We get to the field and watch the boys a little. Because we like games, we quickly pick up the rules. We start shouting tips from the side of the field. We have favourites. Scola’s brother, of course, and others. After a few weeks, someone gets tired of us stealing the ball and shouting so much and asks us if we want to play, since we know so much about it. We’re in!
Yet she could not remember her own name. She tried recalling all the female names she knew, certain she would recognise hers once she heard it. Fatuma. Naima. Khadija. Hawa. Malyun. Zainab. Ambiya. Batula. Rukiya. Ifrah. Quresha… None sounded like the name she would know to be hers.
a short story by Judyannet Muchiri.
I Other people die and stay dead. Others leave and never come back. But not…
The boat drifted on the endless sea, lugging the twelve remaining passengers. Seven men. Four…
1. If you ask me how my navel ring ended up in the back seat…
by Jane Doe —– I am in Mama’s stomach but she doesn’t know this yet.…
Mutembei keenly observes Mombasa beneath the inexorable sun, a town clinging on its designated part…
Madness entered Mama’s eyes the day Baba pushed my brother Boyi to Matwa Kei and…
Proceed from Part 2 *** The next day, I commit my first robbery. It is…