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Pursuing change through the power of storytelling

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

The Commonwealth Foundation (CF) spoke to Erato Ioannou, Cypriot writer, during the Commonwealth People’s Forum 2018 on 16-18 April.

This semi-structured interview enquired into storytellers’ experiences working with the Commonwealth Writers programme and explored the way in which less-heard voices can be brought to the forefront in order to influence public discourse.

CF: Erato, thank you for joining us. How did you come across Commonwealth Writers and did it change your approach to story-telling?

Erato: I have to say, I stumbled onto Commonwealth Writers while searching the internet for literary competitions to enter. As you can understand, Cyprus has limited publication outlets. The Commonwealth Foundation, through its projects for writers helps less heard voices from around the world to be heard all over the world. So Many Islands Anthology is one such project; through which myself and 16 other writers from the islands of the Commonwealth embarked on a journey.

‘So, in our work even though we negotiate universal issues and themes, we have a common point of departure—our individual, local, cultural, historical identity.’

It was an important moment for me as a writer, since the story I featured in the anthology, Something Tiny, was given the chance to be read all over the world. The anthology was distributed in Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific, the Caribbean, the United States of America and Canada, the United Kingdom and Europe. Who would have thought?

So Many Islands Anthology features writers from islands in every region of the Commonwealth

Now, in regard to my approach to story-telling…I’ve always felt that stories come together in an ever ending dialogue. Stories connect people and peoples. They create a network of narratives that is our shared humanity. Commonwealth Writers plays an important role in this process by acknowledging and supporting the polyphony of the Commonwealth; by helping us share our stories with the world. Now, I know, that it is possible for my stories to be read by a wider, international audience.

CF: What are writers in Cyprus writing about? What are some of the issues?

Erato: Topos—place—has a crucial impact on a writer’s work. It’s inevitable. Even when the work itself does not refer directly to it, Topos is haunting it. It reverberates silently against the words, and the reader will, in the end, sense its vibrations. It’s certain. Topos, interwoven with History, is part of the author’s identity. It’s embedded in her every molecule.

‘Stories have qualities that are immeasurable and possibilities that are limitless.’

So, in our work even though we negotiate universal issues and themes, we have a common point of departure—our individual, local, cultural, historical identity. For many-many years, violence, war, displacements, refugee issues, missing persons, were central to the literature of Cyprus. These issues persist today, I would say, through the inherited trauma, through our everyday experiences as we still live in a violently divided island.

At the same time, our world, and I mean the whole world, has gotten smaller. Technology has brought us closer. And as this coming together of the human race happens, we now create a common history—the history of our planet. And Cypriot literature and the literatures of the whole world cannot remain unaffected by this.

CF: What areas of support do writers need?

Erato: There’s this famous essay by Virginia Wolf: a writer, in order to write, needs to have money and a room of her own. I am a mum of two, I have a wonderful husband and a demanding job. So whatever writing I do, I do it on the break from family and work. Life does not spare you. A writer has to sacrifice a lot. She has to be dedicated. She has to be self-disciplined. She has to make time. Ways to help this process should be sought. Maybe stipends for a writer to escape for one week from home to write? There are some creative writing hubs in the US and the UK that I know of but they last for two, three, six months. That’s a very long time to be away from your family.

CF: How important is it to hear from storytellers outside of the mainstream, the less heard voices? And can short stories impact the dominant narrative?

Erato: Stories have qualities that are immeasurable and possibilities that are limitless. That’s why it’s important to hear from storytellers outside the mainstream. Our voices, the less heard voices, contribute to the polyphony of literature, to its multiple dimensions. A tale unfolds from the writer’s imagination to speak a universal language to the world; to reveal one layer of meaning after another. Our stories do impact the dominant narrative. In one way or another, they do affect existing perspectives and prevailing perceptions. So yes! It is important to let the voices of storytellers from outside the mainstream to be heard. One has to understand, one has to learn, one has to know before she can change. Our stories explore our unique realities, which in the case of small islands, are physically small and geographically distant, but they contribute to a better understanding of human nature and of the whole world.

So Many Islands is available for purchase here.

Waste pickers discussed on the John Maythem show

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

Recycling in Johannesburg has become compulsory as of last year due to persisting landfill issues. However, the new separation at the source initiative is threatening the livelihoods of thousands of informal waste pickers, whose contribution has gone unrecognised.

