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Goop's capsule, but when he saw tears roll down Mr Goop's
expressionless face, it all fell into place. Tamuka immediately crawled inside
the capsule with Mr Goop, something he had not done for years. It was much
smaller than he remembered. But he managed to eventually wriggle his way into a
snuggle on top of Mr Goop's chest. Once there, he lay still and waited for Mr
Goop's reaction.
    With a slight
sniffle, Mr Goop wrapped its arms around Tamuka, just as it had done many years
previously. Tamuka sighed happily. He realised that it had been afraid for his
life. For Mr Goop truly loved him in its own special way. The idea of losing
Tamuka must have been a great shock and, followed by the strenuous sprint to
get Tamuka home and safe, Mr Goop was simply tired and upset.
    Tamuka felt quite
adult, not only for realising what ailed Mr Goop, but also for being adult
enough to put another's feelings above his own and take the best course of
action to help. His mother poked her head in and smiled at them.
    "Dinner on the table
when you want it," she said and left them alone.
    Tamuka had the
notion that this was probably the last time he would be able to fit into the
capsule with Mr Goop, so he decided to enjoy the moment a little longer, and
right then he felt as if he would burst with his love for Mr Goop. And one day
probably, he dreamily mused, so would his own child.
    But perhaps sooner
than that, Tamuka could ask to go to school without Mr Goop.

 
    Trees of Bone
Daliso Chaponda
 
Malawian Daliso Chaponda is a
stand-up comedian as well as a writer, with shows such as Feed This Black
Man , Don't Let Them Deport Me and others performed in Canada, South
Africa and the UK. He was a Writers of the Future finalist in 2002 and has
been short-listed for the Carl Brandon Society Parallax Award for the following
story.
     
    1
The sound of his bedroom door being opened woke Katulo. "What is it?"
     
    "It's Chama, he's dying." Eyo's voice was an agitated whisper.
    "Get the clinic ready."
    Eyo hurried off and
Katulo dressed. He snatched his walking stick and stepped into the humid night.
This had been the hottest summer Burundi had seen since 2072. In the last two
weeks, Katulo had treated a record number of patients for dehydration and angazi fever. As he walked, he tried to call up a mental image of Chama. He could
vaguely recall a loud boy with mud-brown skin who had been terrified of
syringes. Chama's father was the chief of village police.
    When Katulo neared
the clinic, he heard shouting: "We can't wait for that stupid old man." He
recognised the voice.
    "Just wait. He's coming," Eyo replied firmly.
    It made him proud
that his apprentice was standing up to someone twice his size— especially a
person as intimidating as Osati. Osati's nickname since his teens had been "the
leopard". It suited him. He was tightly muscled, and his motions gave the
impression he might lash out at any moment. Eyo, on the other hand, had a body
that looked like a collection of twigs.
    Osati swallowed his
response when he saw Katulo enter.
    The clinic was a
circular hovel with little space. In the daytime, patients were received in the
yard outside. Eyo and Osati stood between two unpolished wood cabinets and the
sleeping cot. Lying on it, Chama's body looked like slaughtered game.
    "Fill a basin with
water," Katulo ordered. Eyo scrambled to do as he had been instructed. Katulo
turned to Osati. "Bring me bandages and my operating kit. You remember the
layout of the clinic?"
    Osati nodded. He had
been an apprentice five years earlier but had left prematurely. Katulo still
felt anger at his decision. He had shown so much potential. His memory had been
impeccable, and he had been able to make terrified patients relax with only a
few words. He would have been a gifted healer.
    Katulo worked
intently for the next twenty minutes. He cleaned and sterilised the wound in
Chama's side before stitching it closed. The boy's breathing went from shallow
sporadic bursts to