“Bar Man, give me two cold one!” said Dr. Mwape with a plastic smile on his face although he didn`t mind been addressed as Mister regardless of his Doctor of Philosophy title he got in the USA.
He had been drinking for the past 6 hours trying to clear his mind following marital dispute back home which has made him to stay out of sight for two nights now and tonight was going to be his 3rd.
“I said two!” he registered while signalling two fingers for the quantity of beer.
“Here you go sir but know that we are about to close”. The bar man informed the drunken man as he got a 50 kwacha note which Dr. Mwape  put on the counter.
“Who has given you the rights to tell me that-ah?” he paused and continued “I have just started enjoying my beer and you are telling me that closing nonsense!” “Moreover, who is the boss between you, the bar owner and me?”
“You are the boss sir”. He answered avoiding any possible confrontation as he came to learn this from his first days as bar-man when he used to reason with drunken men and women.
“You have answered correctly and for that you have earned yourself 20pin (K20) take it my friend”. He gave him the money and his drizzling eyes tried to fix on the two bottle of beer which stood in front of him waiting to be emptied but they looked too many and appeared to be dancing.
“Since when did you start dancing?” He asked the bottle and almost immediately got hold of them and put one under his left arm-pit and drank a bit from the other and began talking to it.
“So far you seem to be my own true friends, you and him here”. He paused while looking at the other bottle and continued “tell me, is that the woman I married, who is the mother of my two kids or that is a devil`s agent working under-cover in my wife Towela the most adorable lady I have ever known?” he asked.
“Yes I know that I was wrong kissing her young sister Carol but I am a changed person now!”
“Please don’t just look at me like that! Say something”. He said in a low voice and continued after some moment of silence.
“Honestly speaking, is it fair for me to cook for myself, wash my own clothes, and sleep in the spare bedroom”. “As if that is not enough, I am not allowed to watch TV which I bought using my own money and I can’t even quench the burning fire within me as if I have no wife!” he complained, drank some more and continued.
“I just slapped her once and it was a simple one but where did I end up?” “Police cells and spent two nights in that dirty and stinking hell of a place before I was cleared and we both underwent counselling but still she has not forgiven me!” He answered his question at once.
“How many times has she been slapping me, locking our bedroom door whenever I challenge her over something and denying me food?” He asked, paused and then continued. “Honestly speaking I am tired of it, I am tired of her, and I am tired of this dysfunctional marriage but I am not tired of Queen and Jack my little and lovely kids that this woman wants to take away from me”. He announced and at the thought of his children, he began imagining how they are since he never saw them the past two nights due to his late coming and his wife has been sleeping with them in the master bedroom.
He tried to look up but felt tears in his eyes and he knew that he was missing his family especially the kids.

“Hey, I thought you were asleep,” said Mrs. Mbewe while slipping into a night garment.
“Mnh.” Mr. Mbewe sighed and closed his eyes to get back to his sleep.
“Your daughter has made me laugh…you know…she was there telling me how I needed to kiss her goodnight. She said she didn’t want me to kiss her a certain way… ha ha…whatever way that is…mnh…you know, we come a long way…we were all once that age.. And oh!... the trouble to communicate…I don’t even remember myself at that age…we really come a long way…”
“Mmgh”…Mr. Mbewe sighed in response.
Getting herself comfortably in bed, she continued talking to her barely responding husband…“Do you know what I was thinking we should do for the kids?” Mrs. Mbewe asked.
“Honey…tomorrow…I’m really tired right now…” He responded.
“Of course…sorry for that… just got carried away.” She whispered.
She then switched off her bed side lamp and stared up the ceiling board, allowing different thoughts and memories to run through her mind. Unconsciously, she drifted off to blissful sleep with endearing dreams she would share with her husband in the morning.

