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Silomasays

Mutanu Chronicles

Spiritual

Life & People

Wicked Woman

My Life Was Prison

Poetry

Remind Me of Who I Am

Lord, no matter how much I fix my gaze This haze that fogs and blurs my vision Constantly draws me back from my mission No matter how...

The Heart

The heart is deceitful yet contrite It can be impertinent and unforgiving Holding deep the pain of previous misfortunes Swelling your veins from the bad blood you...

Fiction

I Have Nothing To Thank God For

There are two Mama Oliechs, one owns a fine eatery and the other is deep in the slums of Kibera, the mother to a...

The Lost Tear

I was walking along Tom Mboya street, worn out from another rough day at work. Rebecca's words and Macha's daily preachings were like incessant...