NOVEMBER 2023 / ISSUE 83

MAAME EFUA
ESHUN
Visionary, Creative, and Dynamic

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 1

 AFRICA is Glorious!
See for yourself!

writersspace
.net
The best of African Literature

2 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

Editorial Team

FOUNDER
FOUNDER
Anthony Onugba POETRY
Anthony ‘PenBoss‘ Onugba Omadang Yowasi
Uganda
Chisom Benedicta
CHIEF EDITOR Nigeria
CHIEF EDITOR
Scholar Akinyi (CE)
KenyaAkinyi
Scholar Everisto Tatenda Simayo
Kenya Zimbabwe

ASSISTANT CE
ASSISTANT CE SHORT STORIES
I Echo
Ghana
I Echo Stephanie Nanyongo Darah
Ghana Cameroon
Victoria Enyonam Adonu
Ghana
CHILDREN’S LITERATURE
Lise Nova Berwadushime
Rwanda REVIEW TEAM LEAD
Namse Udosen
Nigeria
Namse Udosen Funminiyi Akinrinade
Nigeria Nigeria

CREATIVE NONFICTION SOCIAL MEDIA

Fiske S Nyirongo Eben Ace Sarfo
Zambia
Fiske S Nyirongo Ghana
Zambia
Ismail Saidybah Precious Adekola
The Gambia
Elizabeth Dwamena-Asare Nigeria
Ghana
Adeng Malual
South Sudan
FLASH FICTION
FLASH
EziomaFICTION
Kalu
Nigeria
Ezioma Kalu WSA INTERVIEWS
Nigeria
Natasha Moses Mwampashe PPBlessing
Tanzania
Natasha Moses Mwampashe Nigeria
Tanzania

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 3

 CONTENTS

in this issue...
Poetry
24 Philetairus’ nests
Bongani Zungu, South Africa

Children’s Literature 25 The Homestead

Marial Awendit, South Sudan
07 The Elder’s Thief
Jessica Murage, Kenya 26 A Murder Of Crows
Elias Denen Dodo, Nigeria

Creative Non-Fiction 27 Imposed Nuptials

Matrida Phiri, Zambia
09 A Letter to Edward Francis Small, a 28 Bees at Night
Gambian Statesman Sarah Frost, South Africa
Fatou B Camara, The Gambia

Flash Fiction Short Story

13 The Crayon Family 30 Welcome Home, Stranger
Taiwo Adewuyi, Nigeria Adedolapo Grillo, Nigeria

14 Gathering Relics 34 Under the Veil of Darkness

Umaru Jennifer, Nigeria Chitsanzo Changa, Malawi
36 Forbidden Fruit
Ogooluwa Jayeola, Nigeria
38 Wrong Move
Joshua Laryea, Ghana
41 Green Memories
Suhaibu Safiyanu, Nigeria

4 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 Editorial
Scholar Akinyi (Kenya)

What, in comparison, would be a delight of beauty that when it matters, through

to the eye? A single star floating in the the thick and thin of life, we gather, as
vast sky, or star clus-ters? if there’s a magnetic pull within us that
I stargaze involuntarily. It comes to me to will always gravitate us toward each
look up at the sky and search for a star. other? The enduring spirit of Ubuntu
And some nights happen to present a gal- that, today and forever, I hope holds us
axy. Those have been the best stargazing together, much like the forces that hold
nights—the beauty of gatherings, the gift the stars in a galaxy.
of the universe to gather beauty for the It is also my hope that this month’s edi-
delight of my eyes. I have always found tion of the WSA magazine illuminates
it fascinating. your literary eyes with a beauty compa-
Our humanness, our being, our patrio- rable to that of stars.
tism, and everything that defines us as As we approach the festive season,
human has always been depicted in gath- which is the culmination of gathering,
erings: funerals, weddings, politics, wor- I pray for delightful galaxies for your
ship, festivals. Oh, even a roadside motor- eyes, bodies, and souls.
ist accident, and we gather. Isn’t it a thing

WSA Awards
On the cover
• Monthly Digital Literary Magazine of the Year -
2022/2023
Maame Efua Eshun is (The Corporate LiveWire Global Awards 2022/23)
the visionary behind • Best Monthly Digital Literary Magazine (Africa) -
2022
Golden Quill Editing Solu- (Global Business Awards 2022)
tions and the dynamic co- • Best African Literary Magazine - 2021
(MEA Business Awards 2021)
ordinator of Writers Space
• Writer Promotion platform of the Year - 2021
Africa (Ghana chapter) (The Corporate LiveWire Global Awards 2021/22)
Page 16

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6 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
 CHILDREN’S LITERATURE

THE ELDER’S
THIEF
Jessica Murage
Kenya

According to my father, his grandfather heard my father laugh.

was an elder of the clan, one of the highest
Anyway, this story is not about my father
ranks among the Agikuyu. He had been
or his grandfather. It is about my cous-
given birth to by a traveler thus rising
in who has brought shame to the family
through the ranks on his own. A year be-
name. He is named after my great grand-
fore his death, my father had told me about
father, the elder and he is a thief.
the traveler who gave birth to his grandfa-
ther. You see, he was not a traveler only; The clan is gathered in my uncle’s com-
he had been exiled from his land. So my pound today to listen to his case and de-
mother had not been entirely wrong when liver his punishment if proven guilty. He
she had called my paternal grandmother will be found guilty; the village knows, we
a witch; after all, the old blood still ran in know, even his mother knows. She pre-
her veins. That had been the last time I had pared sweetened porridge for him in the

7 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 CHILDREN’S LITERATURE

morning and drew him water for a bath. were in the shed. Karoki had stolen my
Children are not allowed in the gathering cow. I don’t have a cow and an old man’s
of elders, but my uncle has a big mango bones need milk.”
tree behind his rickety store and I intend
The next and last victim is my other uncle.
to hide there.
His story is short. “Karoki stole my pesti-
My uncle is an elder and he is leading the cides, sold them, and used water to spray
case. My cousin’s neighbor starts and gets my fruit trees; now I have no produce.”
in the center of the circle. “Karoki came and The elders are quiet for a minute and then
told me that the cows to be vaccinated were they start chattering. Messing with a man’s
to be vaccinated. As I don’t go out much, produce is against the law of the land. Who
nobody had sent word to me. As you all will pay for his son’s dowry now? And the
know, I’m an old man whose feet cannot child’s dedication? His wife will surely
take me to the cattle dip. I was overjoyed leave him.
when he offered to take my cow for me. As
My uncle hits the ground with his staff and
you all know, my children are grown and
the elders stop chattering. “ Karoki will be
don’t visit home.” He stops and spits, and
banished from this village for ten years. It
all the other elders spit. It’s a shame for a
is decided.” The crowd is silent; the moth-
child not to visit a sick parent.
er wails and his father shakes his head.
The old man continues, “When I went to The branch snaps, and I panic then fall in
help myself behind the tree just outside the center of the circle. My mother gasps
my compound, I came across my neighbor and my uncle shakes his head. Luckily
and asked him whether Karoki was back for me, children cannot be banished, but I
with the cows from the cow dip. He told don’t feel so lucky when the staff lands on
me there was no vaccine, and his cows my back.

