One of the difficult parts of moving was having to explain to friends and neighbours why we’d no longer be living ‘here’ next year. Saying goodbye and ending friendships you had forged. It was always sad to leave people behind.
So much is said about those who leave, but no one spares a thought for those who are left behind to pick up the pieces of nations broken apart by decades of greed and corruption
One of the defining characteristics of the Fulani people is their strong sense of community, evident in their custom of never walking alone and always undertaking ‘work and walk’ collectively.
say the shore
is not your home
we who tiptoe around the light
taking shadows for duvet
wary of being razed
I want to tell him that I have no prayers left to render,
that my fingers are strangers to the Tasbeeh.
But I roll my tongue towards forgiveness before I sin again.
The road ahead is a forbidden way
leading to a discotheque for lost boys.
You are trying to say home, but I mistake
it for run, & so I leave.
This body is Biafra. I want to be Ojukwu. I want to secede this flesh. Let me break out.
I go into every accident—headfirst.
the cesspit claimed by frogs is an ancestral heirloom.
You wake up, your mouth is too heavy
To say the morning prayer. Your knees
Are too weak to kiss the cold floor.