 |
Minshinii
Annette
Quarcoopome |
You
said kill him and our love changed. It was no longer
a quiet love that did not fight and did not scream. Kill
him. And my heart burned. You stole the knife from the
pantry. |
| 'Is
this not my great husband?' She said rubbing her palms together.
'So it is possible to see him everyday like this? I did not
know that the world economy would not collapse without his
business trips.'
'Maybe
he is not asleep,' I said glaring at her. |
Ayobami Adebayo |
 |
 |
Child's
Play
David Chislett |
“Take it nice and easy like, we won’t hurt you,”
the Hoody voice speaks again, “Just nice and easy up
into the park here and then you can go n your way.”
|
Don’t
be so dramatic. There are many sewing machines in Africa.
Maybe; but there are more machine guns these days. The tongue
that has tasted blood can no longer savour oil. No, my brother,
the dua-dua is dead. Long live the guerrilla. |
Singer
& Song
Chuma Nwokolo |
 |
 |
Warning
Shots
Domi Chirongo |
|
|
It had lurched into the sanctity of my parents’ bedroom.
Power, prying and guiltless, had forced itself into the intimacy
of our home, desecrating its sacredness and homeliness. 3 weeks
after the invasion, my mother’s bruises had not healed. |
|
 |
|
Taxi
Khaled Al Khamissi |
the
government has planted in us a fear of hunger. It’s
made every woman hold her husband by the arm and say to him:
‘Mind you don’t go out. The kids will die.’
They planted hunger in the belly of every Egyptian, a terror
that made everyone look out for himself |
In the morning they are woken up by heavy commotion. Mimi’s
house is filled with people and the police are inspecting
a neat pile of black ashes. A pair of half-burned brown boots
lie carelessly near the ashes.
|
A
Sister's Chant
Mncedisi Mashigoane |
 |
Walter Craveiro/Link
|
The
Whistler
Ondjaki |
“And
why do you call him the Whistler?”
“Because
he whistles!” Padre shot back, with a strange expression.
“Yes,
but we can all whistle!” smiled KeMunuMunu, the Travelling
Salesman. |
|
She is oblivious of the pounding mass that assaults the teacher.
He sits on the chair, eyes focussed on her lips. He makes out
that she would like extra lessons but he cannot hear her words.
He is reading her lips and watching for her tongue. . |
The
Teacher
Phephelaphi Dube |
 |
 |
Cracked
Uduak Isong |
‘Take
this for the weekend Mama, feed my baby well for me.’
‘Ha,
this is too much’, Mama would respond making no attempt
to return the neat notes.‘God bless you my son, May
everything you touch turn to gold.’ |
|
|
|
