We have been practicing esusu for a long time. Our mothers did it, our mothers’ mothers did it. And probably their own mothers, too. We’ve never had a problem of this substance before, nothing so significant until this woman showed up. Nothing we couldn’t fix, anyway. This is how our system works: each woman has one month to contribute a certain amount of naira. Our names are on a list, and when that month is over, whoever’s number one takes it all. Then the contributions begin again, and at … [Read more...] about Contributions
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Enid & Floyd & the Moon
Enid leans over the sink while her husband, Floyd, dyes her sparse hair. His veined, shaky hands are covered in the clear plastic gloves that came in the Clairol “Flame Red” coloring kit. The gloves are too small and stop below his wrists. It’s awkward, but everything for him is awkward or impossible. Using an old pair of children’s scissors, he struggles to snip the top off the squeeze bottle. His hands feel like dumb paws. Enid’s back is stiff with age, but she manages to bend forward … [Read more...] about Enid & Floyd & the Moon
Killers
the water is deeper than it looks; and we’re not the worst swimmers, but it’s dark; we tend not to swim at night; no, we tend not to swim at night with guys; we all knew of the girl who drowned; she sank like a stone, they said; she was showing off that night, they said; the guys all said; tonight, it’s guys we meet at the boathouse; they’re here for the end of summer; they’re beautiful in a polished way; but we’re beautiful in that polished way; we look out across the water; we whisper … [Read more...] about Killers
Ara’s Man
Ara killed my dog so I had to screw her man. His mouth was still swollen from the tooth he lost and he tasted terrible, but I did it anyway. I had to. Afterward, tearfully, he told me a story about a boy from his part of the land who stole an arrowhead from a neighboring clan. They caught the boy and fed him white clay from the river until he exploded. Blood and bones and ropes of glossy pink organs everywhere. This was during the hard times when there was barely a weed to suck on, and no … [Read more...] about Ara’s Man
Her Cousin Lena
Rose kept a notebook near and recorded her phone conversation with her mother, just because. A part of her, the part that supported herself and paid for her condoms, cigarettes, and rent, assumed a recording of her conversation with her mother might one day come in handy. Her mother wasn’t afraid of psychological blackmail. She was constantly reminding Rose of the things she should be grateful for. Rose was grateful. She pressed record. Rose’s mother’s voice was muffled by wind sounds; she … [Read more...] about Her Cousin Lena
The Moths Came
In a cloud, at night. Or like an army at sunrise. To every tree and every spike of grass, every ridgepole, every windowsill, they came. To every clothesline, especially. From the candy-coated wires, they formed strings—onions braided together by their tops—and we woke to find them swaying. Don’t open the door, we say to our daughter. Our daughter puts her hand on the knob, but the lock catches. Click. We imagine the chubby tips of her fingers nibbled down to their pin-thin bones. They’ll come … [Read more...] about The Moths Came