Wam Literature

                            My condolences continue trickling in, to those who innocently lost their lives. My heart is with the survivors, who now are trying to pick on a new life. I know that life will never be the same again for them, although give it a new look, and you will realize that it will be the same. My anger is with the second and the fourth estate. I hold my anger with abated breath and now I am breathing fire.                      The legislature has the opposition which checks the Government. The opposition asks the hard questions to the government which is expected that, the government will answer. Now comes the question, Do we have an opposition? I did not like the solidarity that was shown in the recent crisis because it killed responsibility, usurped in us the audacity to ask questions and neutralized the opposition and media.                            It seems as though no one wants to know what happened. As the clock ticks ominously, and night and

                                            Professor Kofi Nyidevu Awoonor told a story. It was the story of his death. He talked about the ancient Arabian tale about death, where an old woman went to the market and saw Death. She ran home and found Death waiting her there. The day was Friday the 20 th September; Saturday the 21 st Death was waiting for him at the market (Westgate shopping Mall-Nairobi.) “I am not afraid of death,” he said, “When people reach may age, we prepare for death, and there is one poem here I wrote about death.” He read to us the poem in his usual jovial self making jokes here and there. He was fascinating and very educative.                                                                                It was my first time to meet him but I felt like I knew him long ago. He made us feel appreciated as he guided us in discussing, ‘The Responsibility of the African Writer (The African Predicament.)’ at the StoryMoja Hay Festival. He not only inspired