I was becoming so good, too good that I could write someone’s destiny. So when my muse became tired of my poetic praises and my love, I lost all purpose. Soon I became an empty quill. Speechless. I reduced myself to a spectator, attending poetry events and festivals in Kano, Abuja, Kaduna or wherever I could, and from afar I’d cheer online performers in Orange Poetry, Hilltop or Alitfest, while I go snap, snap, snap, or fire emoji, fire emoji.
Lagos influences most of his writing—its chaos, culture and vibrance, diversity—and like many other Nigerian writers, his work is inspired by gender-based violence and conflict themes. In an interview with Funtimes Magazine, he said, “Most of my initial poems have been responses to societal issues.” However, recently, he has been “very interested in the concept of joy; what it is, why it’s important, and how to capture and share it through poetry and performance.”
After reviewing thousands of applications from Africa and the Diaspora, the LOATAD Black Atlantic Residency supported by Hawthornden Foundation have picked 10 applicants for their 2025 residency including Abdulrazaq Salihu.
There are many ways to read “A Cult of Fireflies”— the best, in the company of a lover, a private picnic in a lush garden under the sun. Because each poem is a box of sweet, each stanza, a smile unwrapped, each line, a glass of wine.
Following the release of Jamila Abbas's poetry collection, "Between the lines of a photograph", the official launch of the collection is set to take place on the 23rd of November, 2024 at 3:00 pm at Moeshen cafe, Abuja, Nigeria.
Your days were no longer short in the university, it was mostly business as usual, but you had your own charms. Like how, when I took lectures at the old campus, I looked forward to you so that I would listen to the khudba and pray the Friday prayers. I loved the silence when the Imam’s voice travelled through the audience. I loved seeing the elderly women, who were regulars at the mosque, dress in their best attires and sit to pray. I loved it when the ladan said “a tsaya, a shiga sahu, a rufe salula, babban dan yatsa a kan layi, rufe salula malam”. I loved the imam’s voice. I always imagined how his lips moved, and his tongue rolled when he recited the Qur’an.
While growing as a little girl, I found pleasure in looking at the sky.
Renowned author, Aminatta Forna, once said, “If you want to know a country, read its writers.” Perusing Christopher Okigbo’s literary works would teach you of Biafra—a mirage of a country.
Titled Ujana, the Swahili translation of the english word, Youth, the chapbook captures the zeitgeist of Nairobi and East Africa, with the poems in it presented as urgent and important portraits of what it feels like to be a young artist in the region at this current age.
In 2023, my primary motivation was to express my frustration built up from a conflict of self-identity. I was (and still am) navigating this crisis: as the eldest son, a male child, and, in my parents' eyes as of 2017, something of a disappointment due to my decision to abandon my initial ambition of becoming a Catholic priest. I remember in 2017, after deciding not to continue with the vocation, I didn't gain admission to my preferred university to study the course I was passionate about (fortunately, I am now in the clinical year of that program).
