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Imago Journal

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Three from Imago No.2

Imago No.2We are delighted to announce the arrival of the second issue of Imago.

Contributors to Imago No.2, Vol.1, 2010

Simon Abbott, Sam Beckbessinger, Lauren Beukes, Ryan Cannell, Sarah Frost, Kevin Hoole, Karen Jennings, Keith Edwin Jennings, Liam Kruger, Liesl Jobson, Matthew Milne, Helen Moffett, Busi Mnguni, Redvers, Donald Powers, Simon van Schalkwyk, Nobantu Shabangu, Tamaryn Sutherland

Three from Imago No.2

From Smileys by Lauren Beukes

Thozama is not a sheep. Not like these heads in their bloody packets at her feet, with pink tongues lolling from their mouths, lips curled back, revealing sharp and yellowed herbivore incisors, like a smile, like a sneer, like men when you can’t tell what they are thinking. Like this man, Soldier, who has swung in to the scalloped plastic seat facing her on the train and leaned over to introduce himself.

It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of open seats in this carriage, second class. The trains going to town are gagging with people, literally choking them out onto the platform with every heave of the doors, but there are not so many heading back to Langa at eight fifteen in the morning.


Bitter Firstfruits by Liam Kruger

Make me Irish;
Let my death be bloody and sweet
And merry, a grin hued into my
Paling face as I become carrion.
Let my children, bastards all,
Pick gold out of my pockets,
And steal iron nails from my boots.
Let a drink be poured out for me,
A flicker of silence, before the brew settles,
On a cold night, in a warm room.
Let there be a song, on some days,
That has strangers weep for a me
That was not, and for my untrue death.


From Sniping in Savannah by Helen Moffett

We were asking for trouble. One white woman and two brown men heading out to explore the back roads of rural Georgia, USA, over the St Patrick’s Day weekend of 2007. But it smelled and looked like spring at last, and we were desperate to escape the featureless, tentacled sprawl of Atlanta.

It started at the car rental stall at the Emory Conference Center. I stared in dismay at the vast white beast ticking and blinking before me (‘a free upgrade, ma’am!’). My gleeful companions promptly dubbed it the Titanic. I would be driving it every mile of the way, well over a thousand of them. We were quick learners; in two months in the South, we had only ever seen one white person pulled over by the highway police – a stringy, long-haired youth who was led away in handcuffs. As a middle-class white woman with a formidable frown and an imposing bosom, I was sacrosanct, and we all knew it.


Preview Imago No.2 in the Little White Bakkie ebooks store
Imago No 2, Vol 1 2010

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Recent comments:

  • <a href="" rel="nofollow">Byron Loker</a>
    Byron Loker
    February 16th, 2010 @15:34 #

    Yay! Well done, Lady Sophy. Glad to see Simon's in there.

  • <a href="" rel="nofollow">Liesl</a>
    February 16th, 2010 @17:32 #

    Is there going to be a wild party, Sophy-Editor? Hope we can at least make a toast somewhere nice.

  • <a href="" rel="nofollow">Helen</a>
    February 16th, 2010 @20:28 #

    All Hail to the Whippersnapper. Well done!


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