We have to write. History books cannot be trusted. We must write our stories, weave them into art, painting, poems—because at the very least, we have to let it be known that we tried. That we resisted. That we didn’t want this to happen, but it did.
The thing with impunity is that everyone suffers from its existence… Impunity touches everyone in one way or another.
Sonde’s Mellexy: Colours Of You is a book of utopian love verses and nimble lyrics, something to get lost in while tucked in bed for the night.
One of the quiet triumphs of The Ways We Fought is its sense of Africanity that does not require assertion. It lives in the rhythm of speech, the weight of names, the presence of community that is, at once, protective in some ways, destructive in more, and always complicit.
ORÍ is a success, bringing attention to a long-present but less-celebrated genre of spoken word poetry in Nigeria.
Journal writing has profound benefits. For some it boosts confidence, for others it provides relief for the loneliness epidemic plaguing society today.
In Yoruba, language lifts rocks and holds down birds; offers shelter to feelings, so wide that it becomes scary to stay in.
For Boys Who Went may challenge readers with its coarse literary style, which lends the poems a rich and raw intensity. While its expression can feel unrefined at times, the profound impact of its message on the reader’s mind makes it a collection worth revisiting—an offering both thought-provoking and unforgettable.
The future of African poetry fills me with so much urgency. My vision for the future is practical: more African-led publishing houses, more translation projects between African languages, and more platforms for critical dialogue.
