Posted by on in Editorial
Speech by Oduor Jagero.  Maseno University, School of Arts and Social Sciences 15 Oct. 2014 Good morning everyone! I want to thank Dr. Omwalo for his kind words about my book and inviting me here to talk with the students, and by extension,to all the people gathered here today.  May be I should start by congratulating all the students for being here, doing what you’re doing, for achieving what I could not achieve. I failed to attain the required points to join the university. My marks were two points below the required. But a fail is a fail. There is no good fail. I had no luxury of going to the university through a parallel program.  My story is humble as it is special. I was born in the village and went to a village primary and high school. Many of you are familiar with Olembo Boys. That was my school....
©Oduor Jagero
Continue reading Last modified on
Hits: 1681 Comments
1

Posted by on in Essays & Novels
In the ten-by-ten shack, Maina, four years old, is writing his home assignment. Kamau, Maina’s dad, drunk and angry comes home. He wants to know whether his pregnant wife is carrying his child or not. He storms the house and descends on her with blows and kicks. Battered to near death, writhing in a pool of blood, Kamau raises a stool above his head in order to crush her skull. Maina, bolstered by anger, sinks a kitchen knife into his dad’s spine, killing him instantly. Now thirty-three years old, Maina is haunted by his past and tortured by poverty. He enlists himself into violent robbery. Then Love raids his life. Nyawira, a beautiful woman, steals his heart, begs him to quit robbery. He relents, but with serious financial implications. He must find an alternative means of survival. Maina becomes a matatu driver. Their first child is diagnosed with heart failure, depleting...
©Oduor Jagero 2014
Continue reading Last modified on
Hits: 2496 Comments
0

Posted by on in Essays & Novels
Roger was a hacker. The companies he had wronged hated him; the ones he’d helped to secure their systems adored him. But his peers, especially novices in IT, worshipped him. He never wore official trousers, shirts, or jackets. He never owned a pair of official shoes in his adult life, and he had a phobia for neckties. He bathed twice a week, never combed his hair, and could easily vomit at the smell of perfume.  He never, ever, wore socks, and his feet sweated. It was difficult to work with him or sit by him because of his pungent odor. His girlfriend said he smelled like sh!t, but she also confessed her addiction to his brainpower. They had dated for six years without having sex. Sex, according to Roger, was disgustingly messy, unhygienic, and more addictive than cocaine....... . . ..  . Oduor Jagero is the 2011 African Playwright winner and...
©Oduor Jagero 2014
Continue reading Last modified on
Hits: 1293 Comments
0
Posted by on in Short Stories
Today, we shall lay to rest a man who wrote fifteen novels, bore three sons and a daughter, and waited to see tens of grandchildren. After 95 years, we finally mark the sweet leap to yonder of my mentor, the man who build a global media company from scratch, and shook the literary stage with a simple quake of his pen.   Death is a function of nature that must activate itself at some point. We have no sadness or pain or regret in allowing the African Bull safe passage into that controversial realm – the other life. But we’re joyous to look back and see what I call the Kingdom of Sweat, the palace of pain, and the era of making the impossible emphatically possible.   By all means I am proud that my grandmother accepted this man. I pray a simple thanksgiving to the gods who kill great men...
©Oduor Jagero 2012
Continue reading Last modified on
Hits: 1750 Comments
0

Popular Posts

Top Poems

PEN MINES
Editorial
1
Məshē
Poetry
1

Related Posts

Editors choise

Archive

Loading ...

Subscribe

Your Name:
Your Email: