The Kalemba Prize — at the end of 2017, I entered Zambia’s first short story prize in its inaugural year. I wrote a story I loved. In 2018 it won first place. Read it here.
Darkness envelopes her. She has to blink to adjust her eyes. The voice pulls her deeper into the dimness. Kunda moves steadily, but her breaths are small and shallow. There is no relief from the mustiness.
Mali Kambandu, A hand to hold (2018)
Writivism — entering a Pan-African story prize was daunting. The result blew my mind. Read the story here.
She has to look again. The couple have their faces close to each other, he holds her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist, but their eyes are locked in a playful dance. There is a magnetism between them that jumps out of the frame.
Mali Kambandu, The Photograph (2018)
Reflecting on my emotional college graduation.
In whose hands could you possibly put the life of your child? In what could you trust so completely to ensure your child was safe, protected and not corrupted by all the perversions that spit children out of university every year?
Mali Kambandu, Graduation (2018)
I found a beautiful and decadent perfume. I lost it. And found it again. Had it changed?
Sensi was with me when I disappeared into the dark auditoriums of cinemas to lose myself in foreign films that revealed heartbreak, tragedy, suspense and joy in ways I couldn’t find anywhere else.
Mali Kambandu, Sensi (2020)
Mali Kambandu, Writer 