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These are the times We are in dark times, my love. The morning still sweet in the awful sepia sky & I can see war women through my misty window, Sitting graciously, Reciting the rosary on a front porch. Somewhere, at the back of a house, A drum softly thunders...
We are pleased to announce that entries are now open for our second reading period. Aligning with our commitment to promote emerging and established African voices, submissions are open to all African writers. For this issue, submissions of any theme or genre are...
1. my country as a metaphor for joke in my country, we have forgotten how to shiver when we see serrated bodies in short video clips. the gunshots do not cause birds to fly, women to gossip, or children to scamper for safety. but, there is a headless body on the floor...
It was what she had always prayed for. Life. A new life. An opportunity to make life. An opportunity to bring life into the world. After years of trying, she finally got what she wanted, a little bulge that turned into a bump. It was a difficult journey for her, but...
I started writing poetry, intentionally, in 2017. Studying literature in secondary school was mostly the catalyst. I fell in love after reading the poets we were taught
Coauthors: Precious Ozioma Okeke and Olayemi Mary Adeola For decades, African women have been presented as passive humans instead of the independent agents of change and the nation builders that they are. In acts and narratives, women are depersonalized, traumatized,...
With every year that passes storytelling for the African Spirit has found inspiration in the many voices of those whose hearts are riddled with scars, freshly beaten, open to change, embracing conflict, and looking for a heartfelt response to who we are becoming....
The songwriter imaginedstanding amid cellists,before an auditorium of compatriots who have comea long way for laughs& some Afropop as bonus, with the first unit of his poemthat read: I know the Niger& her shore is my favorite place,one I feel most connected...
you become a bomb of rage ready to explode on the shadow that touches the tits of your sister's innocence. what happens to the girl whose households are flowers in necropolis? I wake up every forenoon to an opened old window greeting my breasts or the express...
Kabiru, I will tell you that I love you when the sun comes out at night. Or when it’s break of dawn but the sun forgets to rise. Come thirtieth February, you shall be my valentine. I will be all yours and I, too, shall call you mine. My waist beads will jingle for you...
These are the times We are in dark times, my love. The morning still sweet in...
We are pleased to announce that entries are now open for our second reading...
With every year that passes storytelling for the African Spirit has found...
On the 18th of July 2021, some students of Nnamdi Azikiwe University, named...
Storytelling remains one of the most effective marketing strategy people and...
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