He’s been running.Running barefoot through the streetsLooking for himselfOr rather the best version of himself;The person he promisedHis eight year old selfHe’d be one day-But his searchHas yielded nothing so far.The dust clings to him.The mud is now cakedIn the cracks of the soles of his feet-These feet,That have carried himFaithfully so farOn his quest,Are […]Read more "Oily hands, Ashy feet"
I do not feel at home in a hut. I have never lived outside Africa either. I have a Shona name. No English name. No middle name. And I insist on being called by it. Properly. English is my strongest written and spoken language yet there are certain things deep in me that i can […]Read more "On being ‘truly African’"