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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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...
