The President

The president is angry, angrier than a mate-less gorilla. He walks into his office and steps in front of his mirror. He feels his chin to measure the growth of his desert beard. His chin feels like a dry wrinkled peanut shell. He gets even angrier.   “I want to smash something, Derrick,” the president

The African Woman

Everyone on the African dust street was looking at her.   Street beggars seated alongside the dust street road, miners clutching heavy backpacks like amateur bank robbers, civil servants by the intersection handing colourless and dull pamphlets to the unenthusiastic public, cobblers already at work, laughing sheepishly with clients like sheep farmers…   The local