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 healer is a scriptural historical fiction novel showing two families in a seemingly hopeless situation.
What happens when the only one who could help seemed to procrastinate the healing of one for another?
‘A Rose For My Country’ is a collection of 18 beautiful poems on recent and contemporary massacres, bombings and rioting in Nigeria from 1967 till date.
The collection is a wakeup call to affected and non-affected Nigerians as they may just wake up one morning and find their skin ripped off from their body.
It’s also an eye opener on how far the rate of massacres and bombings has immensely increased in Nigeria from late 1960s till date with concrete records of places, time and dates where these happened with deep metaphors describing the scenes, and how victims were victimized.
A rose for my country is a collection of poems every Nigerian should lay hands on, so as not to be left in the dark, waiting for light, sometimes we need to fit in God’s shoes to create them.
A young boy from a family of four is faced with a difficult family dilemma just as every other member of his family is. His father had decided to add to
the family in a way that posed a threat to other members of the family; and while his mum seemed helpless, the boy alongside his brother was
determined to distort his father’s intended move. The young boy had a scary dream that morning and that only compounded his worry. He suddenly realized that the situation at hand was more complex than he could have imagined it to be.
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GOOD NIGHT. Author: Paul Abiola Oku-Ola My pen refused to write Even after doing everything right And going down to plead Still it refused to give heed 'Let me lie That I might be with him on high Let me journey with the soul Who made for us a gorgeous stole Chinua is...
CHINUA ACHEBE LIVES ON Author: Umebei Ndubuisi The demise of professor Chinualumogu Achebe who was one of Nigeria's erudite scholars caused a stand still in the world. He was respected worldwide for his renowned intellectual disposition, literary prowess, and life of...
Dimples of Freedom. Author: Mbizo from Zimbabwe . Dimples of mighty river donga, river Sokoto flowing honey of liberation, dripping sweetness of decades Of freedom harvest Taraba and ekuku flowing with seasons coming after one another Winters in tears and summers in...
ACHEBE; A DEAD THAT LIVES Author: SALAMI UGWU LAWRENCE. Men live to die; that's uselessness, But you Chinua, live, die, only to relive. Elegy we will write, Dirge humanity will sing tirelessly, For to mourn you Achebe O! What sweet pleasure we gain. People thought...
The capital city of Anambra State, Awka was yesterday thrilled and overwhelmed as the Anambra State Chapter of the Society of Young Nigerian Writers Anambra State Chapter held a one day literary programme in the memory of Late. Prof Chinua Achebe. This great...
By Izunna I. Okafor With our pen we speak, Not that our voice is raised at peak. The ink outpoured by Pengicians Appears like rays of stars in the bans of magicians Who brought the pen to the earth with which the men have grained and breathe The lower ones are...
By Oladele Oluwatofunmi My thoughts keep calling me away, At exactly 5:20am ,my phone's buzz Called me back to reality, I was having an exam at 8:00am , I had slept off while studying... I was lost in my dreams, sitting close to the river bank,where the moon...
A Story Series By Eunice Oladeji The few fortunate ones, like my father, were the medical students of the University College, Ibadan, who got the opportunity to complete their studies in the University of London. It was there that my father met my mother who...
Birthed under the waxing crescent moon, After rigorous nine moons in sacred shade, Questions allude his new state Thirst for answers, hungered for power Are the gods really to blame? For the decisions made To satisfy our selfish desires and opulent taste, Painting our...
By Similoluwa Joel I jerked awake, my muscles popped as my hands wrapped around the chair arms in a deadly grip. From the deep recess of my sub-conscious, I had heard a heavy rumble, and felt my seat vibrate. I glanced around the silent room, disoriented for a...
