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Biyankavitch #2

Read Episode 1 of Biyankavitch here Tsakani winced when she heard the front door slam. There was an instant drop in her mood as she picked out Pero’s footsteps approaching the bedroom. The weightless sounds of laughter from her sons playing outside were replaced by Pero’s cranky voice on the phone. The door creaked at his entrance. Tsakani forced her eyes on the clothes in front of her. She was engaged in the activity of folding them into one of three bags she was packing. Pero stayed by the door, still on the phone, but eyes on her. His prayer mat was wedged underneath his armpit. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said in Yoruba to the person he was conversing with. Tsakani wished he could go on with the phone call and give her the solitude she desired. She wished he had returned to the office after the asr…

Biyankavitch #1

For everyone who missed when I first published this, I’m sharing this first episode of Biyankavitch again. There was a major downtime from my host and I lost some posts. I apologize for the inconvenience. The gangly policeman who wore his beret on his forehead and went about with droopy shoulders was going to kill somebody tonight. It didn’t matter who. He was going to wrap long fingers around somebody’s neck and smother them for waking him up from a much-desired nap. He hadn’t winked an eye in three days. From a sick toddler, to a troublesome wife, a desk plagued with cases and a boss that ordered him around like an errand boy, the man had had to endure more than he normally took. The station was understaffed and so he found himself doing the job of two or more police officers. Sometimes, it felt like he was carrying…

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