest Whitaker. I’m already writing my own alternate script titled; 37 years a slave starring Lupita Nyong’o. Living in Zimbabwe has been a near death experience for a long time, I guess it’s time we flourished.

People are saying it’s just a retweet but I know Don Cheadle is relishing the chance to take this role. Probably already practicing his accent and the Mugabe walk.

Well with movies already in the pipeline what do you think Gucci Grace’s (First Lady Dr Grace Mugabe) reality series will be called?

-The Real Housewives of Dictators

-Rob & Grace

-Keeping Up With The Mugabe’s 

  Image source; @comradefatso (The people’s washing line)

It’s the dawn of a new Zimbabwe but their always doubters and mood killers. The so called political analysts were out in full force fueled but not very well thought out conclusions;

“Mugabe might be gone but Zanu PF is still in power so it’s nothing different.”

“What then now that Mugabe’s gone?”

“Mnangagwa is just another dictator!”

I say to these people please give us our chance to celebrate. We’ve had AIDS for so long we welcome the chance to have a different STI or even CANCER. Because at least in some cases CANCER can be treated. Zanu PF might still be there but this change in still leadership brings hope for a better tomorrow.

Let a Zimbabwean dare to dream.

#Zimbabwe #MugabeGone #NewEra

-The End