I will keep my appointment with you. Will you be ready to meet me? I am Death, and I will not be late...
This is the story about an ordinary man named Joe Flannigan. He wasn't rich or famous even. Just an average Joe type of man. And he was taught by his parents, and their parents, that he was alive for a reason, that he had a voice in this world.
Joe had a wife and a daughter. He had a real good paying job. He had every thing but, his life still seemed so empty. What was it? He just never could settle for second best. He always had to have the best, be the best at everything.
Snake Undet My Pillow is a really story which relate exactly to most of our communities. Usually after the desth of a breadwinner and leader of the family, the remaining members go through a kot of challenges. This is more live in African rural hoiseholds who depend mostky on men as the head of the famiy
This book tries painfully to paint a clear picture of the brother and sister who went through **** as they fought for the right to head the Masombuka village and its people. At the epicenter of the problem was uncle Gwebu who failed to play his role.
Luckily before his death Chief Masombuka had scribled in his poorly written journal the love he had for his village. When Amos saw that journal and went through it he decided to quit the race.
The fifth volumn in the series, Book of Christian Short Stories is available now. Below is an example from book
Bless that Woman
Sit down Monique before you embarrass us all. I can't she said, the preacher isn't doing it right. The preacher looked up and asked if there was anything wrong in the third row. At the same time Monique said yes and Donna said no. They looked at each other and then looked at the preacher. Then may we go on he asked? Donna swatted Monique with her fan and told her to quiet down. Monique couldn't help but fidget around. The preacher started talking trying to avoid eye contact with the third row occupants. He couldn't help but see Monique squirming in her seat out of the corner of his eye. Finally he looked at her and asked if she had anything to say. Donna gave her a stern look but she just had to say what was on her mind.
As a matter of fact preacher I do have something to say. She stood up but Donna pulled on her dress to get her to sit down again. Nothing could stop Monique when she was given the floor. As a matter of fact Mr. Preacher I don't think the things that some of these kind folk need to hear just isn't hearing it. Oh I'm not saying it is your fault but some of these folks in here are dead as a door knob. They need some old fashion revival to wake them up. I mean the old fashion revival my momma took me to as a kid. Where the spirit came in and took over and we didn't care who saw or thought what because we were too busy praising the Lord in song and dance. That is what this church needs Mr. Preacher. Can you deliver? Well Miss Monique we do have a schedule to follow and none of that is in there. Now can we get on with our service? Monique rolled her eyes and as she went to sit back down she said, don't you ever say I didn't warn you. She sat down and Donna swatted her again with her fan. Monique closed her eyes and clasped her hands and started humming hymns to herself. Donna would elbow her from time to time and Monique would elbow her back. The preacher couldn't help to see the commotion they were stirring.
Even the congregation was clearing their throats an awful lot. Now sisters if you cannot control yourselves I will have to ask you to leave he said. Now no one talks to Monique like that. Why he might as well as told her to get out and stay out. She got up and started clapping her hands and singing out loud. If someone hadn't known her one would think she just done got possessed. Monique loved her church and she didn't want it to backslide because of a preacher that just wanted to adhere to a schedule that left God out. She went from row to row singing for people to get up and clap their hands and sing to the Lord. She told them to get up and let the circulation of the gracious Lord's blood move from their toes upward to their nose. Let your light shine she would holler and praise the Lord. The preacher tried to take back his congregation but many were following Monique and singing loud and proud. The Holy Spirit was once again in the church and the people were getting filled with it. One lady took over the organ and another one got a tambourine. They were praising the Lord so loud strangers walked in to see what was going on. The preacher in the meantime went to sit down by Donna. What happened he asked? Why did she take over my congregation?
Well, Donna said, she did kind of liven it up a little. She smiled and said she is just letting her little light shine. Well can you tell her to tone it down a tad bit he said? Donna said I will try my best. The preacher got up and found a chair in the corner and just sat there. Monique now had the whole congregation going plus several of the people that came in from the street. She happened to look over and see the preacher with a long sad face so she went over to him. Sorry I took over your congregation she said. But we have been needing this for a long time. He looked up and asked her if she got it all out of her system now. Can I go back to preaching he asked? Yes I will go back to my seat so you can finish your sermon. Monique calmed the people down and got them back into their seats and she sat back down with Donna.
