UDEME RALPH

Dear Humanity,               Send an urgent message to the holy ones. Talk to your more godly neighbours; tell them things they’ve failed to learn; hold their hands and show them the way to the way. Not the way to eternity, dear humanity, for they know that already, but the uncommon way to common sense. You know them. You know those holy ones who wear special attires on special days to special places, but act and talk like you and me on ordinary days, you know those to whom every global blessing or disaster is the handwork of invisible super-powers. You know them, for they like to bind and loose, and love to speak about beasts and marks and signs of the end.               I know them too. They are with me and I am in their midst. I bear their name and they bear mine. We bear many names: Christians, believers, lovers of God, lights of the world; bu...

Dear humanity,       Pray for your black brothers. Pray for the darker race, for all to whom your present fate is still strange. Show them the unreachable depths of your pain. Call the numbers aloud, paint a grimmer picture of the figures; tell them the genesis of your current nemesis. Show these countless Thomases how you once brushed aside the news, and went to sleep when the demon first walked in. Tell them how the fake news from a foreign land became the daily bread in your own homes, how the Chinese virus suddenly bore the name of your own beautiful countries. Tell them, please. Sound an alarm to the darker race, not to be at ease in their falling Zions: tell them how it came like a thief in the night, and took over your lands like a flood.          Tell them it spreads like wildfire and gives blind eyes to ranks and titles. And when you’re done telling, pray for them, for all else has failed at this poi...

Dear humanity,            How did we get to this point? How did we, great humanity, suddenly become slaves to insects and germs? Are we no longer gods and demigods, and lords and overlords?   Haven’t we numbered all the stars of heaven, and have reached, with our telescopes, the innermost edges of the universe?   We’ve solved the dilemma of communication, have captured entire realities in affordable screens; we have sent our men to the moon, have had our places among the stars, have peered into the dark chambers of the human heart. Still, we remain wretched.           We say we are masters of everything but each passing day, everything humiliates and enslaves and rules over us. But we never stop boasting.   We call ourselves what we are not and had never been and will never be: we say we are the sweetest apples of Eden, the most enlightened offspring of nature, ...

Each passing day, we hear stories of men and women who took their lives or hurt themselves in some horrible ways, because of some unexpected betrayal, rejection, or grievous loss. Many people have ended their glorious lives because some other person’s life had come to an end; and many others have lost their minds because of some material loss. Recently, a story went round the internet about a certain young man who jumped into the sea and perished because he had caught his lover in bed with another man. Many stars and public figures have taken their lives in very miserable ways because of some failure they labelled colossal and final. Many young people have fallen into the pit of depression for reasons that, when weighed objectively, carry no real weight. Can we justify these voluntary sufferings as appropriate or even worth the effort? Should we hit our heads against the wall and suffer every time things go wrong in life? The real problem in life, if you look properly, is not the...

Some months ago, I came up with this queer piece about a misogynist who learned his lessons in life the hard way. I'll  post the entire story here, bit by bit. Enjoy! If you have the time, please leave a comment behind.                                                                                                                 CHAPTER 1     It was strange. It was annoying: it was impossible to believe.   It must have been a dream. At least, that was how Peter felt, as if he was dreaming, as if this was all in his mind. He had never seen this, never thought that his pastor, with all his education and anointing, would leave his pulpit in the hands of a woman. To what end? What did Nkec...