In Memoriam: Why Poets Die (for Kofi Awoonor)

  Emmanuel Iduma Audience at Kofi Awoonor memorial at the Nairobi Museum (Photo by Paul Munene, Quaint Photography) Let’s assume from the outset that poets die because they stand in the way of politics, and let’s find a way to…

In Memoriam: Anna Politkovskaya

                                                                           Klas Lundstrom   A Memorial to Anna Politkovskaya. (Image Teppo) October 7 is the annual date of the death of the Russian writer and investigative journalist, Anna Politkovskaya. It was a miserable and shameful deed in 2006, which…

African Sacredness, When Fiction Becomes Reality

                                                    Serubiri Moses   “No one who loves life would wish to imitate her dedication to martyrdom  nor would wish it for his children nor for anyone else whom he loves.” – Susan Sontag, Simone Weil (New York Review of…

Selected Photography by Sentury Yob

Night time Experiment Night time Experiment 2 On the set of ‘Pitie’- Jovi Witi Bakoto Carol photoshoot On the set of ‘Pitie’-Sentury Yob Mufor Eric Atangana aka Sentury Yob was born in 1988. He is a poet, rapper, writer, photographer…

From Scions of the Malcontent to Men of Contentment

  Wirndzerem G. Barfee     A work of art is, and can be, read from multiple perspectives. One of the most engaging perspectives to read Macviban’s collection, Scions of the Malcontent (SOTM), is by collapsing the opposition between the…

Thoughts On Ethnic Minority Literature in Nigeria

Adebiyi Olusolape     Ani mi Gogo Layi Ma ige be Ma ige ke Ma ige po ji Gogo Layi Aganza e ri ige, e la ivo la Esobi ni ifo e dan e ayegbon Aba na kyu ‘du, wa…

[Poetry] Shakespeare by Sihle Ntuli

Sorry William, I had to stab you with a spear and have you shake Frothing out the mouth Clear saliva blocks unclear syllables spilling out As you try to say “thou art no air” and your eyes roll back While…

[Poetry] Born in these Times by Lillian Akampurira Aujo

I. I’m told of a time When houses were deserted And bushes were havens, by night. Babies’ mouths were plugged By nipples – sore with welts From infants’ starved and teething gums Mothers bit on their lips – drew blood…

Call for Submissions

While we sit discussing the word, power works in silence. — Michel Foucault   New African Literature— in the modern use of the expression such as “New African Photography” and “New African Jazz”— has lately become a monopoly. A monopoly…

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