The preacher got up and cleared his throat. He looked over at Monique and then the congregation. He started to preach his sermon for the day. As the preacher preached, his congregation was starting to fall asleep. Monique started squirming in her seat again. Donna swatted her with her fan and told her, don't you dare. You have done enough for one Sunday morning. You are not going to interrupt the preacher again. Monique couldn't hold it back anymore. She sprang out of her seat and started clapping her hands and singing as loud as she could to the old time hymns. Everybody woke up and got on their feet and followed her. The preacher threw his hands up in the air and sat down. He knew he wouldn't win. The people liked it when Monique took over. They felt more energetic and closer to God. They became alive with the spirit. Even Donna started singing and clapping her hands to the rhythm. When it was time to close the meeting everyone praised Monique and thanked her for bringing not only life but God back into the church. She was the last one out and when the preacher asked if he would see her next Sunday, she said, hallelujah, God willing I wouldn't miss it for the world. >
Have sat and questioned what the world feared most But found out is what I referred to as a good host I heard Death! Death! Death! And wonder what my friend has done to vex them so?
Have dined with what they called Him And found out its fear is found in Hymn Sing fear not, death I love you Then its scars will show in plain light and face you And you shall have pity of how ugly He is As He looks with jealousy of how beauty cloth you and hiss
He is just a man that has no home And I ask what difference of Him and thieves that kills at home? Or did also thieves give notice to come visit? And if given notice before arrival; Did He! not give notice with swollen head, large pot stomach? If so, is He tribal like you?
Fear not dearth, they say death When the man shall make you leave earth What you should fear is if He! meet you at that place after death call **** And if not, then you have truly overcome, by giving Him the biggest death Not death on earth but the highest death of death in ****.
Its not easy being alive to witness it Am happy for you
Is a day you get to hang out with your loved ones It's good
Its a day animal's cry not to die, That's true
But could you for a moment think about us? Could you for a moment clean off this our dust? You at the power seat, please listen to our plea's Could you all please come to our aid?
Many of us are at the street Picking, collecting what we think is free Many of our loved ones died in your midst All are now in our memory of pain without ease
What can we cripple do? What can we blind do? What is our stance? What can we mere helpless folks do?
We were not born this way But came to meet what we believed is fate Our only hope of survival now are dead in terror strike Now we hopeless has none to give to the world; But our little smiles ready to be sacrifice
We served as a security to the night We watched and scared away the evil ones with our madness We are of great contributors Else you won't value what you have As we serve as a sight to thank your creator
Time shall come when you shall never see us again Then you shall know what you benefit and gain As your charity order of worship will be in vain We are what we are
Please do remember us this celebration eve We the blind We the deaf We the widows We the orphan's We that contribute little to life
Ambassadors of Globalisation provides historical analysis of South Africa’s road of popular resistance to foreign domination to date. The book amplifies the assertion that what was widely construed as the entry of the country into true democracy in 1994 was and still remains an illusion. In fact, the Anglo – American Empire merely unleashed another tool of dominance in place of the old. Time had come for the Empire to co – opt some leaders of the liberation movement as partners to the crime of brute exploitation. However, the moment of respite the Empire sought to gain has proven unsustainable. Recent brutal suppression of legitimate demands of the North West Marikana miners attests. This book provides the narrative that contradicts the widely held view that Mr. Nelson Mandela and former exiled African National Congress liberated South Africa. Whilst the collapse of Apartheid was through multifaceted effort internationally and internally, internal people’s effort, seldom proportionately credited, was the center of gravity. Distorting this reality created conditions the Empire exploited to put into power, trusted surrogates of transition – Ambassadors of Globalisation. The resultant respite enabled the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank to entrench their liberalisation drive which gained speed under the Nationalist Party government that privatized essential State assets in 1989. It would be politically naïve or ignorant to contemplate exemption of a country rich in natural resources like South Africa from such machinations. For this reason, the Empire’s propaganda machinery elevated the name of Mandela at the expense of the likes of Biko who were at the center of gravity of struggle. The author concludes by proposing empirically founded solutions of saving South Africa’s incessant slide into catastrophic abyss. The National Development Plan, widely seen as source of salvation is dissected by the author to its ahistorical and delusionary essence. As long as citizens remain victims of toxic propaganda, the author contends, patronage to obsolete alliances and social superstructure elements will only perpetuate senseless bondage.
I took my time and fixed the many grammar mistakes and misspelled words in my story. I also had to do some deep soul searching on why I really wrote this book. I had to think about why I really wanted to become an author. What was my purpose for writing this story and most important of all what am I doing this for. When I got real with myself, I was able to truthfully answer those questions and feel a lot better about myself. I'm happy to say that now my mind is where it's supposed to be.
This is the revised version of my book titled Shades: Thug Life!