a return to the road, twenty-six years later
radically reimagining the celebration of blackness
The goodbye was a phone call just less than two minutes long.
Claire’s father Sam Simmons would be there, and they would spend the next hour or two quaffing Castle beer, smoking and playing snooker in the dim, curtained rooms adjoining the bar.
There is in fact a bookshop - the oldest one around, I believe, very rich in its collection—that sells books at KES 300 higher. Take it or leave it.
When I typed the last chapter of the translation, I did not want to finish it. It would mean there were no more stories to share.
J who’d been here most frequently said we didn’t need to pay for the armed guards. We’d just trail behind the groups that had a guard with them.
I’ve arrived at lunchtime, though of course Mummy would have fed me at any hour.
Gambians feared Jammeh's guns, legislation, and corruption—not his sermons.