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Delayed

He Was Delayed

“…she was bored of working in a nursing home, taking care of the old who refused to die.” They first saw each other seven years ago, outside the US embassy in Gigiri, on one of those early Nairobi mornings when you were not quite sure whether it would rain or whether the sun would rise. Read more about He Was Delayed[…]

Written by:Miriam Jerotich

How Bodies Lie

How Bodies Lie The day mother told you how your body should lie next to that of another, you were five. People say they don’t tell children these things — it affects how they think. Mother won’t have you being clueless on how you should place your body next to that of another and so Read more about How Bodies Lie[…]

Written by:Irene Ibiwari-Ikiriko

A Frog’s Home is Called a Pond

I know you grew up on the streets, that you feel the streets made you, that you are now the streets, maybe just a human version. I know that when you were younger, death led your parents along and your relatives rejected you saying you were bad omen, that whenever you passed something gets missing. Read more about A Frog’s Home is Called a Pond[…]

Written by:Bryan Okwesili

What America Did to Him

Uncle Ben was what we called him before he left Nigeria for America ten years ago. ‘Uncle Ben’ because his name was Benedict and he was father’s brother. It was normal to like him, everyone liked him- tall, sturdy, muscular and funny. Mother calls him ‘my husband‘ although he was just twenty five. Last time Read more about What America Did to Him[…]

Written by:Bryan Okwesili

Last Night You Came Home Dead

If you remember last night, you would remember you came home late, your mascara darkening your eyes, your tears messing up your makeup. You would remember you hugged me as soon as I opened the door. You cried on my shoulders for minutes standing, until I led you to the bed. You said you never Read more about Last Night You Came Home Dead[…]

Written by:Bryan Okwesili

Summer’s Rain

I bumped into Dave at a bar neither of us liked. It was the middle of summer’s rain, a rare off-day from the overstuffed couple’s resort. We traded numbers. I borrowed a marker from a half-drunk waiter and scribbled my name and number on a thick paper coaster. He taught surfing lessons to elderly couples Read more about Summer’s Rain[…]

Written by:Annierra Matthews