Livraison le même jour – Nathan Abeta
Livraison le même jour Nathan AbetaLe soleil n’avait pas encore séché la rosée sur les toits de tôle ondulée de Yopougon Maroc qu’Abou était déjà pris au piège. L’air était épais des odeurs mêlées du réveil du quartier : le puissant relent des ordures du caniveau à...
My Country Describes Itself to Me & Other Poems – Jide Salawu
My Country Describes Itself to Me & Other Poems Jide SalawuSea Stories I have no stomach to keep sea stories.Ten thousand boys are crossingthe black Atlantic without life jackets.In Thiaroye-sur-Mer, hundreds are wadingthrough the butane eye of the...
Come Come, Let’s Go Cycling in the Woods – Afọpẹ́fólúwa Òjó
Come Come, Let’s Go Cycling in the Woods Afọpẹ́fólúwa ÒjóWe speed downhill past the wild thorns, pass the vestingbar, go beyond the witbreuksweg into the woods, past the thick bushets and olive groves that constantly seek out each other, grow together. An unreplied ‘I...
Autopsie d’un pays encore vivant – Richard Stanley Philius
Autopsie d’un pays encore vivant Richard Stanley PhiliusÀ tous ceux qui, un jour, ont connu la peur Cette sombre nuit torrentielle où il pleut à grosses gouttes, on dirait que la pluie bat de plein fouet la capitale. Les familles, barricadées derrière leurs murs et...
Our Histories Do Not Make Us Who We Are & Other Poems – Emmanuel Sanusi
Our Histories Do Not Make Us Who We Are & Other Poems Emmanuel SanusiOur Histories Do Not Make Us Who We Are Fractured bones buried under the silt of dust,Our names, long forgotten by mouthsThat named us, mouths filled with light,Heavy with glory, heavens...
Confined Hour – Olaseni Kehinde Precious
Confined Hour Olaseni Kehinde PreciousCHARACTERSFolarin – Philosophy lecturer in his late fortiesSunday – Mid twenties undergraduate SETTINGA cramped university office SCENE The curtains all stay down, and the fluorescent flickers occasionally. Just above the curtain...
These Mothering Seasons – Zainab Omaki
These Mothering Seasons Zainab OmakiThe tap water is tepid. You stand at the sink, running a soapy sponge over a glass plate trimmed with hibiscus flowers. At your side, your son has his arms wrapped around one of your legs. He is screaming. Deep from his little...
Saba Saba in the Suburbs & Other Poems – Gathondu Mwangi
Saba Saba in the Suburbs & Other Poems Gathondu MwangiSaba Saba in the suburbs For the Kenyan youth injured and killed in the protests of 2024-25. There were morning gloriesforget-me-nots, yesterday today tomorrows, leaves, branches everywhere, hues and shadows...
Dreams, Pursuits, Things – Emmanuel Olabiyi
Dreams, Pursuits, Things Emmanuel OlabiyiSECTION 1: DREAMS Dear B, I. Little nails in my mouth, someone puts them there one by one, and I look on, unperturbed. Like it's something the wholeness of my mouth craves. Locks of hair, unkempt faces incline at a traditional...
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A Very Brief History of Extraction – Siphiwe Gloria Ndlovu
A Very Brief History of Extraction Siphiwe Gloria NdlovuPart I Koh… Koh… Koh… The Man is 24 years old when he has his first tooth extraction. The dentist – a Doctor Watson, but that is elementary – uses the tools of his trade: a gum lancet loosens the incisor, canine,...
The Giver of Nicknames – Rémy Ngamije
The Giver of Nicknames Rémy Ngamije Prelude. When we were clowns, children, and things – before we sprouted personalities, individual hopes, and collective guilt; before we reconciled all aspects of our conflicting beings – there were four Donovans at our school:...
The Couch – Zanta Nkumane
The Couch Zanta Nkumane IThe couch is a living thing – did you know? That’s why I can’t take it with me. I can take the fridge because it’s not a living thing. It breathes cold air. I can take the cutlery or maybe the washing machine for practicality and to save...
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And the Dead Were Lonely – Kabelo S. Motsoeneng
And the Dead Were LonelyKabelo S. Motsoeneng There were riots outside the Immigration and Customs Enforcement office at 450 Main Street on the hot summer day Hopewell’s body was found. He lived on the third floor of an apartment building made of bricks the colour of...
Our Girl, Bimpe – Olakunle Ologunro
Our Girl, BimpeOlakunle Ologunro 1. In 2017, Bimpe Adedeji created another Facebook account. The reasons for this are numerous, but to sum it up in one point, she had become mature. The first time she created a Facebook account was in 2013, the year Facebook became...
Dear Moon, I Am the Colour of Water – Alain Jules Hirwa
Dear Moon, I Am the Colour of Water Alain Jules Hirwa Note: The names of most people and places mentioned in this essay are fictitiousPART I: MY PASTWe were looking for more faith than what we had for we wanted to become priests, and sometime later, bishops, sometime...