editor’s choice

Cold As Harmattan

“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve spent Christmas and new year?” Ejiro asked. No one really paid any attention to the hymn resonating out of the rusty radio. Burning wood crackling in the fire, steaming up with smoke and the smell of roasted meat hung loosely in the air. Harmattan was intense in these parts of …

Muffled

He was walking down the un-tarred road of Ishieke, this boy with a neat afro cut and chalk-white shorts. If there was someone walking along the street at that time, perhaps a teenager, said teenager would see him; this boy on chalk-white shorts and ripped red polo. The ripped red polo would have absolutely drawn …

The Portrait Of A Landscape

This is a portrait without an easel, a painting without a canvas, floating freely in the seat of memory, unfettered by the constraints of reality. It is emblazoned in my mind, a haunting creation of an artist’s craving. It sits in the sea of my consciousness, this portrait of a desolate scene. It is a portrait of a landscape that is redolent of devastation, …

Maurice

Maurice   I’d always loved toy dogs. Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted one. But dad would hear nothing of it. Mum hated dogs and that was it. I mean, what harm could they do? They were just tiny creatures needing love and they also kept company.   Take for example the Pomeranian. Its foxlike head …

Mother’s Unconditional Murder

  His mother was my mother’s best friend. They did everything in common from gossiping and backbiting to calculating when their period cramps would fall through. The calendar dates were always marred with biro stains which I couldn’t fathom what it was until much later in life. Momma was always speaking in whispers around her. …