This is a collection and links of the short stories Wazi M Kunene wrote under the Naane le Moya banner in 2016.
After the funeral, Tshepo asked his father, “Why do we plant people deep into the ground when they stop laughing?”
It was as though Ntate Mohare’s heart fell to his knees, his palms clinging to the door handle and Kagiso, his desire to scream was a mouthful his throat could never swallow, so he began to wail.
It was the month of the diamond stone, the daisy flower, yellow and innocence- April. I loved him the first time I saw him, of course I warned myself that this would be another painful journey.
My mother is a praying woman, I am an eighteen year old woman already but she is still praying for children. My father wants sons and all my family thinks my mother has not done her wifely duties if she has not given my father sons.
Lla is very easy, she is calm, you might actually think she is not careful with whom she brings in her life but she is quite in control of everything.
We do not even know how to carry each other when we are sad, we don’t even want to see each other when we are sad, we can’t joke about cellulite and our home remedies for our easily breakable nails.
It’s not a poem yet. Today is Friday, don’t ghosts rest? Maybe the next poem should be called Paper people growing feet.
Granny looked at me, her face sad and sweaty. She started sobbing, came towards the wall and pushed her face against the wall, sobbing, next to my wet kiss stain.
Boy 1: My father. Mother said he was a sweet man who was stolen by a woman with a big bum.
Photos by Hazel Fasaha Tobo unless stated otherwise.