The Tenterhooked Dreams



Today’s ‘Graduate Monologues’ entry is a poem from a friend of mine, the man himself, Jones Ntaukira. A little introduction, first of all.

Jones is a Malawian blogger and social and environmental pragmatist. After busy schedules at Empower Malawi- where he is Executive Director- he still finds time to write.

 I met Jones in January 2010 in Kampala during one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. We hit it off immediately, and today, I am guaranteed a place to lay my head if ever I am stranded in Malawi.

This is a short account of some of his (school) life experiences, presented unedited.



'The Graduate Monologues' is supported by ShopyGFX.    Email:   | Phone: 07060512285  | BBM: 238E63A8  Follow on Facebook:

‘The Graduate Monologues’ is supported by ShopyGFX.
Email:  Phone: 07060512285  BBM: 238E63A8
Follow on Facebook:



Once a jailbird I was

With scores of rights, with countless freedoms

Golden jubilees of full moons – give or don’t seize,

Imprisonment to degree with hard labour

Carrels were my pen

Sowkowski was my warden

The Labs my chapel

If acetic acid was our holy communion,

Then Friday Lab reports were my silver and golden offering

I learnt that reduction is actually gaining


Glee took over,

Seminary saintliness versus realism,

Like a keyed up electron

Like the other end of a magnetic pin

Room by room in search of love

Spoke in strange inflection, imitating those that speaketh on big screen

Learnt to intoxicate my medulla oblongata,

My lectures about life in the red light district

Saying…‘come kiss me if you can’

Of the campus beauty and the brains, no mention

Still 4-nil the match was lost


Clock by clock days hide by the gate

The pardon came as a matter of fate

Full of oomph to face the wild

Before realising my graduation shoe no longer needs polish,

Little ones already decorated me Uncle

Frustrations fissioning like uranium particles

Next thing she is whispering the ‘good’ news- she is heavy with child

Phone ever silent as a chicken incubating its eggs

And yet the postmaster knows me by nomenclatus


I’m my own lead

On my own drive, on this pool road

With only one post, a danger warning sign

“Welcome to the world

Where pure agony is…,

Realising dog eats dog



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If you liked the poem or you have anything to add, please leave  your comments below. 

You can get in touch with Jones on Twitter (@realjonz), on Instagram (@j1s_cn) or on Facebook (Jones Ntaukira). He talks about the environment, life in Malawi and his other passions on his personal blog

See you next week!


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