But this was not the first time. I had lost count. Not because my memory is failing – at times the mind affords us little and unexpected luxuries called forgetting. I was in class six when it first happened. My breasts were visible with stubborn...
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Mama knocked me on my forehead with her clenched knuckles before pushing me away shouting a long curse. “Idiot! Your hands itch too much! Are you mad? Eh! Five hundred shillings! Five hundred precious shillings!” Her palms widened and her mouth...
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Phaces There are only a few worse...
A BRIEF POEM ABOUT HUNGER (after...
Wafula Wakoko
Mesioye Johnson