1- My rebelliousness cowered at the sound of bullets and teargas. 2- I stood behind my parents words and their fear of losing me in the mess. 3- Collapsing needs one to be standing.. but I was already lying down when my mother called to tell me about the news she was watching on TV….
Mother’s Touch
In the village compound which was cleanly swept and tidy a compound not easily accessible by road a group of old women sat huddled together. Sticks and pipes jutted out of their mouths which occasionally moved in unison. A sigh here and a look to the sky up here. Some sat with their chins in…
Bad to Love
Is it bad if I tell you to love me just like this? I am not really there and I am there I am more and less than nothing Is it bad if I tell you to call me to say good morning even though I am not really sure I will pick up? Is…
Ruddy Morfaw
Ruddy Morfaw is a Cameroonian jurist, writer and spoken-word poet. For over a decade, she has worked with institutions in the area of human rights, peace, development and corporate litigation. She has been a researcher and human rights activist with the Cameroon National Commission on Human Rights and Freedoms (NCHRF), Southwest Region, and she currently…
The Plead for Change
Change! Change! Change! There was no response Yet I plead for change not to change Growing up, I thought my generation and That of my children are going to be the best But now, I strummer and stagger Yes we all want change We don’t know weather The change will be positive or negative The…
Know your worth
Every time I was denied a seat at the table, I did not rebel. I walked away. Every time I was refused entry into a circle, I did not protest. I chose the exit and never looked back. Every time my potential was downplayed, I neither relented nor fought for permission. Instead, I stepped into…
My Mother in Three Photographs
Her face looks out flawless her sexuality electric in a mini dress and sheer satin stockings the girls of the 1960s beautiful beyond belief. She is looking through the camera like her space is here and beyond enchanting and enchanted by the times when the dreams of freedom were young the fortunes of Uganda hot…
Sometimes Love
Sometimes love Is running for your life When your tanks are still full Of oxygen, When your heart is still alive, When you can still hear its sound Lub dub Lub dub Sometimes it’s saying “No more” And run for your life. Sometimes love Is choosing yourself, Is Loving yourself, Forgiving-yourself, Mending your own scars,…
Lip Prayer
Your lips are mine and mine are yours. May my lips forever glorify and honour you. May my lips be truthful to you. May my lips calm your blazing brow and bring healing to your aching muscles. May my lips mop up your tears. May my lips dry the sweat of your toil, from your…
Sarah Lubala
Sarah Lubala is a Congolese-born, South Africa-based writer. Her family fled the Democratic Republic of Congo two decades ago amidst political unrest. They relocated first to South Africa, then the Ivory Coast, before returning to South Africa and settling in Johannesburg. She has been twice shortlisted for the Gerald Kraak Award, and once for The…