8 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 CREATIVE NONFICTION

A LETTER TO EDWARD FRANCIS SMALL

A GAMBIAN STATESMAN
Fatou B Camara
The Gambia

Dear Edward Francis Small, es, ploughs, huts, cobblers, and sweepers.

Estelle Morris once said, “Politicians want “Ask not what your country has done for
to create an irreversible change because you; rather, ask what you have done for
when they leave office, someone changes your country,” Jawaharlal Nehru once
it back.” said.

Every man in the shade today sits because Many recognize your exceptional Gambi-
the tree was planted years ago. We can an political accomplishments. You wanted
call him Gambian politics’ doyen, pioneer, to help Gambians, especially farmers and
and father. You educated and freed your labourers. Being one of the few educated
people with your pen. Religious leaders Africans in the territory, you taught them.
opposed British rule before your famous Evening schooling was supplied to the vil-
Gambian politics. You’ve been honoured lagers.
for your Gambian political work. Today,
The Gambia Farmers’ Cooperative Asso-
we honour your heroic sacrifice that freed
ciation began in 1917. At the 1920 Ghana
the Gambians. National grandeur de-
Conference, you gave a powerful address
pends on mothers’ unflinching dedication
on West African self-rule. Your amazing
and sacrifice. You and other brave soldiers
move created the National Congress of
fought for future freedom and dignity for
British West Africa and the Gambia branch.
years. Breaking free took time. Freedom
In 1922, you founded “the Gambia outlook
fighters like you let us express ourselves,
and the Senegambia reporter”—the colo-
believe in our values, and be proud of our
ny’s first nationalist newspaper and one of
heritage. You died so our nation could live
the earliest Pan-African tabloids—to give
with bravery, honesty, sacrifice, liberty,
the people a voice.
freedom, and independence. We salute
your heart struggles, tenacity, passion, You founded Bathurst, the first legally
and commitment to our motherland, Gam- recognized trade union in The Gambia,
bia, which has grown from peasant cottag- in 1929. Your greatest accomplishment is

9 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 CREATIVE NONFICTION

rising, not staying put. The 1935 internal rule and toward self-determination and
issues that broke up the Bathurst trade independence. You trained JC Faye, Gar-
union, now the Gambia labour union, led ba Jahumpa, and others to continue the in-
to a new union. dependence movement under your guid-
ance.
“No taxation without proper represen-
tation,” was your early 1920s campaign You inspired many, including Alieu Ebri-
slogan with other West African Patriots to ma Cham Joof, who led the 1959 Bread and
advocate elective representation and give Butter March that led to Gambian indepen-
the people tax control. The Ratepayers’ As- dence. Many Gambians will continue your
sociation won all six African city council heritage of independence thanks to your
seats in 1936, becoming the first political inspiration, freedom, religion, memories,
party. Since it benefits everyone, you cre- and patriotism.
ated this political party in 1930. In French
After your death in 1958, other indepen-
West Africa, you formed political networks
dence movements prevailed. The Gambia
because a small group of devoted people
was Africa’s longest-running multiparty
with a solid purpose can change histo-
democracy. The Gambia’s transition from
ry. You were definitely appointed to the
a democratic government under Sir Daw-
Legislative Council to represent Bathurst
da to a dictatorial government under Yaya
in 1941. You defeated IM Garba Jahumpa
Jammeh, a coalition government under
and Sheikh Omar Faye in 1947. Gambians
President Adama, and now a Barrow gov-
elected their first citizen directly.
ernment is an intriguing case study that
You were reappointed to the executive should be fully examined in the context of
council in 1951 after being appointed in African politics. Understanding how the
1947. Mr. Francis Small, these extraordi- country has changed since independence
nary achievements led to independence from Britain in 1965 is crucial.
and republic-hood. The people of this
Mr. Francis Small, since then, the country
great nation only have sovereignty be-
has thrived and suffered under different
cause of you. Light brought you out of the
political periods in terms of health, econ-
old world. You won after seeing that poli-
omy, education, and security. When the
tics is the art and science of ruling. You and
presidential elections were held in 2016,
other great thinkers fought colonialism.
Adama Barrow emerged victorious, and
You campaigned for African racial repre-
by all means, that was seen as a turning
sentation in colonial rule and West African
point for the country. Gambians were opti-
cooperation on common challenges.
mistic that a new dawn had arrived, which
Like all true revolutionary Pan-African- would usher in a new Gambia. A new
ists, you fought between western Chris- Gambia that was on the right trajectory but
tian and Muslim and anti-western forces got short-lived. What went wrong?
to set the Gambian people against colonial
Dear Francis Small, in 2016, President Bar-

10 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 CREATIVE NONFICTION

row initiated several reforms, including Education is free in Gambia, but our sys-
the Janneh Commission, which revealed tem is a mess, Mr. Francis Small. Poor edu-
how Jammeh’s regime looted the Gambia; cation policy and curriculum. High unem-
the TRRC, which revealed Gambians’ suf- ployment and insufficient job options for
fering and brutalities under Jammeh; and graduates contribute to high crime rates.
the CRC, which drafted a new constitution
After COVID-19, the health sector deteri-
to change Gambians’ lives and political
orated. Paracetamol is scarce in our hospi-
landscape to consolidate democracy and
tals. Rising maternal and child mortality.
usher in the third republic. Many Gambi-
The economy is down, commodity prices
ans who wanted a new constitution were
are high, house rent is rising, and the cost
crushed when Parliament rejected this
of living is rising, making it tougher for
draft constitution.
Gambians to live. Social vices include cor-
My dear Edward Francis Small, due to re- ruption, bribery, inequity, and high crime.
cent massive losses, many Gambians are
Finally, our beloved Francis Small, after
wary of President Barrow’s policies. Presi-
57 years of freedom from Jawara’s rule
dent Barrow is offering Jammeh allies key
through Jammeh’s and now Barrow’s, the
positions in his cabinet. He nominated sev-
Gambia you envisioned and anticipated
eral for high-level parliament jobs.
has not materialized.
Revered Edward Francis Small, “How far
Government change was like repackaging
has the Gambia come in its 57 years as an
old wine. It tastes like 57-year-old wine.
independent state?” A million-dollar ques-
Corruption plagues our nation. Rising debt
tion.
causes an economic downfall. Gambians
Is Gambia living up to your agricultural, are poor. Youth, education, and agricul-
political, and educational vision? “Where ture are departing for greater possibilities.
is Gambia in global development?” Poor remuneration makes civil servants
live hand-to-mouth. Gambians have had
Mr. Francis Small, Gambia’s agriculture
issues since 1965. The Gambia was sup-
economy remains undeveloped despite
posed to be redeemed in 2016 when we
your efforts. Subsistence, rain-fed, and
overthrew a ruler. Gambians are growing
low yields require imports. You fought
desperate as President Barrow appears to
British exploitation for farmers, but noth-
be failing. When will politics’ messiah ap-
ing changed. Farmers must feed the nation
pear? A good leader will be honest, incor-
but have a weak market. The government
rupt, and patriotic like you. We hope God
doesn’t help them grow agriculture, and
gives us another leader like you.
greedy dealers exploit them. We have pa-
tronage and tribalism in politics. We elect
inept leaders that jeopardize national pros-
perity because people aren’t politically ed-
ucated.

