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
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T.I.R.E.D by Gimbiya Galadima is a collection of more than hundred poems that uses humour to highlight societal issues. Set in modern day Nigeria, it takes you on an emotional journey from the sufferings of the unemployed, to black girl magic and leaves you with a final note that induces nostalgia and gives hope.
In the cfwriterz admin group, we just completed Alain Mabanckou's Broken Glass. You can get it on Amazon. It's really a strange writing style but I enjoyed it. He gets away with a lot of things, he is a reckless writer and there is so much to discuss, especially his...
I have hardly known this division. The pain of being black until I crossed into South Africa. Now Julius Malema in his voice, laden with ice-cold pain, wrapped in cynicism and delivered in uncultured disregard, serves the pain of Winnie Mandela' s death to the world....
Cfwiterz is pleased to announce a new special issue for June 2018 focusing on the theme “Burn.” We do not particularly restrict content or style, we only ask that you bring on the best of your craft. Our writing platform focuses on Africa and Nigerians, we welcome...
We should be dancing under the glow of the yellow bulb. My thick afro hair glistening in the bright light. A gramophone on the big brown cupboard in front of the table. A radio on the ottoman, its antenna stuck out like antlers. I should be dressed in a polka dot red...
Chief Oluyemi was a very wealthy man with two sons. He was well known all over Igada because of his kind gestures towards everyone and his good services to the people who came to him for assistance. He was very kind to the extent of knowing when one was in need. The...
Susurration And here, at the crossroads, hesitation lingers like the pounding voices of migraine. My head ― a anvil of hooves, stammers in scattered dialects like this melancholic mumbling of water-bodies. On my spine is a hulk ― a sulking sketch of paranoia with...
My skin, coloured as shades of earth, Considered of no worth than dirt; They called me nigger, And made me a gold-digger. They made sweet bitter, And filled pools with my tears. The world looked on; Apparently, no cared. My hands became acquainted With miry depths of...
I don't understand men who respect their mothers like nobody's business but disrespect their wives just as much. If you've seen a woman struggle through pregnancy, you would understand that it takes a lot of devotion to choose such a predicament for anybody. I have...
"All women are witches." All women are too emotional, women are this and that. Maybe women would forever remain a mystery to us. To this world. Or. Maybe you could share your unique perspective on women. It's International Women's Day on March 8. Tell us a story about...
The dark clouds for so long became The daylight sky I only know, No moonlight nor sun for a game Nor stars to shine the path I tow, Yet Undaunted embers shimmered. Down came the rain of grief upon Me ; with starry eyes and frail knees pondering the goings-on To a...