Listen to John Maytham’s discussion below on the impact this is having on the income of waste pickers.

Spotlighting gender and climate change in the Caribbean

Posted on by Dizzanne Billy

Gender is not just about men and women, it’s about correcting the power imbalance and eradicating the factors which lead to one group being more vulnerable to the effects of climate change than the other.

This was a major theme at the recently concluded Exploratory Discussion on the Intersection of Gender and Climate Change, hosted by the Commonwealth Foundation and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) in Bridgetown, Barbados (4-6 June).

Civil society organisations from across the Caribbean region came together to discuss and learn about gender issues as it relates to climate change and share knowledge on best practices.

Above: Participants in the discussion on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.

I was extremely pleased to meet a wide array of professionals involved in climate change action. From the media and communication specialists to the technical experts, and representatives, community-based and indigenous organisations, the participants were excited to partake in the discussions as we dived into the topic of gender relations in the Caribbean.

How is Gender linked to Climate Change?

Common opinion was that Caribbean society is not fully aware of the relationship between climate change and gender. According to the representative from the Institute of Gender and Development Studies at the University of the West Indies (Mona Campus), Kimberly Carr-Tobias, the core of the problem is the disproportionate access to the resources available to adapt to climate change impacts. She identified a clear gender gap in the Caribbean, which propagates the vulnerability of women.

‘Gender analysis allows for understanding gender roles and relations, recognition that there are gaps, identification of gaps, and leads to policymakers and practitioners using gender mainstreaming to achieve gender equality goals,’ Carr-Tobias highlighted.

‘The fact that women are traditionally placed at the bottom of the barrel increases their vulnerabilities to climate change.’

Imbalanced power dynamics between men and women determines who has what rights and who has what access to resources; resources needed to address climate change impacts.

The fact that women are traditionally placed at the bottom of the barrel increases their vulnerabilities to climate change. This affects how women are able to respond to climate change as their access to the necessary resources are restricted to their gender roles; roles which lack fluidity in the Caribbean.

Above: Participants in the discussion on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.

Women from developing countries witness the nexus between climate change and gender issues on a first-hand basis. They are oftentimes highly dependent on the land and water resources for survival and are left in insecure positions. Climate change is not just an environmental issue, but links to social justice, equity, and human rights, all of which have gender elements.

Gender roles feed into the existing inequality and therefore the ability to deal with climate change impacts.

Group sessions allowed participants to benefit from in-depth analysis of the challenges which arise in dealing with gender and climate change in the region. A popular one identified – Human Resources. There needs to be the development of a pool of regional resources to deal with the issues at a regional level. Brain drain affects the ability of Caribbean people to address Caribbean issues at a regional level. In addition, due to the newness of gender/climate change as a concept in the Caribbean, many organisations are forced to look outside of their country for the experts to assist.

‘ Group sessions allowed participants to benefit from in-depth analysis of the challenges which arise in dealing with gender and climate change in the region. ‘

 

Above: Participants in the discussion on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.
Above: Participants in the discussion on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.

Correcting the imbalance

Vijay Krishnarayan, Director General of the Commonwealth Foundation, stated that governments on their own are not equipped to handle the issues related to climate change. Forging partnerships and collaboration is critical.

‘There needs to be dialogue, learning, and listening. The power relationships determine how action on climate change is played out and the success rate of projects to deal with climate change.’

We want to achieve meaningful involvement of vulnerable people in national discussions on climate change. People who are set to feel it the most are not involved.

As such, the Foundation’s goal over the two days was to ensure that less heard voices are put to the fore.

Gender is an all-encompassing subject which affects our society and must be included in the development of policy to boost effectiveness and broaden representation.

Strategic Gender Mainstreaming was also identified as a way forward.

Gender mainstreaming, established as a major strategy for the promotion of gender equality in the Beijing Platform for Action from the Fourth United Nations World Conference on Women in 1995, requires stakeholders to bring the perceptions, experience, knowledge and interests of women as well as men to bear on policy-making, planning and decision-making.

Key to addressing the gender and climate change issue therefore, is dealing with the detrimental disparity between men and women’s access to economic resources and the means of production.

As pointed out by David Bynoe, National Coordinator GEF SGP Barbados during the discussions, ‘It’s not about fragmented work but about building to make the overall impact better.’

I am certain I speak for my fellow participants when I say that the discussions were enlightening and necessary to help in the regional sharing of information as we continue to work together toward achieving participatory Caribbean governance.