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12 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
 FLASH FICTION

THE CRAYON
FAMILY
Taiwo Adewuyi
Nigeria

I hear someone’s footsteps outside the “It is time for breakfast,” Mrs Abigail
door before the door opens. From the says.
assault of disinfectant on my nose, I
Can’t she see that they brought food?
know it is Mrs. Abigail, our cleaner.
This is supposed to be a picnic. And I
“What are you doing?” she asks. Some- want to enjoy this day. It is after all, the
thing metallic moans on the floor as she only time my family gathers to cele-
drags it. brate my birthday.
“Visiting my family,” I whisper rudely, “His head is not on his neck and you
as if she doesn’t know today is the day have yourself three hands,” the cleaner
my family visits or I visit them as the sighs.
case may be.
I don’t blame her. It is my fault. I have
She has to take a few steps before she never seen my family before and I have
sees them. never seen myself before. Neither can I
see what I am painting.
“Oh, I didn’t know,” she apologizes.
“Good morning sir.” My imagination falls apart. But I keep
the cardboard on the bed to eat break-
My father waves his hand and says good
fast.
morning in a silent voice. My moth-
er sits under the big tree in the room, Then I realize that Mrs Abigail and the
dressed in a gown. Her eyes are staring bed are gone too.
at me unblinking but full of love. My
I live under the bridge with a senile
younger brother is holding her hand. I
woman.
don’t know yet whether he should wear
clothes or not. But he seems happy to
be enjoying the evening breeze.
I wish my paradise was not in an eter-
nal sunset.

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 FLASH FICTION

GATHERING
RELICS
Umaru Jennifer
Nigeria

I flitted around preparing for my sur- The abrupt display of mirth confused
prise birthday/engagement party. My me, I was still confused when he said;
boyfriend of two years was going to
“Don’t be long oh, return quickly so
propose. I was floating to the sky from
that you can help Mummy with dinner.
the pleasure, but a bleak shroud of grief
You know she’s heavily pregnant and
held me down. My reflection in the mir-
Baby Pat won’t let her rest.”
ror testified that I looked gorgeous in
my red flowery gown. The last time my mother was preg-
nant was fourteen years ago. And Baby
“Achile, come say happy birthday to
Pat no longer existed. I picked up this
your sister,” Mummy announced.
memory and wrapped it in my heart.
Achile ambled into the room with a
It joined the stash of memories I had
glassy stare fixed on me. The looniness
compiled over the years. I wondered
in his eyes slowly faded and the years
if he also had gatherings. If he saved
became real. I rushed to his side and
the moment when I massaged his back
held his arm. “So, you are turning 22
and he confessed that I was his favorite
today?” he smiled with intense eyes
sister. Did he remember how Baby Pat
that looked over my body. Gladness for
had died in the accident that took his
being remembered filled my heart. The
memory? Were all these lucid moments
best birthday present ever.
gatherings of memories that would
“You became a woman,” he added as never be fondled by him?
he brought his eyes to my face. “Yes,
brother. I am getting married soon.”
His eyebrows twitched as he laughed.

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15 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
Creative Spotlight
- Maame Efua Eshun

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 16

 CREATIVE SPOTLIGHT

In this edition of the Writers Space routine that I can follow to get things
Africa magazine, I had a chat with the done and also keep track of what I’ve
founder of Golden Quill Editing Solu- been up to.
tions and the current coordinator of
Writers Space Africa-Ghana, Maame Also, being disciplined counts. Now
Efua Eshun. Join me as we discuss her that I’m done with school and have
writing and editing journey. a little bit more time on my hands,
I’m learning to discipline myself and
distribute my energy across board so
no area or task is left lagging. It’s not
PPBlessing: Could you briefly intro- easy, but I’m doing my best.
duce yourself
PPBlessing: That’s wonderful. How
Efua: I am Maame Efua Eshun, but ev- did you get into writing?
eryone calls me Efua. I’m a writer and
editor at Golden Quill Editing Solu- Efua: My writing journey started when
tions. I’m currently the coordinator I joined Writers Space Africa-Ghana
for Writers Space Africa-Ghana and (WSA-G) sometime around 2019. A
Assistant Communications Manager friend of mine—Phyl—whose poems
at Ghana Food Movement. I’m intro- I used to proofread, introduced me to
verted and extroverted, depending WSA-G in that year. I started out with
on my environment and the people poems, very whack poems, and some
around me. I love to read whenever I of the critiques I got broke my heart
can and have a passion for art as well. to pieces, in fact, to powder! But they
were all for my good and I got better
PPBlessing: How have you been able with time and more practice. I was also
to combine doing all of these things? introduced to other genres and fell in
love with Creative Nonfiction (CNF)
Efua: Honestly, it hasn’t been easy. It
so I chose that and poetry to special-
was even worse when I was editing for
ise in. But currently, I write more CNF
WSA, editing for my business, work-
than poetry. I think I’ll just stick to the
ing part-time, and schooling at the
former, but time will tell.
same time. But one thing that helped
me and still helps is always creating PPBlessing: Will you recommend
a to-do list of things I want to do in joining such writing communities to
a day (at least 5 things) and trying others?
my best to finish them by the end of
the day. That gives me some kind of Efua: Absolutely! I can say for a fact

