On The Amygdala Chair With Dr Agatha (To Use Me as You Wish)

Agatha Bagshot

The couple enter the red sandstone building in the west end of town and at the far end of the art deco lobby press the call button for the antique elevator.

As David holds her hand Sally goes through the previous week’s ‘homework’ exercises in her mind again. Yes, she’s done everything as instructed this last week. The mindfulness exercises are getting easier every day.

The third floor corridor they walk along appears have retained its original 30s décor. Wall mounted Tiffany wall uplighters illuminate the white ceiling on alternate sides every 20 feet, above a run of glazed floral features and patinad shoulder-height emerald tiles. Opposite each light stands a heavily varnished dark wood door punctuated with thick glass panels.

They stop at a door bearing two brass numbers above a heavy knocker. It would be rude not to make use of it.

A husky Scottish voice bids…

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Mbiralue | Language

Before this was a collection of comprehensive thought. It was a mental mess.

I woke up to a perfect morning.

Rain pattering on the window.

The sky whispered a calm welcome to my day.

A day that I shared with everyone. A day that was either the present, the past, or the future for every person, everywhere.

Every noise outside my walls whispered in twilight chorus.

I paced within myself searching for purpose.

A poem called me by name.

I failed to return the favor.

I left peace in bed.

Picking up where we left off our journey as strangers.

I found release and breathe atop each mountain I climbed.

I mimicked my shadow until I was no longer afraid of myself.

My walls became tenable.

My reflection joined my cloud of strangers.

My smile changed.

My reflection joined my cloud of witnesses.



I texted him that night. I had no idea why, I just did . You see, this man and I had not talked in weeks maybe even months, but that night my loneliness drove me to him. I found myself searching for his number and sending that much dreaded text. “Hey!”.
He replied immediately, almost like he was staring at his phone waiting for me to text him.

“I am in Kenya,” he said.
I was excited and confused at the same time. I knew he’d want to see me. He had missed me, I could tell by the way he replied to my messages.

“Come see me, I am at four points.

I hadn’t missed him as much, I had no feelings for him, not hate and definitely not love but I still found myself preparing to go meet him

. . . . . . .

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the blunt writer.

It’s been a while, everyone needs some type of isolation.


I was sitting outside in the compound watching the sun set over the horizon.

Africa was beautiful and I could not have picked another motherland.

I’m Eshe.

I had not really had time for myself in the last few days. I just came home from studying in the city.

Oh, did I mention? I live in the country. Well, not really country, but where I’m from there are definitely no Ubers on call. Ha!

I’d just been home for the holiday, campus was closed.

I hadn’t managed to come home in two terms and I missed the sound of the hyenas laughing at sunset and the sight of the sun disappearing over the hills.

I’d missed home. To be more specific, I missed him.

Him, whose name is actually, Ade.

Our parents knew each other.

We grew up together…

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This is so relate-able. So much of my adult life has been spent understanding the other face of compromise. Standing up for myself in a way that ensures that my pursuits experience the validity they deserve. We prosper if we are both winning. And I is a crucial component of “we”. Great post Kitty!

Today I stood up for myself twice. I spoke up twice. I expressed myself twice.

First occurrence was when I was shopping in Toi market. Now we all know how hectic this can be, especially negotiating a price. To make it worse, I was negotiating with one of those people that help the ‘shop owner’ sell with profit so they can pocket some. Long story short, I walked away from his ridiculous pricing and he followed me not long after agreeing to my price which was half of what he was pushing for.

Usually, I’d negotiate with them still, knowing the fixed price but giving them the benefit of doubt because, well, what can I do?

Second event was on a bus, of course! Smh…

I give out my fare expecting 450/= back but the conductor decides I don’t need ‘some’ of my coins and gives me 420/= balance. Calmly…

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– beauté & renaistre –