March 1999. The flames of the stove burned slowly under the pot of soft ewedu leaves, and eighteen-year-old Atinuke could tell it was ready just by looking at it. She reached for the Ijabe and with a pleasant hum under her breath, begun to
Hello there, How’s your ride into the new year coming? I know it’s about that time of the year where the most resounding subject matters in the media, the papers and word of mouth are “Goal setting”, “Resolutions”, “Affirmations” and
Emmanuella’s fingers leafed curiously through the glossy colored magazine, wide and overlapping her left hand. Her body hunched forward on the toilet seat with her feet, falling asleep from sitting for too long. She wiggled her toes to ease the
I looked out through the narrow window of our thatched mud house, the rain was heavy, cascading onto the sandy ground in a heavy downpour. It seeped into the soil, forming puddles of brown clay with water flowing in no
I looked out through the narrow window of our thatched mud house, the rain was heavy, cascading onto the sandy ground in a heavy downpour. It seeped into the soil, forming puddles of brown clay with water flowing in no
