A cross the border of love

VE: MARATH

judge decides the fate of a man. Just as God decides to ki

trokes'. Woe unto you if you are brought before a judge who is suffering from a hangover or diarrhea. In a hurry to rush to the toilet, he won't b

udge, clad in his official gowns represented a kind of earthly God

storey of the Courthouse. Seated in the first row of the congregation was Francis and his wife. The civil servant looked like

arpenter, an ex- house boy to have a row with a senior civil servant over his daughter. It was equall

daughter of a respectable man. The charges went as far as stating that I had behaved in a way likely to cause a b

alling the police liars, one of my relatives had made it clear that he was going to help me file a suit a

father had lost his shoes, which didn't fit him properly in any case in the rush to get away from the bully who had no respect for the elderly. Another elder had stumbled and nearly lost his four remaining teeth. He explained that since this h

nts what to say against me. A couple of times, she opened her mouth to say something but when she looked in my direction, she became toungue-tied. Apparently

e judge shuffled the files before

Keitesti.'

estured for h

at man?' the judg

e said in a

etained you in his home

r trying to wink at her, but she avoided meeti

re myself and d

with biting ants. The expression on his wife's face reminded me of something I had read about Sodom and Gomorrah; the

re sighs a

d to to disagree with your parents becau

Ye

old ar

ghte

judge said, and t

ur,' I near

old ar

eteen

t is

t became a problem to breathe. Looking a cross at Francis, I saw him busy

ablished that Symon Bworo is a law-binding citizen who has worked for the plaintiff for a number of years, during which time he befriended Ameria, the daughter of the plaintiff. Some

with him and later detained her, is a fabrication in that Ameria

such cases. He even took the trouble to settle the possible dispute in an ordinary manner. There is strong evidence to support the alleg

bout his daughter's disappearance. Under such provocation, the plaintiff was bound to be rough with the accused when they met. If such a t

Bworo not guilty of the

re directed at me like the guns of execution squard aiming at the victi

e mature enough to differentiate between bad and good. Bworo is nineteen, a mature male capable of looking after himself. The

pub, the magistrate could have drowned in beer. Judge of judges, spotless cha

their legs had rebelled. Shielded by my supporters, I slowly walked in the opposite direction to avoid a possible confrontat

ting crowds. She hesitated for a while, looked across at her parents and