There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. That was what Abiola Ajirebi concluded as he gently applied the Ketoprofen ointment on the bunions blighting his left foot… [4mins]

i tell my mother as she moulds handful of wet, rose water infused henna paste on each of my fingers that i don’t want to feel uncomfortable this night… [5mins]

You are late. I waited for you when I was fifty. I prayed and cried for you to appear when I was sixty. You had to wait till I was eighty? Was it to ensure that I suffered just a little bit more?… [4mins]

The solitary shoot springing out of the crack, breaking through concrete, fills me with a grudging and somewhat twisted sense of admiration. I can’t help but wonder at the power in this tiny living thing, and the irony that, in this single act of natural defiance, life has triumphed over death… [15mins]

I run after her as she’s forcing the money in her hand back inside her fancy handbag, I tap on her leg to draw her attention. When she looks at me, I quickly rub my palms vertically in three swift successive motions… [6mins]

Mother never lies. She once told me every woman had a little madness in her, which she could set free at any time… [2mins]

There is an old market woman growing inside of me. My mother weeps for me the night I birth blood. I feel the turbulence of an ocean in my womb being emptied. She says I have become a woman and I want to celebrate my womanhood but my brother looks morose and my father has fear in his eyes… [2mins]