Stories

God is a Black Woman

Ade, righteous, had seen God. She claimed that God was of course, male, white, unlike us. He, according to her, was too infinite to behold. She said she had screamed, closed her eyes and stroked her chest to ease itself of its sudden fiery pulse, in an attempt to make Read more…

By ife, ago
Articles

A Hungry River

It doesn’t always have to make sense.  Don’t accept the darkness. Don’t drown in it. It’s a big lie if you think there aren’t people standing for me. Stop feeling so pressured. Stop staying at the edge.  I am a God of love but I still hold fire. I watch. Read more…

By ife, ago
Cross-genre

A riddle for the ashy sky

Sometimes the body stops believing itself, chews away its skin with venomous thoughts. A miracle God begs you to stop performing. – Wine, Theresa Lola. Years teach you how a Saviour isn’t a man but someone, anyone, who wears crosses on the back, not the tongue. You knew crosses early Read more…

By ife, ago
Poetry

A festival of fire

Google does not answer every question. A fire outbreak nearly does. Or at least tries. On Otedola Bridge, the explosion is a bridge into five songs: Geometry Parabolas of anxiety. A woman who hated math recalls her math teacher’s voice: Diameters split every circle into half. Everything splits now. Diameters Read more…

By ife, ago
Stories

Supposed to be

This is Nigeria and so your name, though common, is pronounced Samweh – not Samuel. On a sweltering afternoon, after an hour of street football where, with your neighbours, you pride in a jersey of the bare chest and boxer shorts, after continuous successions of firing and heading the leathery Read more…

By ife, ago