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extracts of winning titles
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Who are you?
No one else seemed to notice the small girl. She stood at the side
of the gate, looking in. Mrs Upstairs drove out, then back. Evening was coming. Still the
girl stood there.
At last Chidi could bear it no longer. ‘There’s someone at the gate. She’s
been there for hours!’ she said.
Mama looked at her. ‘What a small thing! Whoever gave her a dress like that?
It’s much too long and big. Ada, go and ask her what she wants.’
Chidi watched.
Ada came back. ‘She didn’t say anything.’
‘Perhaps she didn’t understand you. Let me try,’ Mama said. She went out to
the gate. ‘Hello, young lady. Are you looking for someone?’
The little girl looked up at her and said nothing. Mama tried two or three local
languages. No response. Mama took the girl by the arm, turned her round and gave her a
gentle push. ‘Go home, child. You don’t belong here. Go home.’ |
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Unanswered Cries
On the day the gods wanted her circumcised, Olabisi was sitting,
restless, on a low stool, washing dirty dishes in a large, plastic bowl. She caught hold
of the hem of her flimsy skirt, tucked it between her slim legs and reached into the
plastic bowl for the last dish. Nothing exciting happens in this place, she thought. There
is nowhere to go except to another, boring part of the village. As she began to scrub the
dish, the wind brought her news of an approaching group of singers.
She sat up, listening like a dog sensing an intruder. It was, indeed, the sound of drums
and singing. After a whole week of feeling caged in this village, something exciting was
happening at last. And the sound was getting closer. I must see this. |
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Daudi’s Dream
‘Last card!’ shouted a man in a blue cap, as he threw a
card into the centre.
The other players shifted uneasily and Daudi clapped his hands in glee. His big friend
Majid had slapped the winning card down.
‘Ohhh!’ the others groaned.
Majid turned to Daudi. ‘How’s it going my man?’
‘Not bad. I want to buy my mother a sewing machine!’
The card-playing group went silent, then burst into laughter.
‘Maybe he’s won the lottery!’ one of them winked.
‘I know, he’s found himself a winning bottle top!’ another cheered.
‘Stop teasing him!’ Majid snapped. ‘The boy just wants to help his mother.
What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing!’ a man wearing a green T-shirt answered. ‘Except that he’s
dreaming.’
Majid shook his head.
‘Not necessarily. A lot of people have won money from bottle tops.’
‘Yes,’ the man in the T-shirt jeered. ‘But after drinking the soda. When
has Daudi ever drunk soda, except for tasting what people leave at the bottom of their
bottles?’
‘I don’t have to drink soda!’ Daudi shouted. ‘As long as I can get the
bottle tops.’
Majid slapped his little friend on the back.
‘That’s the spirit. You get the bottle tops, and who knows what you may find
inside?’ |
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The Stone Virgins
‘They never speak of it now, at least I do not hear of it.
They do not state that we gathered handfuls of honey each of us. We placed our arms among
bees. These scarred hands, the flesh missing, are scented hands. An inch burnt from every
finger. The smallest of my fingers no longer bends. Something went quiet inside my head. I
heard it stop like a small wind. First, my entire left arm stopped moving, or moved but I
did not feel it – it dangled. I moved my right hand. I held my left arm in my right
hand like something I had picked from the ground, a discarded object. The numbness
spread... A nerve had vanished.' |
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