Fiction

Finally, the pain in my back eased. I dropped my pack, sank to the ground and leaned against a tree.…

Mum made us wash our feet in pee. She called us from our room — just the siblings. We descended,…

When Emma looks down over the city, she can see the flashing red lights of fire engines moving through the…

Translated from French to English by Edwige Renée Dro  

We were stacked high and narrow in that terraced Victorian house. The attic contained two bedrooms, one of which always…

Qhunna sat under a makeshift shelter, a torn tent, at the Union Buildings in Pretoria.  Part of the protest. It…

‘Your skin is beautiful — that’s why they look at you. They admire it. They are just too afraid to…

August 1977, Jaffna The year that I turned eleven, every Wednesday, when school was over, I would skip the two…

This work of fiction includes graphic depictions of sexual violence that some readers may find distressing.   Heat slices the…

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…

Boy-chirren different. A daughter will always be yours, but boy-child come like guava: brace yourself; it might have worm. My…

Angelo from next-door had arrived first, letting himself in through the gate in the side fence, grinning and rubbing his…