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A mafia tells his tales

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A mafia tells his tales I’m unknown in the universe of the blues. I hustle with my claws and toil with my feet. I have married a new sun, the desert is my ex and weeping is the grave - I am the Mafia of this game, the game of striving to be the best striker on the field of life. Don’t remind me of the gone tales, I have buried them and I press toward the unknown hidden in the elegant paradise - a world of my own smile. I live not to impress but to express my inner gold which was once sold by the enemy. The kisses of my wisdom reflect the pieces of piles and tiles of my make-up, I have managed to separate the under from the asunder - this is my bible of livelihood . I have conquered the plagues  of lazy plugs, who loved to pray that I become a prey but their gales have become my girls for my fortune sales. I own many suites but not suitable enough to suit every occasion; my calling is sizzling and it won’t stop dazzling. My part is to dress the start, make sure I do
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Mugabe writes his obituary

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How Robert Mugabe wants to be remembered I was a liberator. Maybe a tyrant too. By Blessing Mhlanga.      10 -09 - 2019. Well, where should I start? If in the beginning God created heaven and earth, then in the beginning is where I’ll start. In the beginning I, Robert Mugabe became pregnant of a vision: to liberate my fellow black Zimbabweans from the perpetual catastrophes of slavery, inequality, poverty, racial segregation and the heavy heap of unjust leadership in the hands of Ian Smith and company. It is for this vision that I created countless movements and campaigns against the atrocious regime that had enslaved my people during the 1960s and 70s. It is for this vision that I endured a decade of imprisonment for trying to overthrow this vicious government. Maybe, it is for this vision that I stayed in power for almost four decades. For clarity purposes, I didn’t hate white people but I only despised their use of power against my people, through
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Opinion piece: Ancestral worship is a fallacy

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Ancestral Worship is a shameful fallacy By Blessing Mhlanga We cannot speak to the dead and there’s no such thing as the living-dead. Rituals involving animal slaughter, sprinkling of blood, drinking of concoction, talking to a dead person on their grave and consulting a sangoma for intervention is a spiritual deception that has enslaved the african people. For me personally, I am extremely ashamed and disgusted by my fellow black people who believe that a dead person has an influence on their failures or prosperity in their lives. Some cultures even believe that the dead are a mediator between God and the living; it’s a shame because they have forgotten that God is the creator of all men and he doesn’t need a human being whom he created to be a mediator to those who are living. According to Truth Magazine article, ‘if you displease the ancestors, it may be that they will kill someone else.’ This doesn’t make sense, why would my ancestors, who were somehow
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