Chronicles of Fly

The eyes are a window to the soul; however most people have seen so much grief and struggle that their eyes are clouded with sorrow and are difficult to see into. Her eyes were different, every time I looked her in the eye I pierced right into her. First time I saw her I looked at her thrice, the second time I glanced longer than normal, the third time I did nothing but she looked at me with those brown eyes and I just couldn’t resist. Those eyes kept pulling me, when you feel that happening then you know you’re in trouble. I have been asked several times what makes her eyes different from all the millions of black women with brown eyes. Well it’s not the eyes themselves but what I saw in those eyes (besides the reflection of my handsome face). Sometimes it’s what two people see in each other that drives them to succeed, drives them to dream and gives them absolutely no sense of fear. When you take a girl on a pick nick (Thank you Katrina for double incepting the thought into my mind)

We all vandalized property in high school, naughtily engraving our initials into furniture, walls, and even trees.   All done in an effort to leave a mark to leave more than just a trace, to be remembered.   Some of those traces are still there (Haven’t gone back to Ongwediva to check if mine is still there). I was wondering to myself the other day while listening to my favourite country artists (No! not Taylor swift, I said artists, plural) Lady antebellum. What will I be remembered for? Have I done enough in the past 24 years to be allowed a moment of remembrance, will they remember me three summers after my funeral, or will I fade like my bones into the dust of lost memories. So I started thinking to myself what can I do? Maybe I will cure cancer, but then I am not a doctor. Maybe I will write a classic, but I can’t play instruments, can’t sing, all I can do is rap. Maybe I will lead a revolution, but then if I do that what will Job Amupanda do? Maybe I will lead the brave warr

The centre d’eseignement superieur en exploration et valorisation de resources minerals (CESEV) is a post graduate training program tailored to engineers and geologists from the french/francophone mining industry . What am i doing there? Well even I can’t answer that question; maybe the Director thinks Im smart. All i know is im now part of an exclusive club that only recruits a maximum of 15 per year. On the Surface it looks like a normal masters program, but look beneath and you will see that the students of CESEV are special individuals with special super powers in short these guys are modern day super heroes. Take Annas from Indonesia for example he has the extraordinary power of being able to operate his blackberry without touching it, amazing huh? But there’s more, Pablo from Colombia has super special flirting Powers, this boy could chat up a nun and she would give him her phone number, he’s scoring rate is questionable though. Princess Zhuldyz from Kazakhstan (As smart as sh

Before I became someone I met somebody way back when Nujoma was still president. There was an instant spark. She was quirky, slightly crazy, extremely funny and very dynamic. I was geekish bordering on dorkish and the slightly more laid back, calm and calculating type. She was the unconventional to my routine. It was what teenage romance is supposed to be, innocent and childish at times. I remember this one time we had a shouting match over one of her practical jokes, she invented this farce about being pregnant and her friends played along, I for one was not pleased and lost my cool (Blew my top like a volcano). As with all teenage romances we did not talk to one another for two weeks, then kissed and made up and started all over again. The cycle of love as I called it back then (meet up, break-up and make-up) when relationship’s were simple and were devoid of modern day complexities. High school was the best worst days of my life, it was bittersweet but somebody made it more sweet