Author Archives: Anena

About Anena

Harriet Anena is a poet and fiction writer, journalist and many things, some of which she's not aware of. She's the author of A Nation in Labour, a poetry collection and has published several short stories. She's in the kitchen, figuring out the ingredients for her second book.

Of minis & tight pants: Let’s know when to shut up


By penning this blog, I’m probably committing the same sin I’m about to reproach a section of our media for – not knowing when to shut up. So I’ll keep it short like the mini-skirt that is once again dominating … Continue reading

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To the star that never shone…


Government releases O-Level results. In Ntungamo District, Sekyondwa goes to pick his results from school. It is Third Grade. Aggregate 68. He is devastated! He goes home. Takes poison. Dies. His parents weep. His friends miss him. His head teacher … Continue reading

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The Other Chapter


I told my sister, Okot plunged his tongue in my mouth when I was 13.  He called it a kiss He inserted his hands in my blouse and tried to make dough out of my breasts. He called it romance … Continue reading

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I killed a man last night


It started like this. The Doc said I have a syndrome. When the syndrome comes, it sets my spine on fire, my intestines go into a pull and shrink mode, my mind forgets what it should remember and remembers what … Continue reading

Posted in Every Day Life, Half Long Stories | 4 Comments

1. Are you wearing a bra?


The #ImaginedConversationSeries takes place in the writer’s mind.                               Believe it at your own risk.                       … Continue reading

Posted in Imagined Conversations | 5 Comments

My midro income status


I was just minding my mouth eating a samosa when I saw them. I slowed down as I inched closer to the roundabout and the traffic lights turned red. The rest of the cars ground to a halt and they, … Continue reading

Posted in Commentaries, Every Day Life | 5 Comments

Another meal on this #HighTable


I am chocking on laughter that’s too demoralised to leave my mouth Yesterday l was bloated whole day on laughter that was too high on hope to stagger out of my mouth Months earlier, l’d hoarded my laughter, certain you’d … Continue reading

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