Going to Kampala

Sometimes I ask Mother Karua to tell me stories of her past How it was like growing up back in the day when the world was in black and white I ask about her first date I ask who...

To The Unpublished Writer

I met you this week It occurred to me that I have met you (or some version of you) many times beforeI could have met you at a university, led you in a workshop, chatted to you at...

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