After Warshan Shire’s Home, and Fela Anikulapo’s Sorrow, Tears and Blood. Warsan Shire says: “no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a Shark…” Nigeria is the mouth of a shark. Everyday we work, we hustle, we thank our god that we’ve made ends meet just to wail, roil, and gnash the next? To what end, I ask? Sorrow, tears, and blood? Dear Nigerian, no one is coming to save you, You are your own saviour. Through debilitating loss, pain, anguish… you are your own saviour.

With pain, I write these broken words. Like our dailies: they tell of woe, they tell of loss, they tell of death. Numbed into voicelessness, speeding towards desolation… these words of despair are all I have. 💔

In the east, The sun rises with the translucent promise of another dawn. Championship racer, I loathe to rev my engine for one more circuit of this emptiness. This flatulent rat race has chipped away at the vestiges of my soul for far too long. …

Oftentimes, when I consider how my light has been spent, when I am faced with the mortality of my human existence, I wonder… Who are we? What are we here for? What is the meaning of our existence? Where do we go when we die? Do we assemble in Odin’s…

There is an age-old trope often attributed to the traditional Yoruba society that a woman is only to be seen and not to be heard. However, this trope is challenged by Tunde Leye in his book Afonja: The Rise (“Afonja”) through his depiction of his female characters. When contrasted against…

The Muslim holidays are over, and I’m back at work, doing my 9–5. I’m trying to centre my mind to commence the day’s work, but I keep losing focus, and it seems like I’m fighting a losing battle as to having a productive work day. …

His name was Yellow, or so we called him. I confess though; we never really knew his given name. We called him Yellow for the colour of his skin, golden yellow like the ripened Pawpaws we plucked from the tree in Iya Taiye’s compound. Yellow was one of those persons…

They say death is a memory, but I have no memory of my death. Only the stuttering of my lisping tongue remain as memento of the time when I visited the doors of death. My name is Oluwafemi and I am a stutterer. However, I was not born with my…

I am angry, and for good reason. The Nigerian people have no say in how they are governed and this pisses me off. On paper, yes, we have the power. “We the people…” BUT. ONLY. ON. PAPER! In reality, the relationship between the Nigerian government and its people is that…