The streets of Angwan Tiv were littered with hawkers, kiosks, money doublers, hungry looking prosperity preachers, buyers and sellers of love, change-thirsty police officers whose pants hung loosely around their hips, beggars whose begging dangled at an important distance from the pedestrians, and cars moving both left and right on a one way road… [4mins]
AFREADA and Africa Writes invite writers to participate in a 500-word flash fiction competition, based on a prompt from the much-loved, Somali British poet, Warsan Shire.
It could quite reasonably be said that Penelope Finch was preordained to be a pariah. After her mother died giving birth to her, she was solely raised, rather haphazardly, by her father, Gareth Finch… [15mins]
You and a group of friends arrived at Mr. Mugisha’s compound with the last echoes of the sun on a Thursday evening, eager and joyful, ready for all Maria’s Giveaway ceremony would bring… [6mins]
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 heard a knock as soon as I came out of the shower. “Who is it?” I yelled from the bathroom with my head tilted towards the door. A muffled voice responded. “Nada!” I opened the door to see her clad in a pastel red silk robe with her golden highlights scrunched up in a bun on top of her head… [6mins]
When my lover awakens he weaves his arms out from around and beneath me to stretch them far enough to reach his beer. He cracks it open between his teeth and gulps his thirst away… [4mins]