The Naked Truth…Albert’s Story

My name’s Albert and my honesty will be the death of me. Then again, my name is not really important, but the fact remains, honesty is a bitch and she is out to get me. That is, if the pounding in my head doesn’t finish me off first… or whatever is on the other side of that door.

I look back toward the bathroom. The blood on the walls makes my gut tie itself up in knots.

The pounding on the door has not stopped.

The right thing to do is to open the door, but that would bring with it a barrage of questions. Answers for which even I haven’t the slightest. I need to think fast.

i did not sign up for this; a detective’s story

I glance at my phone with disgust. If someone said that these things were the best thing to happen to the digital world, that they would improve our lives… Someone lied. All it’s been doing lately is causing me grief. Like now for instance.

It’s not like I wanted to do this shit in the first place. I had plans… big plans. Plans of grandeur and all that. But they kind of took a nasty turn. Put another way, I decided life was one big party. Nothing wrong with that I suppose. It just sucks that life doesn’t consider itself as such and it will more often than not let you know that by screwing you over. Hard!

Towards my graduation I was facing the uncertainties that many a finalist is wont to face at that time. No matter. I’d done just about everything I had to so I wouldn’t look back with my vision all hazy and think “Shoot! I should have done that!”

Then there was that incident involving the Notice Board. With a sheet of paper on it. With my name.

Yeah, I tore it and made a scan. I don’t know why I did it, but it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Actually a lot of stuff back then seemed at par with heights of brilliance scaled only by philosophers and what not. This was one of them.

 

What followed wasn’t.

A Break, Commercial in Nature…

Dear All

I had heard something about it, but now it is clear – the Ugandan Bloggers’ Happy Hour won the 1st Prize in the MS Democracy Film Competion.

What I really like about the judges’ argumentation is that they appriaciated a ‘different’ image of Africa, compared to the usual. Not because of the film’s technical quality, but because the story is fantastic: it shows an Africa which also has strong and competent people. Moreover they add that the film is made (I can personally guarentee you that) and cut with humour – a humour which is an essential part of Africa in spite of all its trouble.

Well, I knew it was gonna win 🙂 I think you all did an excellent job, on both sides of the camera and that it was fun and a real pleasure to take part in. Anyone up for a similar thing in Tanzania, let me know!

Do also notice this: http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Africanloft/~3/180567158/

Best Regards Pernille

The man in the mirror

I look at my reflection, at the man staring back at me. The man I have become.

He is a stranger. No recognition there. I look away, pained. How did it come to this?

An impulse to break the mirror registers. Briefly. The truth, the sad truth is there is no way I am going to make it go away.

My fingers clasp tighter around the cold steel in my hand. I suppress emotion. A tear escapes my eye and slides down my cheek. A lump forms in my throat.

One more look in the mirror, as though it will grant me absolution for what I’m about to do. What needs to be done. It doesn’t. A part of me realizes that its partly my fault. That I am partly to blame.

If I’d been more understanding, less demanding… If. So many if’s float back and forth, but this is not the time. The time for that is long gone.

Actions will have to do the talking. I will not be held accountable for my actions.