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 17

CREATIVE SPOTLIGHT

that I wouldn’t have become as good ly, and I got better and better. In 2020,
a writer as I am now if I had learnt I started thinking of business names,
everything on my own. The critiques, it wasn’t easy, surprisingly, but I end-
other people sharing their works, ed up with Golden Quill Editing Solu-
workshops, and lectures etc. inspire tions. Golden because I believe there’s
and shape the writer and I highly power in my fingers which flows to
recommend such communities, espe- my pen/keyboard and makes things
cially for amateur writers. Aside from better... Quill to signify a writing tool,
learning, joining WSA really widened necessary for manual editing...Edit-
my network. I’ve gotten to virtually ing to show people what the business
encounter a lot of cool people I prob- does or is about... and Solutions be-
ably wouldn’t have met if I hadn’t cause I have the solutions to your ed-
joined. It’s like an online family on its iting problems!
own and I thank God always for plant-
ing me in there! I started monetising my editing some-
where late 2021 and set up social me-
PPBlessing: Have you always wanted dia accounts for it and all. And in May
to start your own editorial business? this year, I registered the business of-
ficially. Over the years, I have been
Efua: Funny enough, it wasn’t my able to put some systems in place that
goal when I started. I didn’t even think make it easy to deal with customers
about it. I started with editing my and also give them a good experience.
friend’s poems every now and then, I’m still learning and I believe it can
and after I joined WSA-G and then only get better with time.
WSA main later, I could easily spot
errors in the works some of the other PPBlessing: So apt! What has been
writers shared, so I’d say it came to me the most challenging work you’ve
easily. Fast forward, I ended up edit- had to edit so far?
ing PenBoss’s articles and screenplays
almost every week before he shared Efua: I can’t mention any one work
them. That put me in the spotlight but there have been a few works that
during my early days and more peo- gave me migraines! There have been a
ple in WSA got to know about me and few occasions where I had to stop ed-
some came to me for editing which iting, sleep, and go back to the work
I did for free. I then realised that it’s later before I could figure out what the
something I could monetize. So, I took writer was trying to say. This is very
it seriously, took a few online courses, important because an editor must nev-
read a lot and practice more frequent-

18 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 CREATIVE SPOTLIGHT

er touch the original meaning of some- books, specifically Creative Nonfiction

one’s work. Yours is to correct it, make that give people a glimpse into my life
it better, not change the story or tell it but also give them the opportunity to
your way. So, I take my time with such enjoy creative storytelling.
‘challenging’ works, because though
PPBlesing: How about poetry?
the writer’s English may sometimes
be very rusty, I always want a smile
Efua: I don’t know if I’d go back to
to appear on their face after they see
poetry, but it’s quite unlikely, to be
what I did with their work. honest. I feel like it takes more work
to write poetry than Creative Nonfic-
PPBlessing: What are some pointers
tion. I love poems and all the poets out
you can share with someone getting
there, but this is how I feel, no offense,
into the editing business?
haha.
Efua: Reading wide does the trick
PPBlessing: I take no offense on their
baby! Read wide, whenever you can.
behalf. How has being a former edi-
It does wonders for an editor. And
tor with WSA magazine contributed
research a lot. Learn the intricacies
to Golden Quill?
of the English language, or which-
ever language you choose to edit in, Efua: Two things: it has added to my
so you can make corrections from an experience and enriched my practice.
informed position. And when you I edited the creative nonfiction genre
feel you’re ready to monetise it, don’t of the WSA for 2 years, and I must say
relent, because editing takes a lot of it was a good experience for me, you
time and energy and can be draining, know, working with other editors,
so why not be compensated for it? Be- learning to work within stipulated
sides, writers will never go extinct, as timelines, meeting deadlines, etc. All
such editors will always be in need. So of these things gave me a rich expe-
monetise it when you can. Go for the rience, and by editing these entries
mula! every month, I got the opportunity to
sharpen my ‘editing eyes’ and my at-
PPBlessing: As a writer, what exact-
tention to detail. Even learning to bal-
ly, do you want to achieve with your
ance editing for the magazine every
writing?
month while doing my school work
Efua: I haven’t really put much (since I was still in school at the time)
thought into that, but first, I’d like to was a different kind of training on its
get better, and then in the very near own, and I’d say it’s been a worth-
future, I’d like to publish at least two while experience.
WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 19
CREATIVE SPOTLIGHT

PPBlessing: Do you have mentors? fice Administrator (I still do that in

addition to the communications). It’s
Efua: As far as editing is concerned, I a fairly young food/agri organisation
used to look up to Namwanja Marga- that’s already making waves in the
ret Chukwabi of blessed memory. She industry! By working there, I got the
owned Rosebud Editing in Zambia. opportunity to practice what I stud-
She was elated when I told her about ied in school, so everything commu-
my first paid editing gig and later nication and other things on the side.
about my desire to set up my own ed- Through this work, I also learnt that
iting business. She encouraged me and life on the field or on the job is very
was willing to help me find my feet, different from school and that not ev-
only for death to do what it does best. erything you learn in school would be
Her death really broke my heart and I needed on the job. But, thanks to my
still haven’t come to terms with it, but boss, Lydia Amenyaglo, and the cool
I know she’d be impressed with the and accommodating work environ-
progress I’ve made so far with Golden ment at Ghana Food Movement, I’ve
Quill Editing Solutions. But for now, been able to adjust and thrive. I’ve
one person closest to a mentor, who been there a little over two years and
likes to call himself my cheerleader is I’m glad I grabbed the opportunity to
Yaw Antwi Owusu. He’s been amaz- work there when it presented itself.
ing... always cheering me on even
when I make the least achievement, PPBlessing: Why did you choose to
and encouraging me to be my best at work with a food company?
all times.
Efua: Because I like food. Also, it’s
PPBlessing: How has your course of called Ghana Food Movement be-
study contributed to the work you do cause we’re a network of food and ag-
for Ghana Food Movement? riculture enthusiasts drawing positive
attention to Ghana’s food system and
Efua: Quick fun fact, I got my job highlighting its potential.
at Ghana Food Movement through
WSA-G, but more on that later. I didn’t say no to working there be-
cause due to the program I read in
I read BA Communication Studies school, I’m able to work anywhere,
(Public Relations major) in school and granted I can put my skills and knowl-
I work part-time as the assistant to the edge acquired to use.
Communications Manager of Ghana
Food Movement. I started as an Of- PPblessing: That’s wonderful. What