Dizzanne Billy is the Caribbean Outreach Manager at Climate Tracker.

 

Good Manners by Gothataone Moeng

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

It took me a moment to recognise him.  When I did, I was overcome by the shyness of seeing a friend after years, suspecting that he was scrutinising me to see how much of the old me I still retained.

K was a friend from school; we had been in the same classes all four years that I had attended Motalaote Lekhutile Primary School.  He was one of the three classmates with whom I had maintained a friendly rivalry over grades—after every test we turned to each other to ask what was your answer for number six.  After every exam we checked with each other to see who had topped the class.  It was always one of us four.

This time I ran into him at the Serowe Bus Rank, where I was to board a bus to Gaborone. We would have been in our late teens or early twenties.  The buses were running from the new station, which was newly paved, with booths set out for vendors.  The vendors ignored the booths, swirling around us with their trays of fried chicken and chips and the bowls of roasted maize and boiled peanuts that they balanced on their heads.  The bus stops and light poles had been painted the sky blue of the Botswana flag, to coincide with the Serowe Centenary celebrations.

He looked different, of course, older, as I must have looked myself.  His light skin was dotted with dark pimple scars.  He was cultivating a thin mustache that he kept scratching.  His coat was heavy and long, going all the way past his knees.  It must have been cold, although I recall a sunny day, flooded with light, the sky clear above us.  We talked briefly, asking each other about our former classmates.  He still laughed easily, his eyes narrowing and almost disappearing when he did.

I was reluctant to ask him where he was going, what he was doing these days.  Part of me was always reluctant to ask this of my friends from primary school, absurdly afraid to embarrass them.  At 14, I had been awarded a partial bursary to a private boarding school in the city, which got its prestige from selling itself as an international school, thus attracting children of ministers, ambassadors and the wealthiest in the country.  My single mother was a primary school teacher, with a permanent government job, so in primary school I had been considered fairly well-off.  As a boarder, I was one of the school’s poorest students, often called to the principal’s office because my mother had missed paying her share of my tuition.  The fact that I attended this school, taking French and Drama lessons, around students who spoke English all the time and talked back to their teachers, meant that the trajectory of my life had taken a sharp turn from my primary school friends.  Whenever I saw them, I worked hard to reassure them that I had not changed, that I was still the same person who had gathered with them over the soft sorghum porridge we ate at break time.

My wariness around K went further than that.  I had heard that although he received excellent grades, he had foregone university— or was it senior secondary school —and gone to live at a cattle-post.  I had heard that he was now married, with a child.  The person who told me this had said, I am not surprised, the cattle-post is what these people know. 

*

K’s ethnic community is understood to have descended from the first inhabitants of the Southern African region, now made up of countries such as Botswana, South Africa and Namibia. Complicated and unresolved discussions still abound over the correct name(s) to use for these ethnic communities.  The terms Bushmen, Basarwa, San, Khoikhoi, Khoe, Khoisan have been used interchangeably by academics, civil groups, anthropologists and governments, but each term has been found derogatory or inadequate.  In Botswana, Mosarwa (singular) and Basarwa (plural) are the names in official government use.  In daily use, these names often become weapons.  If people are thought unruly or uncivilised—if they show bad manners—they are said to be behaving like Basarwa.   Often, the prefixes ‘Mo’ and ‘Ba,’ used in the Setswana language to denote people, are replaced with ‘Le’ (Lesarwa) and ‘Ma’ (Masarwa), to signal something less than human.

In Serowe, where K and I grew up, it was not uncommon for very wealthy families to ‘own’ Basarwa.  I may hesitate to use the word ‘own’ but the verb used in Setswana – go rua – implies ownership.  It is used to say one owns and takes care of cows, goats and dogs, for example.  A wealthy family would own Basarwa in this way, looking after them, considering them a part of the family while in exchange they worked at the cattle-post, as herdsmen taking care of livestock, or in the village, as domestic help.  In my childhood, this kind of ownership was an open secret; as much a part of life as having to go to your neighbours’ funerals and weddings.  We attended school with the Basarwa children and were friends with them, but we understood that their being Basarwa was not something to be brought up.  It was something embarrassing and shameful that they could not help.   Only an ill-mannered person would bring it up and force everyone to reckon with it.  The polite thing was to not talk about it.

