We brought the house down. It was indiscriminate destruction of all things in sight
There was no mercy, no restraint. It was just deliberate, eager demolition
And yet our shoulders held up our heads. Our legs supported our bodies
We combed all places in search of all things standing. All sweet things – all takeable liquid things
Steady and shaky legs danced to all melodies Ugandan, South African, Congolese… But still we dared the lake with all unsteadiness, soakiness of throats
By the way, we’ll not call ourselves drunks. We are just conquerors. Victors of the pen, writers.
At the Caine Prize Workshop. Celebrating the final full stop. Bidding Garuga goodbye.
Journeys Within 