Spare the Rod Their body is a sealed brown envelope labelled as classified presented to the government at birth a temple of the lobbyist gods on the altar of failed heads lays the prey whose prayers are a political statement a property belonging of your family your pastor your partner this body is never yours celebrations in order when your life is on the line a dystopian...
Cost of Living I write of the anguished cries from the Chad to the Atlantic a fellowship of broken souls frantically fighting for survival on sinking sand no salvation for starving mouths in pot bellies no faith enough to move this rock of bad governance The timeline with its bants rants tweets in search for missing persons pleas for crowdfunding — cries for help spread...
It is with deep satisfaction we announce our maiden residency anthology: The Ibinabo residency, our brainchild with Iko Africa ran from April to August this year, and facilitating the residency has been one of my finer achievements this year. On timely achievements, that is what this anthology is. A culmination of talent, hard work, and inspiration. We hope you receive it in the way it was...
The pain we don’t survive There is pain we perform The one we dress up nice enough for everyone to see There’s pain we gauge we can take So we take that one and hold it So that we don’t swap it for a new one There’s pain we know, pain that we can trust because it’s familiar Sometimes we even preempt it and then sabotage until we get the same results But there’s pain in its true form Unexpected...
Sneakers you did what my former lovers Couldn’t. you stayed you stuck through the mud the torrents and the seas until there was no space to hold my feet. you stayed with till you were old battered and worn out just like our unspoken vows for better and for worse. until there are no holes to lace. Author’s Bio: Melody Tobi-Makinde is a freelance writer and poet who enjoys reading and writing...
Hello everyone, long time no see! This has been by far our busiest and most successful year in the House! Kicking off with the residency, the Ibinabo residency ran from March to June and we had 11 participants. Partnering with Iko, this brilliant initiative brought so much excellence to our roll call and we are pleased and proud to be able to run it every year. The residency has also produced an...
I GUESS THIS IS HOW I’M GOING TO DIE I She prayed for this day. She had dreamt about it for years, her mind weaving fantasies where he was more than just a memory. In those dreams, he was the sky, the earth, the very air she breathed. His husky voice lingered in her mind, his presence so vivid it made her body tremble. And now, here he was, no longer a figment of her imagination, but flesh and...
I open my bag for some change to pay the fare. It’s missing something- my purse. My little one is looking at me as I ransack the small leather thing, upturning its content on my lap. A piece of wax crayon rolls to the floor. She doesn’t pick it up. I look at her and say with my eyes, where’s my purse? She looks innocently back at me. I take her bear-shaped bag...
SINCERELY, NONSO BY OMOWERO AGBOR Sade’s greatest weakness will always be her expectations. She expects her friends to see through her thin attempts at happiness and still let her be. She expects that kindness and inquisitiveness will speak for interest and determination. She wants her lovers to be kinder, her reflection to praise, not haunt. She hopes the books she reads will heal her; the shows...
UNRAVELLING THE LAYERS OF SELF HATRED BY OLUWASIKEMI Self-hatred It feels like a familiar ride. I’ve been on this ride a couple of times, and I know the sharp bends and turns like the back of my hand; it no longer phases me. Unlike the “stages of grief,” this ride doesn’t come with stages; it’s a loop of relentless spinning and jumping out is a gamble. Will you land safely, or will the impact...
