Fifi Oddly Nollywood villainy is demonstrated in various ways, like the sleight of hand with which the evil-doer or villain would sprinkle juju in another’s food like it’s parsley. The villain here stands alone as the juju/jazz by itself, excluding even the person who goes to the babalawo to get…

My mother was a badly behaved woman. She held her own and did not let father, husband or society tell her how to live. She simply lived on her terms. …

Do you know the stormsong? The one they called Ibuntah? He came in the nothingness of an empty tributary, His life-rope running into the earth. The storm is blood and fire, for the earth is a womb. His flesh is a wall and his bones are pillars for the wind…

I’ve always thought of death as rain. It falls all around us and touches us all. Inevitably. Some people narrowly escape it sometimes, but most times, it catches us unaware. Cold, shocking. The first time I witnessed death, it was from a distance. I had just turned 11, and my…

Freedom Park Jowhor reclines in his chair and draws in long and deep from his electric cigar as the sun goes down. Before him is a row of shops selling ofada rice, swallow and alcohol. The shops all have flags of the countries they hope would patronize them. Lagos as always been…

By Fifi Oddly — They say check your privileges so let me check ours: we are legion for we are many. We are dominating the African scene in the West and different art forms. We are too proud. We’re not letting other Africans be seen. Recently, @tidetherecluse tweeted, ‘I hate being Nigerian and they…

By Akinmoju Busayo — “How could you say the trees spoke to you?” Because they did. Before the trees spoke, they were in eternal silence. Then God sighed through them — deep into their roots — and in response, they heaved a mist. They were the trees of creation. They lived in the swamp…

on intimacies, portraiture and reverence. — By Allyn Gaestel You are so beautiful it kills me, I said. I’m not, love, he said. Perhaps on the inside. Don’t insult my eyes, I said.

By Lanre Apata — Our favourite TV shows may elicit joy or sadness while hope melts into despair in the texts we love dearly. Our beloved painting sometimes leaves peace or chaos in our minds, or both at the same time, when we trace its lines and colours with our eyes. We often visualize…