20 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

have you learnt about the food in- ers, program outlines, etc. from the
dustry so far with your role and are time we reached out to them for the
there lapses that can be improved? workshop till they delivered. Abdal-
lah Smith was one of the facilitators
Efua: One most important thing I’ve who also happened to be a co-direc-
learnt is that Ghana has the power to tor of the Ghana Food Movement.
feed itself without having to spend bil- He mentioned that he was impressed
lions on food importation... money we with how I was keeping the facili-
could use for other important things. tators abreast with the preparations
We have arable lands, we have good and whatnot and that he was part of
weather, we have several indigenous an organisation that needed someone
ingredients that are nutritious as well, to do just that with their management
and we have the human resources to meetings, etc. so if I was interested...
do the job, i.e. tilling the land and de- and here we are today. Best decision I
veloping technologies for agriculture. made in my young adult life!
All we have to do is focus on support-
ing ourselves, hone our abilities, devel- PPBlessing: What do you do for lei-
op a taste for locally made products, sure?
and support local businesses, among
other things and then we’ll be on our Efua: Sleeping and reading! I do either
way to self-sustenance as far as food of them depending on my mood.
and agriculture is concerned. And that
PPBlessing: What are some of the
is what Ghana Food Movement is all
things you’d like to achieve as an ed-
about, drawing people’s attention to
itor?
issues like these and making use of
the opportunities in the food and agri Efua: It’s my dream to edit Chimam-
industry. anda Ngozie Adiechie’s novel some-
day, or one of these other well-known
PPBlessing: That’s commendable.
writers, at least, but Chimamanda,
Tell us about how WSA-G brought
preferably. I’d also want to get to a
you the opportunity.
stage where I can employ other editors
Efua: Some time ago, WSA-G organ- to work with me, even if on a freelance
ised a series of workshops and I had basis, and also help several writers to
to coordinate it—and I wasn’t even achieve their publishing dreams.
the country coordinator then—espe-
PPBlessing: That’s awesome. We
cially with communicating details of
look forward to that. Are there peo-
the workshops to the various facili-
ple you’ve mentored or currently
tators, keeping them updated on any
mentoring?
developments, sending them remind-
21 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
Efua: Uhm, no, at least not strictly in PPBlessing: Which book among
the sense of the word. There are a few those you’ve read or edited has had a
people I advise, encourage, and in- lasting impact on you?
spire in what they do, but I wouldn’t
call that mentoring. So no, none yet. Efua: Yaa Gyasi’s Homegoing. That
book made me want to know about my
PPBlessing: Who are your top 3 fa- family tree or line so badly. It made me
vorite authors of all time and why? wonder how my great great great great
grandmother looked like, did she have
Efua: to deal with slavery? Was her husband
or children taken away on slave ships?
1. Chimamanda Ngozie Adiechie
How was life back then, etc? I thought
2. Yaa Gyasi about these things for days after I read
the book and still do sometimes. If any
3. Chinua Achebe. book that leaves you thinking about it
for days on end is not excellent, then
Why? These three have some power- I don’t know what it is! It made me
ful minds and words! I’d choose their think of the slave trade and the colo-
books over movies any day! nial times a little differently. In short,
I really enjoyed that book. I may read
PPBlessing: If you hadn’t gotten in-
it a second time when I get the chance.
volved in writing or editing, what
field would you have been in? PPBlessing: If you had a chance to
change anything about your writing
Efua: The arts or tech industry, maybe.
and editing journey, what would it
The former because it’s a natural tal-
be?
ent that I could hone and make good
use of, and the latter because I have a Efua: I would have started doing them
little interest in it and I think I could earlier than I did!
excel if I ventured into it.
Thank you for reading through to the
PPBlessing: When you said you have end, I hope you’ve been inspired to
a passion for arts, what exactly do pursue your dreams in writing, edit-
you mean? ing, or any other field you are interest-
ed in.
Efua: I’m naturally talented when it
comes to art: drawing and painting.
I like how art is able to soothe one’s
mind, even just by looking at a piece
of art. Everything about art excites
me, basically.
22 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
23 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
POETRY

PHILETAIRUS’
NEST
Bongani Zungu
South Africa

Layard, Cuckoo, Quelea’s Widows

You treacherous thief at the tip

of tails and twigs, twisting thy
thorny troubling fangs; a feast.
A nest’s cling wails with the wind.

Yet yesterday, at the far end of

oily palms, soft as a sponge of
neverending holes, was a closely
weaved complex of red-billed wings.
All her rostra hang and halt all
hail’s tumultuous clouds.

Should socius’ repaired pairs ever

descend vertically toward cucullatus’
circular chambers, hers of portioned
walls of bladed glass tenderly balanced
near gregarious haystacks of dry
cocoons.

Yet yesterday, one knew what they felt

when they settled for the night;
growing and singing of sympathy
through the toilsome decades.

24 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 POETRY

THE
HOMESTEAD
Marial Awendit
South Sudan

We gathered behind the herd of calves,

Separated from their mothers.
The green grass licked with dewy leaves
Our skins.
Thick stripes of dew dripped down
My legs,
I mused several mornings
Gathered together their dew.

We drove the calves far into the green trees,

Where they cannot sneak back to eat
Groundnuts and cowpeas from the fields.

I sang jokey songs

With the boys of my herd, but I recall
You were the one we escaped from them,
To dig up from wet soil
Baboon’s onions & wild roots.

Eight years now, I have not seen you.

Last year, I returned to the homestead
Where we played in the light
Of the full moon.
One half of the broken bowl of clay
Held the memories of rains.
The two shea butter trees we climbed
Stand dry & leafless.

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 POETRY

A MURDER
OF CROWS
Elias Denen Dodo
Nigeria

Like seasons holding time,

like branches collecting leaves,
I’ve called you here like shadows
where darkness teases lights,
I’ve called you here like vultures
where mortis defeats life,
I’ve called you here to nectar
like bees acquiesce to queen.

I bid you like the joining

where wispy winds embrace,
the chaos of the congress
when waves relive their tales;
the ramblings of the waters,
the gurgling of wet throats,
as seas divulge in confidence
the wonders they have towed.

Come, birds of likened feathers,

sons spread like sower’s seeds,
come, daughter of my mother
to the breasts that you did feed,
come back to grease the fulcrum
from whence your fate was spun,
congregation of wanderers,
a homecoming of crows.

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 POETRY

IMPOSED
NUPTIALS
Matrida Phiri
Zambia

Their hunch-backed, pot-bellied forms slither across the brown grass

The village elders stealthily approaching my father’s yard at his behest
A pack of indolent sly foxes, ready to harvest where they did not sow
Bouncing on feet as if padded with cotton wool and garbed in rubber
Faces set in that primitive egotistical expression that worships the self
They come ready to negotiate my bride-price as though I were a goat.

A hideously sinister assembly which apes the coiled black mamba

Encircling the repulsive calabash of over-fermented illegal alcoholic brew
They intend to pronounce over my life an unmerited lifetime sentence
A cold inhuman instrument of unfairness meted out without compassion
To handcuff me to the most affluent of the village in a matrimonial jail.

And when he appears, all sorts of hellish things lift their heads within me
The chosen one, older even than the elders, his bald head shining like the moon
Sinister in appearance and strange in the ways of men, he commands respect
There descends an ethereal and sudden hush over the dreadful circle of old men
The invisible pedestal upon which this ancient being has been placed is lofty
A throne so high, it reaches and merges with spiritual wickedness above the sky.

