MUTALE The bathroom still smelled of lavender steam when Mutale stepped into the bedroom, towel wrapped around her damp shoulders. Her skin was still warm from the shower, her mind cool and blank, not in a peaceful way, but in the way a person blanks when they don’t know what next to do with their […]

The house stirred before Ham did. But what really woke him was the unmistakable click of leather-soled shoes down the hallway. David. Coming straight to his door. Ham squinted at the screen on his wall. CCTV confirmed it, there was David, marching with entitlement and zero respect for boundaries. Typical. “He had better not knock,” […]

The sun was low on the horizon, stretching golden beams across the crisp, manicured lawns surrounding the Chelsea training facility. One by one, luxury SUVs and sports cars rolled into the compound, players spilling out in designer tracksuits, each with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. A few had headphones clamped over their ears, […]

MUTALE The last time Mutale left Zambia, it had been for a conference in Lagos, a modest event on “Restorative Advocacy for the Vulnerable Girl-Child in Post-Conflict Societies.” That trip had taught her that most flight’s economy-class wasn’t built for dignity. Long queues. Cramped seats. Chicken or beef. A stale bun. Her knees had ached […]

The house was still. Ham woke up late, light already creeping through the blinds. His shirt was half-off, body stiff from the awkward angle he’d passed out on the couch. One foot was still on the floor, the other curled under him. His head throbbed. The wine glasses on the table were still there. Lipstick […]

Zainab arrived, and so did the weight of every bad decision Ham has ever made. The doorbell rang. A soft, confident chime. Ham didn’t move at first. He sat at the edge of the sofa, staring at the door like it was something alive. Another chime. He stood slowly and walked across the marble floor […]

Sixteen Years Later                  HAM The floodlights hummed over the training pitch long after the last whistle had blown. The stadium was empty. The coach had left, and the team was gone. Even the groundskeeper had taken his tea flask and zipped off on his little cart. But Ham was still there. Boots on, shirt […]

Lusaka, Zambia – Sixteen Years Ago The thing Ham remembered most was her smell. His mum always smelled like coconut oil and fried plantain, warm and sweet. Even now, a week after she left, the smell still lingered in the corners of the kitchen, like maybe she was hiding behind the cupboard or just outside […]