Category: Fiction


I loved my mother. She was my father’s typical script, playing roles that were directed only by patriarchy. My mother fitted perfectly into his constrained perception of what a woman should be; the type that says ‘you can only...

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The Uprising #Dec2018

I remember the first time I saw my father hit my mother. We were seated around the dining table having breakfast. My parents were arguing about something, their voices low, when suddenly, my father leaped out of his chair and in...

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FASARA #dec2018

Nana was telling us the story of the sun and the moon today. Rana and Wata. Nana’s Hausa was spoken like she was the first student of the gods of the kanem Bornu empire. Even when she was wrong, it was difficult to tell...

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The Growth #Dec2018

     I eased myself gently into the old, brown sofa in the sitting room, my hands on my sore back. My dirty white eyes settled on the aged brown clock hanging obediently on the wall. The seconds hand moved round and round but...

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