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-Alfred Olaiya EkĂşndayo forced me to tell a story that evening. The others, intoxicated with palm wine, chanted along with him:“Tell us a story!Tell us a story!” So I told them the story of that beautiful lady, AbikĂ©, the black beauty of Lalonpe; one of the king’s dancers. Blessed with a curvy body that glitters with the dangling of her full beads, swerving to the … Continue reading AbĂke
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-Alfred Olaiya Mother, mother, send down the rope, alujanjan kirijan. Mother, mother, send down the rope, alujanjan kirijan. Night’s glints slit tendrils into hollow footprints on desolate playground. Sẹ̀kẹ̀rẹ̀, termites-loam draped, will not indulge in this silenced chorus. Grandmother, passage of your tongue; sinuous labyrinth, buoyed me to crested currents—plunged in flipping leaves; of the … Continue reading Memories from Night Tales
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-Alfred Olaiya I once had a trance of joyous deities, clad in the white robes of Obatala, treading at the gate of heavens. With thier ìrĂąkẹ̀rẹ̀ swaying to the solemn rhythm, they sang the chorus of good fortunes: “May the treasure of our benevolent father seek after the upright humans and may his divine blessings shower on every righteous soul. Ire e.” And they danced with grace, like the Ẹ̀yọ̀s, on the sacred passage of firmaments. Continue reading Ire
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Valentine Chimenem Owhorodu, PhD Image Copyright: https://unsplash.com/photos/an-old-vase-sitting-in-the-middle-of-a-forest-Eu4R4zjcg0M?utm_content=creditShareLink&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash Listen!It is said in the wisdom of the elders: The plate made of clay must one day meet the ground. Yes! It is appointed unto breakable plate that breakable plate must break. But plastic? Ah, my people, plastic fears nothing. It falls and bounces. It drops and laughs. It carries food, yes, but it carries no memory, no legacy. No griot … Continue reading Eulogy for the Broken
Ndubuisi’s panoramic gaze invoking the memory of EndSars, ploughing the cut on the soul of a black boy newly acquainted with what it means to be different, and the mangling of a girl’s innocence. Continue reading Three Poems from Ndubuisi Martins’Â
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