Counting Heads

“It seems to be working,” the man’s voice said. It sounded distant, with the reverberation of his voice echoing down a long empty corridor. The room was completely dark. Apart from the sounds of a few murmuring voices and the beeps and whirs of unseen machinery, everything was still. The air smelled unnaturally sterile and … Read more

Nyembezi’s Funeral

The verandah steps were too steep for a safe passage. I sat with elbows propped on the armrests of my wheelchair. I was grateful that the drizzle had abated. From the foot of the raised verandah, I could hear the gentle throb of an African drum, counterpointed by the chook-chook of rattles and the sombre … Read more

Nonchalant By Cheryl S. Ntumy

The fear that she will leave sits and festers in the bottom of my stomach, wearing a hole right through me. It wakes me in the night. I sit up, gasping, hand over my mouth so she doesn’t stir beside me. I climb out of bed. I know I mustn’t. I know I’m meant to … Read more

What Happens When It Rains

Wherever you go, however much you change, some things will not. There are placeless, immortal, immoral things incapable of growing weary. You can start running away today. They will wait for you at the finish line.   When I was six years old, my mother died. It had been raining the whole day. I was … Read more

FUTURE LONG SINCE PASSED

Tuesday, February 20, 2035. He thought he heard the sound of sirens. He felt lifeless. Someone seemed to touch his neck, then his left wrist and then started compressing his chest. Another hand forced his mouth open. He felt like he was coughing but wasn’t sure whether he did. He felt tired and sleepy. The … Read more

The Real Deal

Skeins of cobwebs hung from the wooden rafters of the mabati shack alongside an assortment of beads and bones on strings. The room had a solitary window that was only partially open and covered with tattered sackcloth. Thick dust motes danced in the pale sunlight that leaked through the numerous holes in the roof. Juma … Read more

The Last History

  It is the 3rd of October, 2017 AD. We are in Nairobi at a place we once called Langata. It is almost midnight and there is a woman lying in her bed; she is crying. It is an ugly kind of crying, loud and pained without restraint or decorum. It is the cry of … Read more