Three bullies lifted her up above everyone. Every pupil and teacher was shouting, ‘harlot! harlot! harlot! She is a witch! the queen of incest!, yes she is!. Throw her to the ground!’
In a moment, she was in the air and at once felt her body crash land on to the parade square. Her knees and elbows touched the crashed stones and hurt from being bruised. Blood seeped from bruises. Her knees felt cold. Then the voice behind her shouted ‘stone her to death!’ When she turned to look, it was Kapala, wearing the suit that he was buried in. Then stones came rushing towards her. Before the first one touched her, she woke up. She was just dreaming. Her knees and elbows were cold. She was breathing fast and hard as her heart raced. Her eyes were opened wide as if they could scare away any prospective nightmare. 
She never went back to sleep afterwards.                                 
After about an hour from then, she could finally hear birds singing, the noise of car engines, and voices of early morning workers. Looking up the roof, she saw geckos chasing after insects and for a moment, she wished she was one of them...
No one passed by the house until some moment later. She heard the footsteps, ‘pa-pa-pa-pa-pa.’ Then she heard a soft knock on the door which made her to shake with fear. She could not immediately get up from the corner where she sat. Instead she wrapped her hands around her knees and stared at the door.
Every moment was terrifying. It did not matter the time of the day. The knocking continued at intervals for some time before the door slowly opened. A stranger hesitatingly got in. He was of a rather short stature, dark in complexion and wore a brave face. Her eyes and his met. Then he said ‘I am sorry I didn’t mean to break in… I am looking for Jean Kasonde. Somebody told me that she lived here… Do you...know her?’ Misozi said nothing but stared at the man cynically. ‘It’s ok, am not going to hurt you,’ he said as if he had read her mind, ‘My name is Bristol. I hope you know her. I asked for her address last week and someone told me that she lived here. Can you tell me where she lives now?’...
‘No I will show you where she is buried.’

“Moi, aussi. Et a la prochaine mon amie”(Me too and next time dear).
“D`accord, a la prochaine” (Yes, next time).
“Tu ma manque” (I miss you!).
“Tu ma manque aussi!” (Miss you too!).
“Au revoir!”(Bye bye!)
“Ok bye!”....she said and smiled big with eyes closed because she last spoke to her (Josphine) two months ago when she was leaving Zambia for Namibia.
“Its good hearing from you girl” she said to herself and before she could re-join the main road, someone greeted her.
“Morning ba Ruth!”
“Oh morning Angela, come in! I give you a lift together with your friends”.
“Wow!, thanks alot”, said Angela and signalled to her two friend, one wearing a Kansenshi Secondary School uniform and the other, like Angela, putting on a Blue Uniform for Convernt School which is next to Roman Catholic Church (Cathedral of Christ The King).
As she drove past Pamodzi Turn-Off, she noticed that many Schools going pupils were standing there waiting for their favourity mini-Buses to take them to school. Most of these learners do not normaly board any Bus but those with music system, good looking and God knows what else they look for, and the other sad part is that, in most cases they do not even pay full amount according to the Public Transport Taxi/Bus Fair hence resulting into unhealth relationships among some of these learners and Drivers/Conductors.
“So girls, how do you do and what are your names?”she asked Angela`s friends while looking into the side mirror to check on the Green Army-Truck and in it were some Officers who were learning on how to drive, so she had to keep her eyes open to avoid the unknown.
“How do you do too?”....”my name is...” the two said at a go, so they both laughed and later on introduced their names one by one as ‘Sarah Mulenga and Veronica Banda’.
“And how is school?”
“School is fine ba Ruth although some exam-papers had been tough especially Maths and Physics”.
“Oh yeah, that’s why I have seen alot of pupils in uniforms today”...”so, what are you writing today?”
“Today, we are sitting for Maths Paper II and English Paper II”. Ruth just smiled and later on wished them good luck because most of the girl-child usually face difficulties in Maths and other subjects which deals with calculations.
Veronica was left first at Kansenshi Main Gate and within few minutes she past Ndola Central Hospital through the Main Gate before turning left, past Ndola swimming pool and again kept left and within seconds her pink Spacio stopped infront of Dominican School Convernt as the security man or `the Gate-man` as most Nigerians will call them was opening the gate.
Sarah almost openned the car door but Ruth went through the gate and came to halt.