K’ s family had been in such a relationship with the family of a man high-up in government, a distant relative of my mother’s, with whose grandchildren I had attended boarding school.  I was afraid that if I asked K what he was up to these days, all of this unspoken knowledge and history between us would tumble to light.

Continue reading…

Amplifying civic voice: a discussion on gender and climate change

Posted on by Vijay Krishnarayan

Vijay Krishnarayan, Director-General of the Commonwealth Foundation, discusses how the Foundation took a step towards achieving its goal, of mainstreaming gender equality into its mission to advance participatory governance, through  a discussion with civil society on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.

As the Caribbean hurricane season rolls around, memories of last year’s devastation stir throughout the region. Living with recovery is a harsh reality in Antigua and Barbuda, the British Virgin Islands and Dominica in particular. The costs of hurricanes Irma and Maria are estimated to be in the range of between 7 and 15 billion US dollars. Every Caribbean person felt the events of September 2017, because we all have memories of a storm over the past 30 years that has touched our lives. From hurricane Gilbert in 1988 onwards, living with category 4 and 5 storms has become a new normal.

What we talk about less is the way that those storms impact us differently. There is undoubtedly a strong sense of coming together and pride in people’s stoic ability to deal with devastation. This narrative of community resilience raises several questions though. While we all might be at risk, are some not at greater risk than others? While we all have to clean up afterwards, are some not called on to clean up more than others? While we all have something to gain from effective climate advocacy, might some not have more to gain than others?

Above: Participants in the discussion on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.

These are questions that the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) had not engaged with until relatively recently. When it was established in 1992 it was the only one of the conventions agreed at the Earth Summit in Rio that did not explicitly make reference to gender. The Conferences of the Parties (COP) that have convened annually since 1995 to take commitments further have attempted to retrieve this situation – albeit incrementally. The establishment of a Gender Action Plan at COP 23 in Berlin last year sent an encouraging signal but since then there’s been less agreement about how this space might be used.

‘There is undoubtedly a strong sense of coming together and pride in people’s stoic ability to deal with devastation.’

The Commonwealth Foundation’s current strategic plan places greater emphasis than before on mainstreaming gender equality in our mission to advance participatory governance. In practice this means identifying the ways that gender intersects with societal disadvantage. In global climate change discussions, small states and the Caribbean in particular can be marginalised. Gender equality considerations doubly so.

Having taken soundings from civil society organisations and others in the region we convened an exploratory Caribbean discussion on the intersection between gender and climate. This set out to understand what the region’s needs might be and determine how we might add value to civil society’s policy advocacy in this area.  In partnership with the UNDP Global Environment Facility’s Small Grants Programme in Barbados, we invited more than 40 civil society colleagues from each Commonwealth Caribbean country to focus on the issue.

The group that convened had many strengths – not least its diversity. There were established civil society advocates like Sandra Ferguson from Grenada’s Agency for Rural Transformation and Renwick Rose from the Winward Islands Farmers Association in St Vincent and the Grenadines as well as emerging leaders like Cordelia Shal from the Toledo Maya Women’s Council in Belize. There were colleagues from the environment movement like Suzanne Stanley from the Jamaica Environment Trust and those who were not like Chelsee Merchant and Bernard Warner from the Association of Persons with Disabilities in Antigua and Barbuda. The Foundation’s own focus on creativity as a catalyst for social change saw cultural practitioners like Kendel Hippolyte and Oonya Kempadoo also participating.

The three days of discussion were expertly facilitated by Janice Cumberbatch of the University of the West Indies’ (UWI) Centre for Resource Management and Environmental Studies in Barbados. It benefited from an introduction to gender by Kimberly Carr Tobias from UWI’s Institute for Gender and Development Studies in Jamaica. Dizzanne Billy of Climate Trackers in Trinidad and Tobago relayed key messages via social media throughout: ‘Gender is not just about men and women, it’s about correcting the power imbalance’; ‘Gender power dynamics determine who has what rights and what access to resources to deal with the impacts of climate change’ she tweeted.

Above: Participants in the discussion on the intersection between gender and climate change in the Caribbean.

Colleagues also made the connection between governance and effective action on climate change. Some called for transparency in the institutions vested with responsibility for addressing the issue. Others cited what they called ‘transactional governance’ (governance based on incentives and disincentives) as a barrier to broader engagement with the development challenges facing the region. The need for new language to communicate the issues of climate change and gender to a wider audience was called for – not least by the writers that were present.

