It is an especially humid day. The air is stifling and rivulets of sweat run down my back and stain my white shirt. “Ma,” I say. “Why don’t we open a window? This heat is killing me.” My mother is lying very still on the floor, lethargic. She is sweating but she does not answer me… [5mins]
When you sit on a bench in Main Mall, Gaborone, you will see many things: two girls in matching tops holding hands, their faces turned to each other to trade girlish whispers… [2mins]
The summer I turned nine, my father surprised us all by announcing that he would be taking motorcycle lessons the following week. At the time, my brother and I were slurping spaghetti from our dinner plates, and my mother was spooning sweetcorn from the pot in her hands… [20mins]
I went to see him today. I sat on the cold white tiles and ignored the thick stone in my throat as I looked at the words. They looked back at me, cold, unmoved, impersonal. White letters curved in black granite; they tell me nothing… [6mins]
Kuso’s tongue likes it here. High up, parked on the roof of Allawaah’s mouth. It’s his most favourite spot on Allawaah’s body, if he has to be exclusive. The cliff of her nose too, if he doesn’t… [8mins]
It is thirteen degrees outside. And the day is 19 December 19: the day after the House of Representatives voted to impeach President Trump. The next-to-triumphant news does well to thaw the crisp coldness characteristic of the Bostonian air as I leave my work building and head for my Uber… [9mins]
“So, Nancy, tell us about AFREADA – what is it, and how did It start?”
I get this question a lot. It’s usually the first question I answer when I find myself on a panel or in front of a studio microphone… [6mins]