POSITION
People who take part in relays actually spend a lot of time training together, getting to know the strength of each team member as well as the weakness so that together they become a better team. Training not only betters skills but also disciplines the athletes. It is during the training sessions that they get to know who to place at which position of the running track as they get ready for the race. Positioning runners according to their strengths is important.
The fast and strong runners are usually placed at the beginning of the race. They are called starters. They give the team the head start they need to win the race.
Selection of the starter is done with much care.
                                                                                       You must wait for the promise
                                                                                                      in the right place.
The anchor leg is the finisher; this is the one who runs to the finishing line. However, you need to realise and appreciate that each team member plays an important role. Each member is required to work hard towards winning, whatever the position they are given. Anyone caught out of position may disqualify the entire team.
Similarly, anyone who is out of position in their life may miss their destiny. This is not something to gamble. When you are told to be in a place and wait for a promise, it is up to you who has been promised to be disciplined enough to wait. However, that depends on how much you want something. At times we get so desperate and impatient that we want to chase after the promise, it does not work like that. You must wait for the promise in the right place.
Your baton will surely arrive. No matter how long you feel it has taken, wait for it. You do not determine how fast it comes to you. You can only control how fast you carry it to the next person. So before it is in your hands stay there!
Let me take you to London Olympics of 2012 where the host country the Great
Britain got disqualified from the 4 by 100m relay race. This happened at the passing on of the baton from Danny Talbot to Adam Gemili who stepped off too early as he was about to receive the baton. The eighteen year old Gemili, slowed down drastically, but the changeover still occurred outside the designated area. Gemili sprinted for the line and came home second, but the fact he put his hands to his head told the story.
Gemili, in an interview with the BBC said, “I went off and maybe I went a bit harder, I don’t know. We really could have been in the contention in the final had we made it. It really is disappointing. I think I went on the check mark maybe a tiny bit early.”
This is how important right positioning is in life. Those who saw this particular race would agree that the young man has a great future in sport. However, many young people like him fail to maintain positions due to many factors; it could be lack of prior experience, anxiety, impatience, over-excitement, fear, or maybe just ill-preparedness for the task.
 
 

One intoxicated guy came from my back and pushed his way through the crowd in front of me. He hardly noticed or maybe he just ignored his dusty sandals made out of a worn out car Tyre step on my canvas. His foot felt heavy on mine that I was prompted without any second thoughts to give him a slight push off my foot. The man was sweating heavily and he was full of sweat smell. Wearing a vest that revealed his heavily unshaven armpits, he turned to me as he staggered on his back toward the other youth who pushed him in the other direction in frustration. “ Mmnh…niya how yemwayamba iyo manje?” (What is this now?”) Quizzed the drunk.
I turned my attention to the barman. Being approximately two or three meters away from the counter, I gathered courage to push through the crowd. Wearing a serious face I quickly pushed through the people round me as I heard some drunk full of smell from the opaque beer murmur some words in displeasure with my action.  My focus was on the barman, I had no time to waste on those around me.
Now there I stood face to face with the barman. He never looked at me but I watched him attend to other guys on my right and left side.  It was there and then that an idea was born, at the back of my mind. I stood there for a minute studying him before launching my missile which stood ready in its slot. I looked round me to investigate the kind of people that were there. To my satisfaction, it was a perfect time for the launch because the surrounding was conducive. No sign of danger or opposition in sight as I noticed all dizzy eyes and staggering youths around.  Clearing my throat and frowning at the same time in readiness for the launch, I took the aim at the barman.
-“Do I have to wait for the judgment day to have my change back?’
No immediate response I got from the barman as he passed the two liter container of chibuku to a buyer. A re-launch was inevitable and it had to be louder and right on spot.
-“ Boi nikamba naiwe…siumvela?” (My friend am talking to you, can’t you hear me?”)
-“How much did you give me?” asked the barman as he paused to look at me.
With my eyes fixed on him I lied having given him a twenty thousand kwacha from which I got chibuku for five thousand kwacha hence my remaining change was a fifteen thousand kwacha.
-”....And where is the beer you have bought?” he asked as he reached under the counter. Now that was a sign of triumph in my favor.  I needed only a few more words of conviction to confuse him more. “ulipa nsaka kudala” (it’s already with my friends outside).