The covenant gourd is passed over to the chosen one with traditional flourish
Moon-head flaunts then stuffs disgusting ill-begotten bank notes into the calabash
Kneeling before the monster, my father receives the spoils, grinning like a buffoon
The dreadful deed accomplished, loud invisible chimes resound, sealing my fate
Fragments of my dream to be a lawyer drop like dry petals from my defeated grip.

27 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 POETRY

BEES AT
NIGHT
Sarah Frost
South Africa

The bee man removes bees at night

when they’re home from foraging.
Dark is a hive filled with sleeping bees,
carried unawares through the streets,
as bats’ echoes locate between trees,
and children are sent to bed to dream.

Father, please take the bees in my head,

and put them where they cannot sting me.
I want rose petal thoughts, unfurling soft
as the dove confessing his love from the branch,
not these guilty questions with no answers,
that steal my nectar and flit away.

The beekeeper brings his fragrant smoke,

drugs the drones unconscious.
So careful, he carries the fecund queen,
brooding ruler, who must not be harmed,
and her courtiers, their spears laid down.
As if caught in honeycomb, I wait for absolution,
the absence of bees, such sweet taboo.

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 28

PoeticAfrica is Africa's first trilingual poetry maga-
zine published quarterly. The magazine showcases
rich and diverse poetry in English, Kiswahili, and
French from all over Africa to the world.

29 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 SHORT STORIES

WELCOME HOME
STRANGER
Adedolapo Grillo
Nigeria
editor’s choice

I am like a stranger, relegated to the back- and my peers —when I was just a boy of
ground in my home as I watch the festival fifteen. I scanned the area for my wife and
preparations from my vantage point on kids, but I couldn’t find them. They’d fol-
my late father’s balcony. Women crowd- lowed my sister to the market.
ed in groups around several fires, cooking
“Is that you, Dolapo?” The voice drew
different meals, while the men slaughtered
me from my thoughts. There they were—
the animals for the ceremony. The children
Dayo, Gbenga, Yinka, and Ibukun. I’d not
chased each other around playfully. The
seen them in thirty-two years. Nostalgia
whole town was celebrating, and I smiled
hit me like a water wave.
as I watched. I remember celebrating this
festival some thirty-two years ago—me “Yes, it is me. I am coming.” As I trudged
WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 30
 SHORT STORIES

down the stairs, I remembered the time I and very old now. Fathia is in charge of the
left and the promise we made to ourselves. shop, selling beer and pepper soup. You
I never kept it. I have been running for will like what she’s done with the place.”
thirty years. I shivered in anticipation of
“Now that I think about it, she liked you
my reception as I walked up to them.
once. So, we might get a discount.” We all
“Welcome home.” Yinka’s high-pitched laughed at Ibukun’s joke. It was the ice-
voice brought back sweet memories. He breaker we needed. For the first time since
gave me a hug that squeezed my ribs so meeting my friends, I relaxed. We rem-
hard that I grimaced in pain. inisced as we trudged the small path to
Mama Fathia’s parlour, pointing at houses
“Yes, the prodigal has finally returned.”
and telling tales of the old days.
The tone of the voice was harsh.
“Wait, is that not Iya Agba’s house?” I
“Ibukun, not now!” Yinka restrained him.
singled out an old thatched-roof hut sur-
I could hear the plea in his voice.
rounded by tall trees. The compound was
Ibukun forced a smile. “Welcome home, abandoned, and the weeds claimed every
Dolapo.” He stretched out his hand, and space they could find, even the windows
I shook it. It was not a warm handshake, and doors.
but at least it betrayed some emotions, and
“Yes, it is. She died some months after you
for that I was grateful. I took turns greet-
left.”
ing the others, awkward as the entire ritual
was. “Ahhh, what a woman!” I said wistfully. I
remembered how Iya Agba would gather
“Do you take beer?” Dayo asked me in a
children in her compound in the evening,
manner that reflected his disappointment
give each of us a piece of dried fish, and
at not knowing whether I drank or not.
tell stories of the past. She was the old-
“I do,” I answered. est in the community at the time and was
well respected. “But how could this place
“Haa… Let’s go to the parlour and... talk.”
be left like this? What about her children?
“But the festival?” Don’t they visit?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. We will still “They came home when she died. They’ve
make it in time for the grand finale,” Gben- not been here since. At least, that’s what
ga replied. “The beer parlour is not far my mother tells me whenever I ask.”
from here. You remember Mama Fathia’s
I looked at Yinka incredulously. “What do
palm wine shop?”
you mean, ask? You should know since
Startled by the question, I answered, “She’s you live here.”
still alive?”.
He stared at me hotly, a look they all
He laughed. “Yes, she is. But she’s retired shared. Suddenly, I felt foolish. “Did you

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think you were the only one of us who left? “We will drink for free today.” The cheers
We all left for school and now work. But were deafening. Even Fathia couldn’t re-
we come back every year.” strain a laugh. “It’s only for today,” she
said, eyeing me. “Because Dolapo has
“That was the promise we made to each
come home.”
other or did you forget?” Ibukun jibed.
After everyone had settled down, Gbenga
“I didn’t” I protested weakly. “I am sorry.”
asked me the question they’d been mean-
We’d stopped walking at this point.
ing to ask: “Why? Why didn’t you return
“Sorry?” Gbenga asked. “You didn’t even as you promised? As we promised! Every
come home for your father’s funeral—your year, we would all come together to cele-
father!” he barked out the words. brate our friendship. It was your idea for
us to gather like that. But every year, you
“You wouldn’t understand...”
were nowhere to be found. Even when
“Try us.” Yinka folded his arms as he an- your dad died. Why, Dolapo?”
swered. I couldn’t speak. I just stared at
“He told me never to come back, even if I
the floor. “No answer?” He hissed and
heard he died.”
walked away. The rest of us followed him
in silence until we got to the bar. Though “Your dad?”
the parlour wasn’t far from my house, it
“Yes, my dad.” I downed my beer. “You
felt like we’d been walking for hours. I was
all remember Baba Fagbenro, my uncle?”
tired.
They nodded. “Well, I don’t know if you
The bar was so different from what I re- know this, but he died the same year I left.
membered. It was modern and cleaner. We Customarily, the family oracle needed a
sat down at a corner table and placed our replacement, and I was chosen. My father
orders—beer and beef pepper soup. While refused. He believed in education and was
waiting for our food, Fathia came to our wealthy enough to send me to the univer-
table and playfully bantered with my com- sity.”
panions. She froze in astonishment when
“To send all of us... Any child who wanted
she noticed me. She looked back at my
to further their education, he sponsored.”
friends, and a realization hit her. All of a
Dayo sighed as he spoke. “Your father was
sudden, she drew me into a tight hug.
a great man.”
“You came.” She said without releasing
“He was. My greatest regret is that I couldn’t
me from her embrace. She studied me
be by his side when he breathed his last.”
for a few minutes. “You look well. That’s
I wiped off the tears that threatened to fall
good.” The waiter came back with our or-
from my eyes and continued my story. “I
der. “Serve them everything they want. It’s
also didn’t want to be a priest. My father’s
on the house.”
refusal caused a serious rift in the family,
“I said it!” Ibukun shouted triumphantly. which led to threats. Life-threatening ones.

