EVEN FLOWERS KNOW THAT WATER IS USELESS WITHOUT ROOTS: Poetry, Essays, and Stories

I sat on a mat beneath an imagined mango tree. There, the happiness and sorrows of my heart found a place as stories and poetry on paper. I joined the birds flying above the tree, singing Kiswahili songs that made me ululate. The tree danced from melodies of the heart, gifting ample juicy fruits to sate my longings.

Meanwhile, children skipped their favourite kamba game, and others raced on a wooden tricycle to catch a grasshopper. Our neighbour wafted soil scent as she wetted the mud floor...