Glissade

He smokes until he sees something moving in the smoke, remembers Joy like blindness: swimming at Jazeera Beach, gorging on belonging, barwaaqo, iftiin. He remembers riding through Suuqa Bakaaraha on a motorbike, held onto by women with hair trailing behind them like black smoke. It’s raining in London again, Hassan Aden Samatar sings from a …

I believed, for once, that God wasn’t responsible for anything.

She knew it was me who took our stepmom’s bottle of kayan mata and poisoned it.

Enjoy the kisses too. I had thought that a man who swore by bushmeat would use too much teeth. No. Your head will reel when he tilts your face…

Abba Kyari told me he was going to have a crucial meeting with the President and some other people on your matter.

ISSUES

Subscribe to the Efiko Newsletter

From the Archives

Join Us