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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The woman beside her was chubby and rounded and the wrappa around her waist was hostile to the brown blouse she wore. Her head-tie was faded beige and had fallen off to the ground. Her head was shaking vehemently in rebuke and her body in total rebuff of surrender. The woman kept on bustling in roars; Obara Jesus! Obara Jesus! with her hands striding in very ridiculous rhythm.
When we invited writers for this Issue, submissions of any theme or genre were welcomed, but especially so for works that explore the concept of journeys through the lenses of travels and tours―what it means to travel, to seek out new places. To write a story or a poem or an essay, writes Garth Greenwell, is to make a claim about what we find beautiful, about what moves us, to reveal a vision of the world, which the writers in this Issue have done with their work.
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Love is a Beautiful experience, especially when the girl is still carrying the original copy of her brain. The one that let's her know that you don't meet a guy today and start taking his name for prayer session. Adura is one girl that my heart rings for every time I...
This story is inspired by true life events. It was the early 1940’s, the air was thick with dew and the ground beneath flush with vegetation. All neighborhoods or most rather, wore the ever-glowing look of home, a feeling every kid should have during their formative...
Mme Jacques Cartier-Bertrand sat in a daze, her glassy eyes, red and swollen, staring at no one in particular. The salty stream of clear liquid pouring down her face was completely ignored, causing a wet patch on her black Yves Saint Laurent top that she wore. Her...
I like the way Jerry says my name without really seeing me there. He drawls it out like a silent prayer, like a whisper to a god you know has already answered your prayers, a sigh. "Nesi" "Yes brother" "Get me a cup of Akamu" "Yes brother" "Nesi, take this dirty cup...
Jide had wondered why everyone seemed to ignore him even before the funeral procession began. He saw all his childhood friends around, moody, teary eyed and refusing to talk. Even Kebiru, the notorious school bully was seen with traces of tears in his face. Was this...
I was in my penultimate year in the university when I first met Jamal. He was seconded from the Police Academy's medical college in an exchange programme. For a policeman, you'd expect a strong, tall and huge build - Jamal was the exact opposite. It must be why he was...
Edet sat before the review panel. His heart was pounding. He had enjoyed five years full scholarship scheme with added international networks. He finished top of his class. It had been no surprise. Or maybe a little since he had strong competition from his fellow...
A girl hung herself in my office this morning, looking at her body slowly sway, turn and twist, I had to think about all the possible explanations I could give my wife. I have also taught about that empty fan hook before, it had this appeal, it looked like it could be...
First, we had the problem of handling so many entries via email. A lot of writers want to get published here. So we decided to create a uniform system so that admin would work easily and accept your story easily. Now we have submissions that are sometimes not up to...
Love Lost They bade her goodbye She bade them good riddance They couldn't wait till she got back She couldn't wait till she left They counted the hours till the reunion She counted the hours till boredom She called every month Then the day came When they realized She...
