Itanile is a literary brand that provides a platform for African writers to publish stories they want to tell about the African experience. We are committed to developing new audiences for African literature. We provide a storytelling platform that connects African writers with their readers
We’ve hosted and led impact-driven creative and literary projects through collaborative effort. Our global community is always growing to reach more and do more.
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Writing undoubtedly has become an essential part of storytelling. What we learn by observing the digital space in the twenty-first century is this: you need to know how to write. Politicians, event managers, athletes, grocery store owners, all of these people need content.
Here’s a compilation of training resources from our second installation of the Itanile writing workshop with Resoketswe Manenzhe @avatar_reso, and Kolawale Samuel Adebayo @officialpstkay (IG) & @samofthevoice (Twitter).
The poems traverse through dirges and nostalgia to arrive at a convention where love is a fleeting thing. The prose – the entire issue, even – beckon the reader to partake of whims, dreams, and dares.
This collection is free to download and run by a volunteer team, we would appreciate donations from you to keep our doors open throughout the year. Please donate here or message us: [email protected]
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The writers in this issue have taken the decision to shape the dialogue of the day by continuing to write. In doing so, these writers have opened new doors to all sorts of conversations about everyday living. They have also given us stories that make us gasp delightedly, cry and laugh. Such was my experience reading them. Through the stories, I was reminded of our shared humanity. I was also prompted to remember our complexities as humans. In the end, I found myself gaining fresh perspectives.
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I remember being with a friend who talked about how she used pain to suppress pain. She gave me an example where she had had a stomach ache and had pinched herself, saying that the latter brought a certain kind of pain that was sharp enough to distract her from...
The Magazine entries for "Wings to Fly" have been come in waves! We have however found these gems. They'll be moving on to the next stage. CFWriterz is thrilled to announce the shortlist for the 2018 Dec. Freedom Magazine Award.The following eighteen pieces...
LIFE AND MEDALS “I ALWAYS BELIEVE I CAN BE THE BEST, ACHIEVE THE BEST. I ALWAYS SEE MYSELF IN THE TOP POSITION.” _ SERENA WILLIAMS. The above statement was made by Serena Jameka Williams, an American professional tennis player, ranked No. 1 in singles on...
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 be seen but can’t be heard’. She was such...
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 one forceful movement, reached down and...
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 and she seemed to hold her head high when she...
Does it still hurt? Does it still hurt? Did it feel like fire ants settling on your...
Elegy of a Boy who fell off the Cliff. Below the white linen on the medical barrow are putrid wounds; Of torn flesh, smashed marrows and stretched meat. The ruins and remains of a fall from four ten feet Of a faceless boy who tipped off the cliff bounds; Down through...
I am fine. The sadness in me finds no expression, So I paint a smile on my face While the sadness festers, Rotting the core of my being. Still, I wear the plastered smile of a happy chap, Always replying, "I am good," "Everything is fine " "It's nothing_, never mind."...
Upon This Road I have been walking upon this road longer than I can remember, all I know is that I am a peripatetic mosaic of tales held in place by colourful tears and granulated dreams mixed with an adhesive of pains that sear me to the bone I cannot but notice the...