The meeting closed concluding that while there were opportunities for training and workshops there were not enough spaces for civic voices to gather and consider the big issues facing the region. It was agreed that this gathering had enabled colleagues to learn from each other and so improve their understanding of the issues. While there was value in having civil society talking to each other it was also recognised that there was a need for engagement with policy makers to shape a regional agenda. The Commonwealth Foundation took this message to CARICOM colleagues in Georgetown afterwards and it was warmly received. There’s an emerging area of work for the Foundation here, which could resonate across the Commonwealth.

Vijay Krishnarayan is Director-General of the Commonwealth Foundation. 

 

India’s transformation to a cashless society: what does this mean for the financial inclusion of refugees?

Posted on by Aman

The Ara Trust is a women-led organisation that seeks to use innovative methods to expand the space available for forced migrants and refugees in India. Aman, Financial Consultant at The Ara Trust, discusses the transformation of India into a cashless society and the access of refugees to financial services.

With over 200,000 asylum-seekers and refugees, India is at the heart of refugee movements in the South-Asian region. As per the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the majority are from Tibet, Sri Lanka, and neighboring countries other than Myanmar, and are issued documentation directly by the Indian Government. The others, such as those from Afghanistan, Myanmar, Somalia and DRC, are supported and issued documentation by the UNHCR. Despite these numbers, refugees, particularly the ones under the UNHCR mandate,  encounter difficulties in accessing the formal labour market due to ambiguity around their legal status. As a result, this has led to them encounter difficulties in accessing mainstream systems, including financial services.

India: Aadhaar and Financial Inclusion for refugees from Migration & Asylum Project on Vimeo.

Our project, conceived by The Ara Trust under its Migration and Asylum Project (M.A.P), aims to assist in the integration of refugees into the financial system, particularly after the move, by the Indian government’s November 2018 demonetization policy. The policy sought to remove existing 500 rupee and 1000 rupee notes from circulation, rendering them illegal.  As per the Government, besides targeting black-money, this was also a step towards achieving complete financial inclusion by transforming India into a cashless economy. Every individual would need a bank account, thereby eliminating the underground economy.  With no access to banking services because of the lack of identity documents, cash savings that were rendered worthless, and the difficulty in acquiring the new currency – the impact of the policy was severely felt by the country’s refugee population . The project, thus, focuses on refugees, especially women refugees, who work in the informal sector and earn their income exclusively in cash.

Aadhaar, the government-issued biometric identification card has been designated as an almost-indispensable proof of legal residence, and as a core tool of the government’s drive for socio-economic inclusion. Over the past 9-months of the initial project implementation, it has emerged that those who lack access to Aadhaar, including refugees, are unable to access financial services (including bank accounts) and find themselves excluded from the economy and relegated further to the margins. The Aadhaar Act is not linked to citizenship, and states that anyone residing in India for at least 6 of the 12 months preceding the date of application is eligible to enrol if they furnish proof of identity and address from a  wide range of options available. It should follow that refugees are issued Aadhaar if they meet the residence and the documentation requirements. However, many refugees report that they have been turned away by Aadhaar centres. To add to this, many have not applied for Aadhaar due to the fear of being wrongly prosecuted, as local authorities often incorrectly equate them with illegal immigrants.

‘The project, thus, focuses on refugees, especially women refugees, who work in the informal sector and earn their income exclusively in cash.’

The lack of Aadhaar has paralyzed refugees. Post-demonetization, employers are reluctant to pay wages in cash; thus, even refugees with professional qualifications are confined to the informal sector as daily-wage laborers because of the lack of bank accounts.  Aadhaar is also being increasingly enforced as a precondition to access many services that they could once avail – such as education and healthcare. Further, many refugees report facing day-to-day difficulties like getting a SIM card, leasing accommodation, or receiving money transfers from outside India. This is resulting in refugees being steadily excluded from mainstream systems and leaving them extremely vulnerable to exploitation.

At M.A.P, we carried out a pilot study to assess the roadblocks refugees face in enrolling for Aadhaar. We discovered that most enrolment centres were not clear about whether refugees were eligible, and refugees reported that they were turned away by centres due to the lack of clarity on their legal status. Further to this, we observed that their documents were also not recognised as valid proof of identity or residence; it did not help that these refugees presented varying sets of documentation (stay visas issued by the government, others their UNHCR-issued refugee cards, yet others with their national passports or rent agreements).