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In fear, my father sent me secretly to his ship, and the community. So, promise us
friend in Ibadan with a letter. He instruct- that this won’t be your last visit.”
ed his friend to send me abroad to further
“I promise.” As I said those words, I heaved
my education. Before I left, he gave me a
a sigh of relief. I was home again, a boy of
warning. That I must not come back home,
fifteen running around with my friends. I
no matter what. He said if I was to come
had been haunted and had lived my entire
home, several years must have passed. He
life afraid of my shadow. But for the first
died four years later, as you know.”
time in thirty-two years, I felt free.
“Why didn’t you tell us all this before you
The festival was almost done when we got
left?” Yinka said.
back. People were eating and drinking.
“I wanted to, but I couldn’t. My father Some were dancing to the music blaring
swore me to secrecy. I missed everyone— from the speakers. I saw my kids with oth-
all of you. But I couldn’t come home. I got er children, running around like I once did.
married in the US. My wife and kids are Just then, a loud gong sounded and halt-
here with me. I would love you all to meet ed all activities. Everyone—old or young,
them.” man or woman, rich or poor—gathered
together, forming a circle. A small, bald
“We will love that too,” Yinka replied.
man walked into the centre and knelt. We
“So am I forgiven?” all did the same. And he prayed blessings
upon the community for the next year.
“If you will always come home. We love to
come and celebrate ourselves, our friend-

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 33

 SHORT STORIES

UNDER THE VEIL

OF DARKNESS
Chitsanzo Changa
Malawi

A colossal, ominous cloud loomed above uation. In a sudden, heart-stopping mo-

Duka village. A foreboding presence that ment, a small section of the cloud began
sent shivers down the spines of its inhab- to part. Fear gripped him, and he instinc-
itants. Flashes of lightning danced within tively wanted to flee, yet his legs refused
its depths, and its eerie hum filled the air to obey.
as it slowly descended upon the village.
Two humanoid figures emerged from the
Panic seized the villagers, who scurried
cloud, walking in perfect synchrony. Clad
into the safety of their huts. Darkness de-
in kilts and coats fashioned from what
scended upon the entire village, despite it
appeared to be animal hide and adorned
being well past midday, as the cloud set-
with peculiar creature-shaped necklaces,
tled over the communal playfield.
they wielded staffs in their right hands and
Inside his hut, the village chief cowered in shields in their left. Thick, black hair cas-
silence with his wife and three children. caded from their heads, and their bodies
editor’s choice

However, his sense of duty eventually exuded strength and vitality. Their eyes,
overcame his fear, and he ventured outside obscured by swirling, circular flames, held
to investigate the strange phenomenon, an otherworldly allure. Their feet seemed
despite his family’s protests. The village to meld with the cloud’s surface, adding to
was shrouded in an eerie hush as he made their ethereal presence.
his way to the playfield, with curious eyes
Identifying themselves as messengers
peeking through their hut’s windows.
from the gods, they spoke in deep, echoing
Arriving at the playfield, the chief stood voices, each word accompanied by a small
at a cautious distance from the colossal flame that flickered from their mouths.
cloud, unsure of his next move. His mind They instructed the chief to gather all the
raced for a plan, but he found himself villagers for an important message, warn-
overwhelmed by the magnitude of the sit- ing of dire consequences for those who re-

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 SHORT STORIES

fused to attend. Reluctantly, the chief re- After a quarter of the villagers had entered
turned to the huts, instructing his fellow the portal, no one else moved. The messen-
villagers to assemble at the playfield. Fear gers inquired again, but there was no re-
and trepidation spread through the com- sponse. A few more brave souls ventured
munity as they reluctantly complied. in before the messengers closed the portal
with a mere raise of a staff-bearing hand.
With the entire village gathered, the mes-
The messengers commended those who
sengers began to speak in unison, as
chose selflessness and sacrifice, sparing
though their words had been rehearsed for
them as the righteous. They announced
millennia. They conveyed the gods’ wrath
their intention to establish a new village
at the villagers’ waywardness, listing their
founded on principles of humanity and
sins and emphasizing the need for hu-
virtue.
man sacrifice to appease the divine anger.
Those willing to sacrifice themselves were In the blink of an eye, panic spread among
called upon to step forward, and the mes- the remaining villagers, and they rushed
sengers made it clear that without enough toward the portal, desperate to gain en-
volunteers, the entire village would be try. Yet, an invisible force repelled their
consumed by a devastating fire. efforts. Desperation and hopelessness
overwhelmed them as the messengers
Intrigued and fearful, the villagers ex-
now turned away, entered the cloud por-
changed puzzled glances. Then, an elderly
tal from whence they came. The portal was
woman took a determined step towards
sealed shut, and the dark cloud ascended
the portal created by the messenger’s staff.
into the sky.
Her family tried to dissuade her, but she
pressed on, pausing at the threshold to The villagers left behind watched in de-
wave at her loved ones before disappear- spair as a colossal fireball erupted from
ing into the darkness. A spine-chilling beneath the cloud, consuming them in a
scream pierced the air, followed by an ee- blaze of unforgiving fury.
rie silence, as if she had been swallowed by
an abyss. Panic and sorrow engulfed the
villagers as they watched in horror.

The messengers remained impassive, their

expressions unchanged. Eventually, the
chief, along with his wife and children,
walked toward the portal, attempting to
persuade others to stay back. Yet, they too
entered willingly. Soon, more villagers fol-
lowed suit, and in the chaos, families were
torn apart.

