Fiction

Michael Emeka: Bush Baby

The pathway along which we trod was wide and flanked by bushes. As it was night, the bushes were dark and thick with the chirruping of insects. Rays of moonlight lanced their way through the overhanging branches above and brightened sections of both the bush and the path. There were seven of us, within the ages of six and seven, except for three-year-old Nnam, sleeping on the back of his sibling...

Agaga Fredrick Abangji: Somewhere Beyond the River

Ama said men rape women when a wildfire breaks out in their waists, and that the logs just below their waistlines are almost always on fire. She said only a man’s water quenches his furnace, howbeit the gods have drilled the source by which his stream is set on its course between a woman’s legs. Mother said he wouldn’t get his fiery body off you until he, being an epileptic dog, rumbles in...

Mujahid Ameen Lilo: Landscape of Loss

In the summer of 2013, I had free afternoons because I had graduated from Islamiyya and my certificate, a colorful slate with a calligraphy of Surah Fatiha, hung on the wall of the living room. I spent the afternoons doing what I loved best: looking after Mama’s drugstore. Every day, after school, I wore my lab coat, my spectacles, took a book and my plate of food. I felt like a doctor, a real...