Long time, no story! No email notifications, no AFREADA links on Twitter, no Insta updates, no nothing. Content wise, it’s been a quiet couple of weeks but we can assure you that it has all been intentional…
Recovering from addiction was like being retrieved after a great fall, and then placed on the edge of the cliff. It was a precarious place to sit, and Durotimi felt like all it would take was one indiscretionary shot of vodka… [10mins]
Blue, yellow, pink, white stickers all over our living room. On our furniture that holds so many memories. Blue for Tonton Fall, and the Sunday mornings we watched you jiggle your belly to Fela Kuti and make us laugh… [3mins]
When it happened, it was faint, like everything concerning Saro Wiwa. One moment he was trying to pull out a bag half his height and twice his weight, the next he was slow falling to the ground, one leg splashing in a brown puddle, the other buckling under him… [8mins]
A corner in the backseat of a moving bus. Shoprite behind you, an unknown destination before you. In this present you have no future, you want no future… [4mins]
I have tried my best to keep my country alive by writing about it. Nuruddin Farah
‘Have you considered that my daughter here is a soon-to-be pharmacist?’ – ‘Yes, sir.’ – ‘Have you considered that she is now completing her bachelor’s in pharmacy and will proceed to do her MPhil in the UK?’ [2mins]
This story was published as part of the AFREADA x Africa Writes Competition.
