It was too late. We had tasted sin and seen that the repercussions were unclear and improbable.
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Then I heard blog posts made money for writers. Like every click they got converted to money, like Linda Ikeji's blog. “When Google Ads enter your blog like this, you will blow.” So I tried blogging. I didn’t blow.
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Ignore the temptation to acknowledge that as you grow older, the country’s thorns grow younger. Live like a bird. Do not think of the future.
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We’ve seen it all, really. Yet, we still fall into the trap of a single story—every single time. We still think that we are either this or that; we can’t be both; we can’t be everything all at once.
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Jenny Robson was shortlisted for the 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize. In this interview, she talks about writing and her short story, The Sister-in-law.
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The shortlist for the 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize
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As we celebrate International Women’s Day, we appreciate some of the amazing women we have worked with in the last few years. At Afritondo, we champion the works of African women and will continue to do so.
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Howard Meh-Buh Maximus on getting shortlisted for the 2022 Afritondo Short Story Prize and his writing career
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There are no rules, only conventions about what is good writing
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Our stories are worthy of being told
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On the surface, the coup looks like an Igbo plot: almost all its leading plotters were Igbo or Igbo-speaking, almost all its victims were non-Igbo, and Ironsi, who crushed it and became head of state, was Igbo.
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Pidgin English as a lingua franca in West Africa has united people, creating a bond that transcends borders.
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I get a wonderful greedy feeling in my stomach that POOP Matters will be back here once the opposition leader gets into power and gets drunk with it and morphs into another problematic dictator.
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We don’t stop to ask why everything we do must be in service of a goal. Some things do not have a point, only existing for pleasure and delight, and that is part of the magic of being alive.
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I can imagine him, my father, some pride in his voice, informing his friend that his son, a boy they had watched grow up, had left home.
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They will forbid their people from voting for anyone that is not Musa. The subjects will take the news to their four wives. Their wives will tell their neighbours. The neighbours will tell their children, and the children will write ‘Sai Musa’ on every wall they see on every street.
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Morality, then, is a weapon, and generations of Africans have been indoctrinated into its famed cult. You should then be far from startled that the mere mention of homosexuality, although practised in veiled quarters for traditional, spiritual, or aesthetic purposes, is never given a fair hearing
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Desta’s winning story, Ethio-Cubano, is a collection of memories where Cuban and Ethiopian cultures collide.
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I swear if you throw a stone at random in Hillbrow, you are likely to hit a Zimbabwean. Or some other African. Who that stone hits is up to fate!
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