barthlomeo manzrui: lower gods

there’s the saxophone:  & the music? to be blue? and the question, em? we didn’t like his music. career? his very existence? the core of his being? his lost relationship with us? envied it, the glory? all of it? plays ask for a pause. stage right. dim lights. enter we. we enter. lower. we continue with the tirade? how can […]

Clifton Gachagua: There is No Return

“Return was a myth departure coined as inceptive.”  A. Zawacki   There’s no return.  Memory. Reflection. Then? Alexis Teyie recently reminded me of Bly & Lorca. Vallejo. The language of translation. The rass in the cemeteries. But it is Arundhati Roy that I most remember for the kindness of Alex and family: The brothers. & Rosie Olang’. And every act […]

SHIFT Collective: Unstoppable

The last few years have seen seismic shifts in discussions about the restitution of cultural heritage. We are witnessing the previously unthinkable situation, where certain objects held in museums in the North might be returned to the communities in the South. Nevertheless, very few objects have actually physically moved. We asked ourselves if this inertia is not only political. Perhaps […]

Greenman Mbillo: Principles of Collective De-objectification

My name is Mbelenzi Zasusthra Nzinga. I’m walking down River Road now, and all I can see are the women lined along the sidewalks. There are also other kinds of people, but they are invisible. Perhaps only God knows what kind of existential situation this is. There’s a whirlpool of superimposed issues; each striving to reach the surface of my […]

Carey Baraka: Sounds of Home

I’m reaching out again. Dear Dad, Here I am again, trying to recapture a lost past. I am writing to go back to that time at Impala Park, when it was just you and me and M, and we went to Impala Park, where at lunch times, as a treat, the wardens would throw a goat into the lion cages […]

Felix Omondi: To Rescue a god

When he woke up that morning, Lempei knew it was going to be an interesting day; but how exactly, he still did not know.  First, he had woken up earlier than usual and when he got to the school bus park, he was the first student there — something that had never happened before. In fact, when the other students […]

Michelle Angwenyi: What Colour is the Chameleon at Night

Jamila turned into a dream on that rainy night – the night it rained so much that the earth was a spectre beneath the water’s fervour. The lights had gone off, and Jamila and I stood there, facing each other, her words suspended in the still room, dropping heavily to the ground when she asked if we could go to […]