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…
Vanessa Chisakula
Vanessa Chisakula is a Zambian poet, who first discovered her writing wits after becoming a mother. She uses poetry as a tool to advocate for women’s rights and to address social issues like mental health. Vanessa believes in a world where art can bring a change by bridging divides and conveying the youth’s creative potential…
For the blues
It’s 4am and you’re awake like your body’s been paged. You’re wondering if it will be worth it to sleep for 30 more minutes before starting your day. They’re playing a senseless song on the radio and it feels like such a waste of airplay. So you tuck yourself in to rest your brain. You’re…
vangile gantsho
vangile gantsho is a poet, healer and co-founder of impepho press. Unapologetically black woman, she has partecipated in literary events and festivals both in Africa and abroad. She is the author of two poetry collections: Undressing in front of the window (2015) and red cotton (2018). She holds an MA from the University currently known…
When God Makes Love to You
When S/HE enunciates I Love You It can take you a lifetime to really believe IT As to accept this endearment Is to learn a whole new language Altering the rhythms of your heartbeats forever As you now appreciate subtle motions of Love In the mundane & profound Much like clouds wafting, mutating Yet serene…
Ada
Our songs are fading I’m almost forgetting the steps to our favorite dance Our voices are losing their depth I can hardly hear your soothing breath Ever since I left our land In search of that Oyibo money You’ve lost that your wantenten love for me Remember all things we dreamed Our young love was…
Bessie’s Lament
“Wherever you go, please don’t forget to take care of your sisters and brothers. Remember that you have a suffering family that needs your help.” My parents woke me up early Sunday morning to pray for me and bid me farewell with pieces of advice during our family devotion. I’d leave later that day to…
My son Nok
You turn your head away“He is my son”, I say“He was taken out of my grip”, I sayHe learnt how to shoot with a gun. He shot from village to villageenemies we all becamelapena leaves couldn’t hide uswe were handed blankets, beans and poshointernally displaced we became. Then I heard he was dead.“He is my…