Above: Members of The Ara Trust with colleagues from the Commonwealth Foundation.

The requirement of Aadhaar for accessing essential services has been challenged before the Indian Supreme Court, and its decision is pending. However, for now, we acknowledge that Aadhaar is indispensable in allowing refugees to access essential services, and, in turn, integrate them into the mainstream economy. We at M.A.P therefore, find it necessary at this stage to sensitize and seek clarity from the relevant authorities, so that standardized guidance can be issued to include refugees within the purview of Aadhaar and consequently ensure their socio-economic inclusion.

Aman is a Legal Consultant for Ara Trust. 

Fin 24 reports on waste pickers project

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

Informal waste pickers in South Africa have been committed to improving the environment as well as their livelihoods. Waste pickers make an income by combing through waste and selling recyclables from cardboard and plastic bottles to metal, providing a useful service for thier communities.

Fin 24 reports that ‘now they are fighting, not only for recognition, but also for assistance to end their dependence on a series of “middlemen” companies that buy salvaged material to sell on to large corporations.’

Read Fin 24’s report on the waste pickers’ struggle for recognition here.

 

Frank Ferro reports on waste pickers for the South African Broadcasting Coporation

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

The South African Broadcasting Corporation’s segment documents the impact of privatisation of recycling on the waste picker community in South Africa and provides an illuminating discussion on how the waste picker community are treated in society.

 

He Put me in a Bubble by Marwa Haitham Melham

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

In a few moments, you will hear a loud noise like a shot from a high cavernous space.

The echo will be massive. But you are probably used to loud noises and will not know what is happening.
I used to be different from what I am now. My mother was very pleased the day she brought me into the world although she was aware of the mistake she had made. She had given birth to her daughter in a prison, and it would be difficult for her to protect me or smuggle me out. Anyway, it was done.
My mother and the midwife had already buried two of her children before I came into the world. That was the best thing that could have happened to them. Some said I slipped out carrying a bag on my back as if I were ready to set off. Others said I arrived angry. They all agreed that I was so stubborn, I began lashing out from my first few months.
The Dictator was a God. Wherever you went, you found him; whatever you said, he heard. All my movements were suspicious to him. My words were threats. My toys angered him, and he found my brisk footsteps in the prison irritating. He shouted for no reason, and sometimes beat my mother – perhaps to give vent to his hatred whose source we did not know. I was so small I slipped out of his hands whenever he tried to beat me. He got so tired of me teasing him, he began to ignore me.
Our quarrels began when I opened his desk drawer. We were not even allowed to go near it. In there, I found old pictures of the Dictator – always on his own, straight-backed, staring sternly at the camera. In the extremely tidy drawer, there were parts of old handguns with bullets scattered amongst them. There were old diaries and notebooks with their first pages torn out; an empty lighter; scattered rosary beads; keys of varying sizes – some like the ones which came with handcuffs. The big keys, I imagined, were for the huge doors to his magical world, and his castle where he went at night.
The day the Dictator caught me opening his drawer, his eyes bulged and the small veins on his face turned red. He shouted so loudly in my face, I felt like my head was going to explode.
He rampaged through my belongings, stepping on them and crushing them: the bike frame that I’d made from scrap metal which, every night, I rode in my dreams; the sheets of paper on which I drew my friends; the pieces of string that tied my letters to paper planes. And in seeing all my belongings destroyed, I grew up overnight.
When I woke the next day, I had grown taller; my body had gained extra weight; my breasts had emerged and my hair had become thick and wavy.
As the years went by, the prison gained extra rooms and lost some windows. My mother became slimmer, and my siblings more stupid. Though my younger brother knew how to sneak out at night, all he did now was lay in a hole that looked like a grave in the back garden of the house. My older brother had filled his room with mirrors. Whenever we cried, laughed or screamed, he took us to his room, stood us before them and begged us to repeat our actions. His mirrors, he said, would record everything and at the moment of our death, they would show a film of whatever we did from beginning to end.

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Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2018 shortlist announced

Posted on by Commonwealth Foundation

The shortlist for the 2018 Commonwealth Short Story Prize has been announced. This year there were 5,100 entries from 48 Commonwealth countries. Now 24 outstanding stories have been selected by an international judging panel. The shortlist has writers from 14 countries including, for the first time, Ghana and Samoa.

Access the shortlist here.