Daily Archives: July 15, 2011

WS 13: A Shift in the Wind By Lauri Kubuitsile

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This is the beginning of a very interesting story by Lauri.

You can read her Caine Prize shortlisted story here. Keep an eye out for much more from her.

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Maybe it was the updraft that pushed empty plastic bags high into the sky to dance around in the sunlight with a never before sought for freedom (for plastic bags have few aspirations), or maybe it was the westerly direction of the wind, when everyone knew weather never snuck in from the dry and lonely Kgalagadi. No one knew exactly what had caused it all, but everyone agreed, that from the day the wind shifted, there was no way to go back to the way things had been before, because when the wind changed so did everything it touched.

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WS 12: The Firewood of this World by Morenike Singerr

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It feels like a lifetime ago when I dropped my letter. I saw my grey-green G-Wagon in which I stacked my work place “personal effects” in a dream just before I woke on resignation day. I shored up savings for six months, not with the dimmest inclination that I would be home for far longer.

I have gone from feeling a thousand emotions to being numb. I’ve screamed so loudly in my heart that I heard my Creator say to me in Yoruba, my first earthly language, “Pele, Keke”.

As a young, young girl in Primary 4, my Class teacher had me perform “Songs of Sorrow”, by Kofi Awonoor- Williams. What was he thinking when he wrote that poem?

I wore tattered looking clothes, chalk in my hair and on my face to lend credence to the lines “I have been somewhere…If I turn here the rain beats me, if I turn here the sun burns me”. My most quoted section of that unique poem is “…the firewood of this world is for only those who can take heart…” I felt back then though that the line should have said, “…the firewood of this world is for only those who can carry it…”.

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WS 11: Kidnapped by Glory Edozien

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Yeshidi, was annoyed. In fact, he had stopped being annoyed over an hour ago. He was now officially pissed off. He’d been waiting for these clowns for over three hours and they still hadn’t turned up, plus he was running out of cigarettes. He always worked alone, but there was too much riding on this. His mind drifted to the possibility that they had been caught and for some reason, he could hear the faint sound of sirens. But he smiled, his plan was fool proof, perfectly constructed. Only complete imbeciles could mess this one up. And although Douglas and his boys were no Nobel Prize winners, they had pulled some good stunts in the past. No, it had to be the mark that was wasting time. Yeshidi took the last drag from his cigarette and resumed his position at the rear end of the gun barrel. He had only have one chance and he wasn’t going to miss it.

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