The Neanderthal and his beautiful cave
The Neanderthal stepped out of his cave. It was a good cave. No, it was a beautiful cave. It was a beautiful cave, deep with many rooms. It was the best of all caves.
A step-by-step guide to becoming a revolutionary using Wi-Fi and vibes
Since taking power in September 2022 (read: gentle, consensual coup), Traoré has become the patron saint of Africa’s favourite social media genre: revolutionary cosplay. He is what would happen if Thomas Sankara and an Instagram filter had a baby. But don’t let that distract you from the facts. Or actually, do—because they’re not important.
Memoirs from the bottom of the pot
This pot has seen things. It has seen me boil water I had no intention of using, just to convince my body that life was happening. It has seen me cook noodles with only pepper and pride. It has seen me measure crayfish like diamonds, count seasoning cubes like votes. My pot knows the weight of scarcity. It knows that sometimes, hunger is not a feeling. It’s a timeline.
When yam comes knocking
When occasions call and yam is involved, fathers shun off their crying precious daughters—their once-upon-a-time apple of the eyes—and they sheepishly welcome a few tubers of yam to their mortar. Gbegiri, egusi and assorted will accompany the daughter’s dowry on the journey of no return.
Holy holy — and other Nigerian diseases
People are raised to believe suffering is spiritual. They’re told to fast their way through emotional abuse, and to forgive predators if they can quote Psalm 91. We have glorified silence and called it submission. And because nobody wants to offend “men of God,” many people suffer in silence, hiding wounds under long skirts and choir uniforms.
How to become a campus politician in Nigeria: A satirical guide
If you’re the smooth talker, your job is simple: form alliances, overuse words like “representation” and “inclusivity,” and write long WhatsApp broadcasts nobody will read. If you’re the tyrant, be prepared to threaten, manipulate, and intimidate—yes, even your own campaign team. Either way, nothing must actually change on campus under your administration. That’s the golden rule.
A country of people aspiring to madness
“Guy, ask about me, I dey craze gan o,” the first man would assert. To which the second man would say, “Na where your madness stop, my own begin o!” That should have been my first clue that something was terribly wrong. How could sane people want to be mad so much?
The ordeal of the Nigerian Twitter feminist
You know who you must avoid? A woman who does not cook or clean every day, who outsources food and cleaning services regularly, who has a career, who is ambitious, or — God forbid — who hires nannies to watch her kids while chasing her dreams and living her life. The icing on the cake would be an unmarried woman, a divorcee, and a feminist who is also a baddie. LOL! This category of women are tagged “bitter, wicked, frustrated witches”.
Voltrons: Defenders of the rising sun
Once upon a happenstance, the people of the valley where the sun rises were beset by all forms of marginalisation, subjugation, intimidation, exploitation and all other —tions that bode despair. They were treated like strangers — nay, pariahs — in their own country. Who would blame them for seeking to break away and forge a new path? There is a limit to what a people can endure.
The tax collectors
The last time I coughed, I looked around to confirm that Banku was not at my back to demand a tax. Anything you do here, you must pay for it. This is how we live in the Bolebaji community. The only thing Banku and his bloodthirsty boys are satisfied you do for free is shedding tears of agony. Tears of joy are not free.