I am involved in a project where I interview artists – singers, sculptors, painters, dancers, virtuosos in the form of children who play the hell out of a violin, animators – a project commissioned by the Godown Arts Center. …
“You mean rich but old?” She asks from the carpet where she’s seated between my knees. I’m helping her undo her braids. She’s in this team natural group where they …
Everybody I tell this story thinks I should have asked her this question. At some point I began to think that maybe I should have asked her. But then how could I? How …
I lived in a little shanty-like neighbourhood called Kiwafu while in uni in Kampala, with a roommate, Gasirigwa, who was from Tanzania. A room. One window. A mango tree outside the window. The adjoining door – permanently locked – …
Up the aisle, a bony man struggles to shove his luggage into the compartment above. His elbows look like a branch off a yellow-bark acacia. If you walked into his elbow by accident you would die from excessive haemorrhage. …
