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The Fishermen

Omi-Ala was a dreadful river. Long forsaken by the inhabitants of Akure town like a mother abandoned by her children.… It surrounded Akure like ans snaked through its length and breadth. Like many such rivers in Africa, Omi-Ala was once believed to be a god : people worshipped it.…)This changed when the colonists came from Europe [and] began to see it as an evil place. It became the source of…

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Waiting for An Angel

“It was in the ships that the mouth-locks were used, so that they [the slaves] couldn’t console each other and rally their spirits and thereby revolt. To further discourage communication, no two persons of the same language were kept together: Mandingo was chained to Yoruba, Wolof was chained to Ibo, Bini was chained to Hausa. You see, every oppressor knows that wherever one word is joined to…

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The True Prison | Ken Saro Wiwa

It is not the leaking roof Nor the singing mosquitoes In the damp, wretched cell It is not the clank of the key As the warden locks you in It is not the measly rations Unfit for beast or man Nor yet the emptiness of day Dipping into the blankness of night It is not It is not It is not It is the lies that have been drummed Into your ears for a generation It is the security agent running amok…

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Life Must Go On

After the civil war, Imperi, a small Sierra Leonean town, tries to rebuild the life it used to have. Three characters, Kadie, Moiwa and Kainesi, come to their native town waiting for the return of the younger generation. Everybody is willing to start anew. However, after a while, their goodwill and energy cannot resist material precariousness: the town lacks food and clean water, the teachers…

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The Rising of the Ashes | Tahar Ben Jelloun

In this country the dead travel as statues and flames They wear eyeglasses and stretch out their scorched arms for flight. We say they became invisible Left to offer the living the years that remained of their lives. Thus only years litter the desert: a century, more. Lives for the taking, as jackals gorged on lives tremble to say: “Death is not fatal just as night is the sun’s shadow.” – From…

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An African Saga

Ségou, south-centre of present-day Mali, cradle of the Bambara people, 18th century. At the the center of Ségou is Dousika, a nobleman close to the Mansa, the regional king, embodiment of power and wealth, everything the Ségou society stands for. It is Dousika, whose household comprises three wives, one concubine and four sons, through whom the narrative unfolds and splits. In this society in…

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Come Away, My Love | Joseph Kariuki

Come away, my love, from streets Where mankind eyes divide, And show windows reflect our difference. In the shelter of my faithful room rest. There, safe from opinions, being behind Myself, I can see only you And in my dark eyes your grey Will dissolve The candlelight throws Two dark shadows on the wall Which merge into one as I close beside you. When at last the lights are out, And I feel your…

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The Sun on This Rubble | Dennis Brutus

The sun on this rubble after rain bruised though we must be some easement we require unarguably, though we argue against desire. Under jackboots our bones and spirits crunch forced into sweat-tear-sodden slush now glow-lipped by this sudden touch: sun-stripped perhaps, our bones may later sing or spell out their malignant nemesis Sharpevilled to spearpoints for revenging but now our pride-dumbed…

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On Destiny | Chris Abani

Destiny isn’t a deck of cards stacked up against you. It is the particular idiosyncrasies of the player, not the deck or dealer, that hold the key. Personality always sways the outcome of the game. –From Becoming Abigail by Chris Abani

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The Broken Man

What if integrity and honesty cannot offer a decent life ? What if, in a marriage, love is gone and is replaced by greed, remorse and routine ? What if, tired of too much correctness, people decide to break free from themselves? “I remember the first years when I was employed in an office working for the Equipment Seecretary. It was Hlima who had first suggested me to claim a commission for…

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Laughing Drums |David Amadu

History’s white hand wrote my country’s course In a language that will come back and hunt her In the twenty first century ; The man at the round-about calls it exploitation Beyond redemption. But I say it is far beyond our imagination. Who would have ever thought Shedding blood for diamonds will be our lot? Not even the ruthless bullies Who scrambled for our land to please their hungry bellies;…

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The Perceived Threat of the “Other”: An Interview with MH Sarkis

MH Sarkis is an artist whose work explores cross-cultural tensions and identity. In our interview with her, she tells us where her interest in art stems from, her influences, how it has evolved and her plans for the future. MH Sarkis ABR: First of all, your name is fascinating. Anyone seeing it without first meeting you is more than likely to think that it’s a man behind the beautiful paintings?…

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visual-poetry

by douglas gordon (+)

viperslang

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.”

Wisława Szymborska, Among the multitudes (via viperslang)

sjovris-deactivated20160916

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles Sosias, Achilles tending Patroclus wounded by an arrow

mikeyj529

Meet my reading list for 2016. This also serves as a reminder never to debate with @jayarrarr over whether certain things–namely, unabridged copies of Les Misérables–can be gotten. (They can, and she’ll prove it)

the-perks-of-being-black

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