Mratata | By Chumisa Paquita N | An African Story

I’ve seen a gun three times in my life. * The first time I was about six years old; in Ngqeleni, old Transkei, my grandfather’s home, my father’s home, my home. It was a Sunday night in a candle-lit sitting room – “six-corner” as my grandmother called it, a hexagonal rondawel – as a result […]