Last week was about with the Nobel Peace Prize being announced, Poetry Africa celebrating it’s 20th year in Durban, and much more. I found five reads that enjoyed in and would like to share them with you.
1. Nightmare Magazine publishes horror and dark fantasy. Featured in the October ebook issue, People of Colo(u)r Destroy Horror, we found Cruel Sistah by Nisi Shawl. This gripping short story starts off innocently enough with a sister lovingly admiring her younger sisters “good hair”. Before we know it , we’ve taken a left turn down an murderous path and tragedy…
“Smiling, Calliope selected a medium-sized mallet, its handle as long as her forearm. And added a crowbar for show.
Outside, Dory wondered what was taking her sister so long. A clump of shampoo slipped down her forehead and along one eyebrow. She wiped it off, annoyed. She stood up from the weeds where she’d been waiting, then quickly knelt down again at the sound of footsteps on the paving bricks.
“Bend forward.” Calliope’s voice cracked. Dory began twisting her head to see why. ”
Read more at Nightmare Magazine
2. Last week the Center for Creative Arts hosted the 20th Poetry Africa at the Elizabeth Sneddon Theatre at UKZN. On the last night of the week-long festival, the stage was set on fire by a three poets – Bassey Ikpi, Koleka Putuma, Maya the Poet – when they paid tribute to the woman who we had come to know as Khwezi. Fezekile “Fezeka” Kuzwayo was her real, we finally met her after she died. She was laid to rest on the same day as this powerful, though-provoking performance. The poem was published on The Double Chromosome blog
…how many hearts?
how many women broken, a river of burgundy
cascading from their throats
Some mothers set their daughters alight to keep their men warm.
And some family members would rather describe the smoke than smell like it.
Last night there was a vigil
A vigil is a time of staying awake during the time usually spent sleeping
Especially to keep watch or to pray…
Read more: The Double Chromosome
3. Zukiswa Wanner published a short story, A Writer’s Lot, on Enkare Review. Found myself laughing as I tried to figure out if the Writer is this story is based on any writer I may know in real life. I really enjoyed this story.
I have two children to look after and I don’t have a steady income.
And yes, before you ask, the children have two different mothers. But I wasn’t trying to be a cliché. I really wasn’t. One was an honest-to-the-gods-and-ancestors mistake and the other one, well, I think the woman wanted to trap me because she saw I was going places. But I did my bit, you know. When I had a clipper or two, I would drink sixty percent and divide the remains between the two children. I tried to be a good father. I think I am a better father than most, which, if you know the brotherhood of fathers in my hood, or Sperm Donors as the bitter ex’s like to call us, is not saying much but it is still something.
read more at Enkare Review
4. This is the first time I’ve read Magunga’s work. Not sure why it took me so long. This time the title attracted me. Lord Erroll. I thought it was a person, wasn’t sure what to expect. Magunga’s pen is nice, so nice, review could legitimately be published in a short story anthology.
I looked around the room, and indeed, everyone was in every kind of suit. Good suits. Bad suits. Oversized suits. Fitting suits. Tuxedos. Office suits. Accounting department suits. Striped lawyer suits. Plain suits. Butler suits. Dapper suits. Unbuttoned suits. Suits with thick ties. Suits with emaciated ties. One button suits. Two button suits. Rental suits with tags still on the sleeves. Full suits. Broken suits. Suits with special needs. Three piece suits. Suits that I would not even wish on my mother’s killer when drunk. Suits that made me grow green with envy. Killer suits. Suits worn with suspenders. Suits worn with belts. Suits worn without underwear. James Bond suits. Tony Nyadundo suits. Mitumba suits. Bespoke suits that made me want to take a photo of the chap and put him on the 1000 bob note.
Everyone got the memo but me. Or rather, everyone read the memo, but me…
Read more at the Magunga
So Bob Dylan doesn’t seem to want the Nobel. Or maybe he does but it wouldn’t be too hip for him to gush… Who knows? No one knows if he’ll even show up to the event to pick up the award… Anyway, Rajeev Balasubramanyam, an award-winning novelist with a PhD in black and Asian British literature, wrote for The Washington Post about why he believes The Nobel Committee got it wrong: Ngugi wa Thiong’o is the writer the world needs now
Ngugi’s decision to move away from English was a brave one for a writer hailing from Africa, a continent frequently treated as irrelevant by the rest of the world. It could, in fact, have led to his disappearance from the global stage, but instead it solidified his reputation as a writer of supreme political commitment, though few of his contemporaries or juniors took up the call to write in their native languages. Ngugi’s attitude toward this, however, is markedly self-aware and flexible.
Read more at The Washington Post
Rajeev Balasubramanyam’s latest book is called “Starstruck.” He is on Twitter at @Rajeevbalasu.
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