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Underneath the starless sky in a little garden in Ikeja, a woman’s voice shakes into the microphone: ‘but my grandmother echoed ‘Nana, nana, nana…’; exactly eleven times, like the cooing of birds at dawn,…
The MFA Chronicles blog series offers perspective on the experiences of Nigerian writers who are currently on MFA programs, shedding light on the challenges and rewards of such a journey.
The Abebi AfroNonfiction Institute, established by award-winning writer Mofiyinfoluwa O, held the award ceremony for the annual Abebi Award in AfroNonfiction in a quiet..
This body, your body, is always ready — for love, for affection, for pleasure, for decadent songs of praise.
“Out yonder all slithery in a house full of women. Not women locked safely away from men: but worse, women who chose themselves for company, which is to say not a convent but a coven.”
In a world where women are told all the things they can or cannot do, Chigozie Obi’s art creates a realm where women exist in unbounded freedom. Bleeding, smoking, staring into space: we are ushered into a world where women can just be.
You are a creature of light. Once the darkness comes upon you, you are no longer yourself. And that is what happens on nights like these. You are unravelling.
Time is stealing him from me. As one day bleeds into another, I find that I can no longer recall his scent. The same scent I sought out daily, burying my nose in the crevice of his neck, taking deep, long breaths.
The first thing I do is say a very quick word of prayer. I just say “Thank you God for waking me up this morning.” Usually, on a good day, I will move straight into doing devotion on the You Version Bible app.
IN THE HOUSE MY MOTHER built for us, there is a room with a white desk.
It stands on two sturdy legs, its entire breadth bespeckled with brown powder patches, gray ash stains and faint smudges of blue ink; the body of a thing well touched.
It has been three years since my father left the house and what I miss the most is his humming. You see, my Dad would wake much earlier than the rest of us and he would hum his favourite hymns as he moved through the house.
when they ask you why you do not whisper, tell them fear was not buried in your mouth. your mother’s blood opened your eyes, loosened your tongue, sharpened your teeth. this is your birth right. let them know you belong here.
