Thirty-Eight Years of Verbal Terrorism today! Verbal terrorism is not shouting but the refusal to lie with language or use language to lie. It is the nerve to name a thing as it is, without perfume, without apology, without the little social mercy that turns a fool into ‘a character’ and a coward into ‘complicated’. Literature dies the moment it misdescribes. When you paint over a subject, you do not improve it, you steal its originality and leave a prettier rotten corpse. Honest writing does not flatter, it holds a mirror close enough that people recognize their own shame. And people change when shame awakens in them. This world is crowded with the shameless because praise is cheap and truth is expensive. People love those who heap encomiums onto them. So writers nowadays have become makeup artists. They put lipstick on mediocrity, contour on emptiness, and call the result ‘nuance’. Me as Rukirabachwezi, I will not! If you are a nincompoop, I will not betray the purpose of speech by calling you a patriot. Description is an inviolable contract with reality and if you break it, you are no longer writing but decorating evil.