A Girl. A Picture. A Story


Sometimes the moon is low over Turkana and the night an impregnable shade of black. Other nights the same sky is littered by a million blinking stars. Those nights Ibei sits outside this little hut, one of the only …

The Griot’s Daughter


It’s finally dawn and cowardice curls at my feet like a serpent. We are shadows with the night. Before we all start lifting our weaponized hands, we are still sons of women, not animals. We have been loved and …

Like Hockey


I love motorbikes. My favourite part of a motorbike is the swell of the fuel tank. How it humps up, like the back of an aquatic animal…like the potbelly of a former rugby player; it’s hard-ish, sitting there like …

“Look At Us”


She confronted her daughter one evening after she had cleared the dinner plates. Her daughter had leaned back in the creaky wooden chair she had sat on, away from the light and truth and she denied it. She couldn’t …

The Final Leg


She likes sitting in gardens and following the lazy flight of a butterfly with her eyes. Everybody likes sitting in gardens but not everybody notices butterflies. Which is a shame because what’s the point of butterflies if you don’t …