Stories

Nothing to read here: just the truth         of a man living in a world desperate   to misunderstand him. When I told Hassan  …

​​The not enough-ness ​​​  of dust bites through Lagos, surrounding us like a target.  suffering repeats its skin on the nation, …

I bring her to meet you   when I'm sure no one else is coming.  Still, I scan the scrawls in…

           after A. Samad Said’s “Gagak Parit”    I am already dead in both languages  but…

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you're being unladylike                      again             …

what your God adorns is straight and white, expected.   otherwise, suddenly there’s more at stake.    your mother spasms   &…

I    I was created in lieu of a debt / in lieu of a life spent in the fields…

In the beginning  You — a star that governed the night sky —  were not made from the dust on…

After ‘Girl’ by Jamaica Kincaid    Walk on your toes; speak only when you are spoken to, but don’t talk…

Translated to English by Helena Camilleri. Videography by Joseph Caruana.

I am to be a mother this weekend. The assignment came through when I was dusting the house earlier. It’s…

Some still wear masks. Neither his mask nor the weight of all the years separating you can hide him from…

Uncle wasn’t really my uncle. He was a Jamaican man who ran the laundromat down the street. My Trinidadian parents,…

‘I got called to prophecy on a night like this. Lonely feeling. I know you’re lonely here. But if you…