There are stories about witches and witchcraft.There are stories about me.There are stories about my father.There are stories about my brother. There are stories about my dog.There are stories about my sister. There are stories about home.There are stories about food.There are stories about violence.There are stories about my friends.There are stories about my uncle.There are stories about men.There are stories about circumcision. There are stories about my father’s garden.There are stories about car accidents.There are stories about my grandmother.There are stories about Cape Town.There are stories about population.There are stories about inflation. There are stories about phones.There are stories about theatre. There are stories about drama.There are stories about dance.There are stories about homeless people.There are stories about Zizipho’s mother. There are stories about women of prayer/Christians. There are stories about informal settlements.There are stories about love.There are stories about my late grandfather’s bones who died a long time ago, and his dogs who accompanied him when he went hunting.There are stories about a man who raped and made his own daughter pregnant and ran away.

Xhanti Hawu

Cape Town, South Africa
Khayelitsha Township Youth Participants,
February 12-15, 2007

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