He had moved in before I knew it. I had a small bedsitter. He had problems with his landlord. I liked him well enough. It wasn’t rocket science. Once again, I didn’t think it was a big deal for him to move in. I mean, this was Nairobi, right? I knew my mother wouldn’t approve, so I didn’t tell her, because I am a big girl. I send her money, after all, don’t I? That was enough.
Browsing: Fiction
a short story by Judyannet Muchiri.
At dawn, she drags herself from the bed, leaving the sheets ruffled into a heap in the center, walks out…
The phone rang. Mama picked. Three minutes after ‘hello’ she was still listening. “Thank you,” she finally said. She then…
Mutembei keenly observes Mombasa beneath the inexorable sun, a town clinging on its designated part on the warm palms of…
This story was shortlisted for the Writivism 2016 Short Story Prize
*Proceeds from Part 1* Father is snoring. Sometimes he growls and whistles through the nose, sometimes he sounds like the…
To be a criminal, you need a sorry background. My father works as a drunkard and my mother is the…
She would talk to her god, often, and he would respond. ‘But,’ she would start, as far back as she…
It was a hot day. Baba was sitting on an old, shredded reed mat under a baobab tree in the…
You will stop your car and watch them run over. To you. It will feel good, to have women croon and call you handsome and strong and ask how you want it.
Let me tell you something, Father. This thing is sweet, I tell you, like a meal laced with poison. Once you taste it, you will want to eat and eat and eat.