Aisha Mama

It was a quiet hot afternoon as Aisha Mama told her story and people, both ghosts and the living, were gathered in their houses after lunch lying down in the cool shade. Hani and Kadijo moved close to their mother as she spoke and even their dead father got up from his distant spot and came and sat closer under the shade of the avocado tree. In the hush that covered the town Aisha Mama’s story poured out from her and spread. It was a sticky story.

Published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 7. Purchase the book to read the full piece.