What is happening to Igbo language and cultures and traditional religion? Do we allow it to go into extinction? Do we allow that as a nation? Everywhere is smelling white men, yes, everywhere!
God, If thou be at all Be a blade Cut through it This cape of injustice Sober indifference Let it flow Blood- Trickle into the earth Threaten to form a rivulet To A mother’s tears, Crystal and iridescent A drop in an ocean of sand Watch it grow Diseased seeds-...
TITLE: WALKING WITH SHADOWS AUTHOR: JUDE DIBIA GENRE: PROSE FICTION NUMBER OF PAGES: 216 PUBLISHER: Lulu.com DATE OF PUBLICATION: 2016 ISBN: 141161934X (10), 978-1411619340 (13) REVIEWER: Eugene Yakubu Controversial novel by Jude Dibia ‘Walking with Shadows’ emerged at a time when Nigeria was battling with the idea of homosexuality as...
Beneath your skin, Dark and lovely connubial vials Hold ancient songs buried in liquid deep A serenade in the Serengeti A sunrise on distant hills Shedding light on black and white A myriad of hopes drown in murky waters As my soul holds yours against the tides We are the...
Many things are allowed in the ‘most contemporary’ Nigerian literature, even psycho-imaginative meningioma; proclaim the very art of purposeful nationalist writing— countryside lyricals, activist poems from the contained ghetto-minds— I say the dynamics are vastly enmeshed in the spurring notes of sincere satire and a so self-indicting, predictable sadness, that...
if the black doesn’t forgive there would be war forever if we don’t forget blood would paste our road if the black don’t believe to build faith admits molestation if they don’t………….. no white would walk alive if the black don’t forget how they hang our fore fathers if we...
empty gourds of palmwine clanging at the palace gates though I have not seen a drunk King Akogun! We have lost the battle again where are the men of war? but how? could men have conquered demons with burning torches. . the last masquerade to dance at the village square...
We shall rise on this day To dance on this clay For we shall proceed to Àgbède shed And stop all ìfonáfonsu Let the women converge at the square Let them come with ògidì ògùrò Let them sing to us beautiful choruses With a blend of our ancestral dialect We...
She grips with broken lips In the full glare of blackened eyes Clumsy gait of sheltered pain Celebrated as amazing grace She is Oya deep beneath For the sake of little ones bears Furtive glances of kinsmen Whispered songs of hateful friends Scuttlebut sold cheaply in the market square Down...
Her hips swayed rhythmically to the tempo of the mystical Bàtá beaten with the hands of antiquity at the village square. Elders nodded in accordance, onlookers cheered in glee while trees incessantly bowed at the command of an ancestral wind to the dancing goddess, Omolewa, the mistress of the brave...
