Edwin's Corner

The room was full of people drinking themselves into a stupor. The air was heavy, with a stench of disappointment. I was standing in the middle of a stuffy dimly lit hovel. Reggae music filtered from an unknown origin as I strained to see where my friend sat. He had lost his job, and soon enough his world had caved in. His wife of ten years had left with their two children. I found him slumped next to a full-bosomed woman. She had a melancholy and a distance to her eyes, lost in her thoughts and traumas. Their cups were half filled with a froth and a jug stood by waiting to be of service.    “Hey, here comes my friend!” Gerald said. He had a hopeless look in his eyes. He masked it with a tired smile. He had been drinking for two straight days in the hovel. “Please find him for us. He is not taking calls.” His younger sister had asked. I reflected on the good days when Gerald was considered an exemplar, an eloquent young man, with a bright future in an international tech compan...

  “That’s a beautiful question, young man!” said the spiritual leader, reposed in a chair on stage in the auditorium. A close friend had invited me to an event organized by the Jain community in Kenya. I was intrigued. We all have questions, so I attended, carrying along my curiosity. When the Q&A session began, I decided to ask questions and see where they would lead me. It was uncomfortable as I was one of the few black people in the meeting among a sea of Asians who called Kenya their home. It was an honor being before a person they revered greatly. From the way I was attentively handled, they were happy to have me there. Yet curious about my interest, and presence. My discomfort soon dissipated as I observed them invested in several rituals that strengthened their belief.   I felt a love and devotion more potent in that room among the devotees than in other religious communities I have interacted with. There was a submission to the spiritual leader, with no sel...

I was sitting in my house one evening contemplating the great ‘ why ’ .    Why had my weight ballooned?  My weight has been stable for the last year. Swinging back and forth , oscillating  between 3 kg .  I looked at my stomach pouch  that was storing fat in case starvation hit my country. I still had a six-pack, but it was fighting for survival like Atlas holding the weight of the world.   I was frustrated and felt out of control for most of the December holiday. My orderly, result-oriented mind wanted clear outcomes—military outcomes, including a finished draft of a book by the end of 2024. The book a sci-fi was draining, it took more than it gave. I didn’t know how to replenish my energy. In the pursuit of peace. I traveled to the village and in the calm serenity of my mother’s farm I finally settled on a schedule that gave breath to the book . I wrote fast , stitching the sinew, ligaments, and bones of the book.   A iming to outpace a lethargy...

The other day, I was invited to meet a senior military man. I expected a stuck-up person with poor social graces. ‘Tick a box and return to your comfortable civilian existence,’ I told myself.    As a young boy, I attended a military school and interacted with the children of military personnel. Military folk are warm when order prevails. Not so when they are dealing with chaos and discord. And I always felt a thin veneer of order kept them in check. For that reason, I always wearingly handled them. Yet from the moment I met this old man, he was the warmest, most joyful person I could imagine. He had a story to tell, one that needed my full attention. I sat down by his side and listened. It was one of pain and loss, one filled with deep emotional disturbances and healing. As I listened to him, I wondered how many stories are told truthfully and how many are delusions. Almost all the stories in the first account carry the teller's assumptions, perceptions, and beliefs. ...

One of the hardest things to accept is that most of us are unhappy with our work. We strive to make progress only to look in the mirror and struggle to keep a smile. Yesterday, I took a walk and watched the wind rustle leaves on the trees in my estate. As I navigated around potholes I contemplated a contradiction. Why is it we work hard to build castles with no foundation? Chase after illusions so that people can celebrate us.    The job, the house, the clothes, the trips, the accolades, Lord forbid that relationship you have; all an illusion to gain acceptance. If I asked you to take some time off and go somewhere secluded alone. Would you experience joy, or dread? The dread of being forgotten. Dread of your existence being irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. And for that, you hold on to this life desperately. Grudgingly.  Keep those castles up in the air with all the fiber of your existence. A few days ago my fridge capitulated after years of faithful service. I...