“I like these poems,” Angela said as she skimmed and flipped through Joke’s diary and read some poems out:

“’I followed your trail in the dark yet I lost you, I searched for you in the light but couldn’t find;
Separately, oh I will sink, if I sail alone. Oh, at their confluence I feel you and I see you
There is no struggle between darkness and lighting: we are not living for war we are living for fun.
You don’t have to flex muscle through war.
Oh, he has struck you. But does he know why?
Time has set you against her; oh, you are now dropping those bombs
If you had understood Time, you wouldn’t have struck. Oh, dropped those bombs.
We don’t need swords, we don’t need guns. We don’t need missiles nor atomic bombs.
Don’t pull the trigger, don’t stain the sword. Oh, melt the guns. Oh, melt the swords
There is no plate for food and no pillar to pitch the tent’”.

“Wow! I love this. Did you write it or someone else did?”
“I did,” Joe responded, “I write poems as hobby, I also make a little money from writing them. I attend clubs, and go to poetry reading and gigs.”

“And you still have the time to study the sciences. Wow! You are a genius,” Angela said with conviction while opening the next page of Joe’s diary, “Let me read this too.

‘You are hoes and cutlasses in their hands of leprosy
You cultivate the land, you sow the seeds, and harvest the crops;
Yet they won’t wine and dine you; they don’t see you as people deserving of honour,’” Angela read Joke’s poem hand of leprosy, “Your words are so powerful and meaningful. You will be a great poet, politician and a good lawyer.”

“Politician? Hum! I have never thought about joining politics. I really don’t like politicians. Law isn’t a profession for people who have got skills,” Joe smiled, “A lawyer is an unskilled person who is really unemployable without a government. Moreover, in an idyll society, I mean in a society where the government consistently teaches the people about the law, a lawyer is dormant,” Joe said convincingly.

“Hum! In an idyll society. Are we in an idyll society?” Angela asked rhetorically as she sat back on the couch, “The world will never be a better place, if people who can fix it, feel indifference to it challenges. I know that Someday I will become a leader in this great country.”

“But who do you think a leader is?” Joe asked as he sipped his juice.

“I think a leader is someone who is not afraid to lay the cards on the table. One that his or her policies are discreetly and tactfully prepared that nearly everyone is blind to see the flaws therein,” Angela answered with a slow and serious voice, “But a leader is humble. A real leader knows they are to serve the people and sees himself or herself as a complement to his or her people. And sees no-one as a follower, regards the people as equal partners, because he or she knows a follower can only be someone without an idea. I think am qualified. Maybe, someday I will be the president of this great nation.”

“Wow! Excellent. Madam President,” Joe whispered with a smile, “I am from Malawi. Maybe, I will also become the president of Malawi,” smiled again, “I am even qualified to run for president here too. I have lived nearly all my life here.”
“Wow! Tell me about Malawi?” She asked as she leaned forward, “Haven’t you visited Malawi?”

“I visit Malawi almost every year to see my parents,” Joe responded.

“Tell me something about the people in Malawi?” Angela asked with a smile

“My family is from Rumphi. It’s in the northern district of Malawi. Many tobacco farming communities are there. The people in Rumphi are generally hospitable to strangers,” Joe responded proudly.

“Are we not hospitable to strangers too?” Angela asked rhetorically and stood up and said, “It’s time for me to go home.”

“Are you upset about my statement?” he asked.

“Nope! You have lived here all your life,” she responded.

“Hum!” You are upset,” he sensed.
“No, I am not. Where is the book you have promised?” she asked.

“Oh, let me go and get it for you,” he answered. Then went to search his room for the book; he found it and returned to the living room, “This is the book.”

“Oh, thank you!” she said happily, “I need to go now.”

“Oh, please, I need you to help with reading a poem through before you leave. I wrote it between one and three a.m. today. If you like it, then those at the club will like it too when I perform there tomorrow,” Joe requested as he flipped through the pages of his diary.

“OK,” agreed Angela.

“’You are worth more than the stars to me:
For their absence in the day is a proof of the fact that the king mocked honour;
When he bestows her to a man of no value.
Oh! Comforter, Behold the rose! With all the beauty that nature has bestowed upon it
Oh, it surrounds itself with thorns to guard against evil.
Let us elope my comforter, to the Island of Yoke; where our love is safe
Where river Owa is the source of strength. Where the grasses are greener and trees produce fruits in bunches

Oh, there will live our love and life as one,’” Joe dramatized as he read the poem out,
““Hurray! Love has lain her throne in the field.
Her colourless crown is a symbol of selflessness. Oh, her staff, an emblem of will.
The warmth of love hate has refused to embrace
The anger of hate is so gleaming; she has strangled love to death
Oh! She has also drowned herself. Now, her whole cannot be seen but I see a foot. Oh, she has left reason behind.

Can you tell me where people with no value have pitched their tents?
I behold arrogance in your words and I see that greed is guiding your noble step.’”

Angela was so excited and impressed by the performance of Joe, “I don’t like it. I love it!” she exclaimed.

“Thank you,” said Joe.

“Wow! I have spent almost two hours with you,” Angela said while she was moving towards the door.

“Ok,” Joe said and called on Juliet, his cousin, who was busy watching the television.

“Yes!” Juliet answered Joe.

“I will soon be back home,” Joe told Juliet.

“Ok! Good-bye, Angela,” Juliet exclaimed with a wave of her hand and a friendly smile, and Angela waved to her.

Tell us: Do you think Angela likes Joe?