Category: Short story

by Agnes Munthali First prize winning short story in the  2020 Makewana’s Daughters competition                                            If I could fly back in time and redo all the things I had done, I...

By Tikondwe Chimkowola  My baby only knew two colors: White and Green. The white from our uniforms and the green of the prison warders. He always cried when someone else in a different colour came around the cells. I chuckle at...

She heard her mother calling from a distance. It couldn’t have been morning already. She had only slept for a few minutes, or so it seemed. She turned on her mat and slept again. Her mother’s voice soared. “Yewo! Yewo! Wake up!!...

    It all started with my parents. It is true and I blame them. It is their entire fault. They had decided to have a baby but ended up with two baby girls. Twins. Yane and Zane. I was given the name Yane while my little twin...

I was seven when she was born. The day her mum brought her from the hospital my mum became so harsh, filled with pain and sorrow. Her forehead was always wrinkled like she had aged to death. I could smell anger and distress in...

Third prize winner, 2019 Makewana Short-story competition   Dear Madam, I don’t know if you remember me. I was in your Geography class. I first had a chat with you when that NGO came and was looking for needy girls to pay for...

Second prize, 2019 Makewana Short story Competition   My ride was longer than expected. I was very excited and very nervous the entire time. Finally, the bus reached Ntcheu bus depot; my pit stop before it proceeded to Blantyre....

  First prize winner: Makewana  short story competition (2019)                                           Michael felt uneasy that afternoon. He felt tired and in a hurry all at once. He was sitting on the floor of his empty...

  I stand by the road passing by the mystical mwala wa mthunzi. The wonderful green carpet of tea trees blends in nicely with the blue canopy of the sky, the green landscape and the tiny huts popping out the green trees...

He used to be her man. She dusts her house again. It doesn’t really need dusting, not after the thorough cleaning she has given it, but you never know. There might be dust lurking somewhere. He used to carry her with such ease,...