The strong, sweet smell of well brewed coffee and muffins in a chilly atmosphere is one of the first things you encounter when stepping out of London’s Heathrow airport on arrival. The hurried ambiance is intensified by the sound of marching feet and silent bag trolleys trailing an array of different colored people heading everywhere… Continue reading WILL THE REAL GENTLEMEN, PLEASE STAND-UP?
TITLE: SO LONG A LETTER AUTHOR: MARIAMA BA TRANSLATOR: MODUPE BODE-THOMAS GENRE: Prose NUMBER OF PAGES: 96 PUBLISHER: Waveland Press, Inc. DATE OF PUBLICATION: May 21, 2012 (1st Edition) ISBN: 978-1577668060 REVIEWER: Shoola Oyindamola I have always thirsted to read a book that showcases African feminism and MARIAMA BA’s SO LONG A LETTER (as interpreted… Continue reading ‘SO LONG A LETTER’ SHOWS AFRICAN WOMEN DON’T NEED THE ‘FEMINIST’ TAG TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT FOR THEM — a review by Shoola Oyindamola
Where was feminism? When we were in school, Uncle Shola beat boys seven strokes And girls’ bum-cheeks three Where was feminism? When father farms field Ada carried grains Her twin,Arize,loaded on tubers Where was Feminism? When Shewa slapped Femi Unto Teacher reported Femi was punished for whole Where was Feminism? When Sarah called Abram,lord And… Continue reading WHERE WAS FEMINISM? by Oloyede Joshua Adekunle
I’ll not be a good husband because… I do my laundry by myself there’s perpetual order on my shelf I fold my clothes… pant, shirt, singlet there’s no pinching odour in my toilet I’ll be a terrible husband because…. I cook my food, it’s rarely bought there’s no sign of soot on my pot I… Continue reading BAD HUSBAND IN THE MAKING
Dead Joseph Hill sang some lyrics Of women rioting in the kitchen Who downed their spoons and went on strike Saying, “all we want are equal rights!” In jack boots, they marched to God On soap boxes, they demanded repatriation Protesting the curse of a man’s world That places no value on a woman’s worth
Look how nifty our rounded bottom have settled On great seats of Beech and Oaks Running the world while our homes burn I weep as the Algebra steals our hands Our hands from the knife and potatoes Our hands from the first buttons of our blouse, Oh the magnificent shoes we now walk in, How… Continue reading RUNNING THE WORLD WHILE OUR HOMES BURN