RONY BROWN'S SERIALS

THE END AS IT CAME Rony Brown Episode Two I scurried behind the counter with every fiber of my being trembling. “You!” His voice was right over my head. Why me? I dared to peek and my eyes met the dark eyes of the robber. His gun, unwavering, was right over my head. I quickly snap out of my reverie when he gives me a sharp and unforgiving kick in my gut. “Please,” I beg, “I don’t know anything.” “Shut up.” He cocks his gun. “You better get up now before I blow your head off.” I can feel something stirring in my chest. Rebellion? Anger? It does not stop the trembling but it makes me bold. I scramble to my feet and get a good look at the face of the person that is probably going to take my life. He is a fine man. Even with his scruffy look and a week old beard, I can tell in another life he would have made a fine doctor or something of the sorts. And looking into his dark eyes and at his strong jaw I can tell this is an honest man pushed over the edge;

THE MURDER CABINET Rony Brown Episode two- Mass murder. I hate the way all this feels familiar; the musty hostel room, the overcrowded lecture theatres, and the one-meal diets (and for me, that’s always noodles). I do not miss this at all. But finding Freda’s killer has come down to this so I better stop sulking and get to it.   DIARY ENTRY FIVE I’m sooo glad I decided not to miss HIV 101 today. There was this hot argument between D and the HIV lecturer today. You should have seen him, the way he asked what the HIV course was really about. He was like, is this course really for the students or for the school. Of course we all knew that the funding of most projects on campus was by HIV lobbyist. But the lecturer was not budging and was rather getting angry. Before long, there was a heated argument between the students in that theatre versus the lecturers. Wow! He's definitely something else. *** For this past week I have been sitting in HIV lectures non

    THE PASS-UP Rony Brown Episode two- the glass slipper   Today, we Siitians have erhm, something, that when roughly translated in the human language is known as a party . There is a reason, and a good one at that, as to why this word has no direct translation in my language, for once a year, we people of Siit pretend that there is hope that someday all head bashings will cease. But 'tis useless. For this day only incites people so they smash more heads the next day. But what can Sitianity do without hope! And yes, a day such as this day will definitely do the human some good.   You see, the poor thing is home sick. And since I have grown very fond of this little thing I can only hope that this party helps her home sickness. (Fine, she is a head taller than I am. But I am the all-knowing sage, so don't judge me!) I vividly recall the…uhmmmm… water she shed from her eyes, as though her eyes were waterfalls, when she told the family of farmers abo