Author 18263

Every Nigerian loves to howl at power, until it resides in the family. It hits differently when a corrupt administration is led by your father or mother, granny, uncle or

Saratu’s grief is a ghost no one can exorcise. Every evening, she still cooks for her sons. Three boys perpetually living in her memory, weeks after they were buried in

Of the peculiar arrogance that endures in polished corporate corridors, most mind-boggling is the belief that radiance may substitute for substance. Or that fragrance could absolve decay. Before any civilisation

In Nigeria’s present as in her past, faith is more torment than pleasure. Religious faith, to be precise. Time and again, it reasserts utility as the opium of the people.

Before the St. Mary Catholic Cathedral snobbishly purged itself of a spark in its ceiling, one of its splendours was the evening devotion and Litany of the Blessed Mother. As

How would you like to bury your daughter? Or would you rather entomb your granddaughter? Your sweet little girl swathed in a funeral shroud. Would you like her to go

Nobody makes a fine corpse. Neither the bereaved nor deceased anticipates the fine details of an ugly death. It hits differently, though, for those who encountered death in common hours,

The random food seller in Matori does not know what Fitch or Moody’s are. She has no inkling about the sweet simplicity of the raters’ steep percents. She only knows

A man whose roof is on fire does not debate the colour of the water used to quench the fire. Yes, he screams to his neighbours for help. But he