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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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...
It is difficult to understand why humanity is so divided despite boasting the same characteristics. Writing on the subject of "races", one is confronted with the challenge of methodology—whether to approach it from a religious perspective or scientific. The former...
The cfwriterz platform is honoured to present awardees for the month of January. As a way to recognize literary prowess, we have a monthly award section that applauds creativity, style, elegance and diversity. We have awards in the Fiction, Nonfiction and Poetry...
Bound by horrid sorrowful chains, My heartbeat is riddled with pains, I try to seek comfort in memories, They wander instead in nomadic melodies, And as such time, my soul wants bliss, All I hear within and without is, Whispers, such quietness, Hush puffs of words,...
They called me "Striker." He was called "Mature." The rule of play was; should the ball go over the fence, whoever it touched last, would go after it. This was the way football had been played in the lodge before I came in, everybody kept to it. Mature, was a gang...
Life is a mall of chances Set with ranges of choices A survival for all a sundry To carve a future that starry All exist with the crave for love and money For an abode flowing with milk and honey A world of uncertainties we live in Nothing is certain we bleed...
When I was seven years old, I asked my mother why the jar of palm oil on her kitchen shelf was never full. She said, "Pray for God's blessings child". So I prayed and prayed to God for Him to open the floodgates of His kingdom so my mother's jar of palm oil would be...
On a usual day, when you get to the village of Umuchu, there is a maze with a nexus connecting the dirt roads and here, it is easy to lose your way. The path in proximity to where there is a cluster of market women of all grades— prating, haggling, buying and selling—...
There was a time in history when blacks were exhibited in zoos like wild animals. Man! That was a dark part of our history. Even though things are not as extreme as they once were, you'd be the most ignorant being in existence if you are made to believe that the era...
Ifeoma was in high spirits. She was incapable of hiding her excitement. One look at her you would think her a teenager going on her first ever date. But then, you wouldn't blame her. Today was going to be a first for her as well. After all the procastinations and...
