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

The Thoughts Of Roachy

I grew up in poverty, poverty was so tough my best friend was a cockroach. He was brown, so more like a coloured fellow in human terms. Our cultural diversity really balanced out our opinions on most of our brief but special meetings. If you are seen crouching to the level of the height of