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 SHORT STORIES

FORBIDDEN
FRUIT
Ogooluwa Jayeola
Nigeria

The allure of forbidden love is captivating wrapped around her chest, another grace-
and intoxicating, weaving its enchantment fully adorning her waist, cascading down
editor’s choice

until complete immersion is inevitable. to her knees. With an exposed flat stomach,
Such was the fate of Oyin as she stealth- her waist was embellished with vibrant
ily ventured out of her home in the dead strings of colourful beads. Simple braided
of night, her heart racing and her mind hair elegantly framed her face, reaching
pounding. the base of her neck, further accentuating
her exquisite features. Her destination was
Oyin, whose full name was Oyinkansola,
the Osun River, the primary water source
hailed from a lineage of Adeola, the es-
for the entire village.
teemed village blacksmith, and Abike, a
skilled basket weaver. Renowned for her As Oyin’s heart pounded, a radiant smile
captivating dance skills and striking beau- illuminated her face, reminiscing about his
ty, she possessed a slender waist, shape- words from earlier that day, “Meet me by
ly hips, and a captivating dark complex- the riverside tonight at sunset.” She fer-
ion. Her attire consisted of an Aso-Oke vently hoped he was still waiting, rather

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 SHORT STORIES

than having departed. She inwardly cursed remained uninterested until she noticed
her brother, whose late-night wakefulness him. His aloofness from the crowd caught
had delayed her and jeopardized their ren- her attention, and she couldn’t help but
dezvous. notice that his gaze towards her was pure
and devoid of lust, a refreshing departure
Upon reaching the riverside, her heart flut-
from the stares she had encountered that
tered with delight upon setting her eyes
day. Initiating a conversation with him
on his sturdy back. Akinjobi, her beloved,
marked the beginning of their deepening
stood there. He was the son of Bayo, a for-
bond. Upon discovering their connection,
midable warrior in the village who had
her parents warned her to distance herself,
succumbed to madness during a conflict
but these admonishments only fueled her
with a neighbouring village, allegedly due
affection for him.
to the opposing village’s herbalist
To evade her parents’ watchful eyes and
Akinjobi had come into the world short-
the prying gazes of the village, he softly
ly after his father’s descent into madness,
instructed her during their encounter in
growing up without a conventional pater-
the marketplace earlier that day to rendez-
nal figure. This unfortunate circumstance
vous with him at the riverside. The mere
bestowed upon him a stigma within the
thought filled her heart with exhilaration,
village. Nonetheless, Akinjobi’s unwaver-
solidifying her realization that she loved
ing determination and strength propelled
him. Upon sighting him by the riverside,
him to become a renowned warrior. De-
she rushed towards him, her hurried foot-
spite this, most individuals avoided him
steps causing him to turn towards her just
due to his father’s condition, believing that
as she leapt into his embrace. In the moonlit
the herbalist’s curse would inevitably be-
glow, they stood entwined as if attempting
fall him as well.
to merge their souls. They began to sway
However, Oyin refused to distance her- gently to an invisible rhythm, a rhythm
self from him. On the contrary, she cher- that only they could hear—the rhythm of
ished him even more, admiring his valour their love.
and tenacity in pursuing his aspirations
“I missed you,” she softly spoke.
despite the village’s judgment. Their re-
lationship had commenced several nights “As did I,” he replied.
prior during the village gathering, follow-
They then found solace by the riverside,
ing Oyin’s captivating dance performance
accompanied by one another throughout
in celebration of her coming-of-age cere-
the night, their forbidden love ensnaring
mony, symbolizing her readiness for mar-
them deeper and deeper within its intri-
riage.
cate web.
Numerous young men within the village
sought Oyin’s hand in marriage, yet she

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 37

 SHORT STORIES

WRONG
MOVE
Joshua Laryea
Ghana
editor’s choice

Today, East Ridge High’s senior and ju- or triple if they lost.
nior students are about to engage in a
Myself and two other boys were the only
football showdown. They have been pre-
ones who hadn’t contributed to the bet
paring for this event since the start of the
money. I understand why a lot of them
term, and it is their last match as students
paid the money; this is how teenage boys
of the school. The juniors’ best players will
amuse themselves, spending their parents’
graduate soon, but the stakes for this game
hard-earned money in a vain effort to ap-
are higher than ever—the year twos, un-
pear cool in front of each other. This time,
officially acting on behalf of the juniors,
I was dragged into it, no matter how much
challenged the seniors with a bet. The year
I tried to stay on the sidelines. Jacob, a
twos collected fifty cedis from their class-
friend, asked me for some cash so he could
mates and they wanted the seniors to win
pay his part of the contribution. He was

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 38

 SHORT STORIES

one of the ‘representatives’, so he had to “I heard the seniors have scored oo” one of
chip in more than everyone else. Normally, the students happily informed her friend.
I wouldn’t have given him anything even “How did you know? Have you been to
if he begged me, but this shameless guy the park?” I asked grabbing her by the
blackmailed me with information he had shoulder, my eyelids stretched as wide as
overheard from my conversation with the they could. She, however, answered ‘no’,
math teacher. With that, I finally agreed to rudely sliding my hand off her shoulder,
loan him what he needed - plus some extra saying “I just heard it around”. I didn’t
for interest. know whether to believe it or not. The pre-
fects soon came, and we started our walk
The big day had finally arrived, and I had
to the grounds. I was feeling restless, a ball
to go watch the game to determine if I’d
of nerves knotted in my mind. I prayed
get my money back or remain in debt. I’d
what the girl said was false. I was tempt-
never before been so devoted to a football
ed to run, but I couldn’t be the prefects’
club. Beads of sweat started building on
scapegoat; not during their last days. I had
my forehead as I switched from my uni-
only heard stories, but I prefer that to it be-
form into ordinary clothing. Though the
ing my story.
field was over half an hour away on foot,
this moment, under such pressure, it didn’t On any other day, I would have taken plea-
matter. I must be there. My father would sure in hearing the hawkers shout their
be infuriated to learn that I gambled with slogans like “Yes! Pure water” or “Plantain
the funds instead of giving them to Sir chips!” and watching the children chas-
Isaac as he’d requested. He would also be ing each other with glee. The melodious
mad if he found out I put off repayment by sound of moving cars in the distance and
fabricating financial difficulties and using the loud conversations between shopkeep-
my good conduct and excellent grades as ers full of laughter and political debates
proof. would have soothed me. But today it all
merged together into an unbearable ca-
The path to the field was mostly shaded by
cophony. Even the birds in the sky taking
the trees on the side of the street. The stu-
flight for home before dusk only served to
dents had gathered at the gate and were
remind me that I wouldn’t be able to rest
waiting to be escorted to the field. The
until I saw how the game turned out. If Ja-
headmaster allowed the match to happen
cob hadn’t been around on this fateful day,
because the seniors had pleaded unremit-
I would already be dozing off into a peace-
tingly and were done with their exams.
ful afternoon nap.
The only condition was that the outgoing
sports prefects had to make sure the stu- If only he had been forthcoming and open,
dents didn’t go anywhere but the field and I could have found a way out. We met on
back. I joined the students as we waited for the first day of school, and miraculously
the sports prefects to come back. became shared a bunk bed. He quickly be-

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 39

came the only person I knew since then. My blank but piercing gaze gestured him to
Because I never felt I had anything to keep move closer. On a better day, such mischief
hidden, I divulged much about myself to would have incurred a hefty penalty. I put
him; whereas, he mostly listened without my arm over his shoulders and menacing-
saying much. When I saw him standing ly leaned towards him. With a low voice,
outside the teacher’s office that day, I didn’t I asked, “What were the year-threes dis-
really think of it as an issue - I trusted him cussing?” He replied nervously, “Senior, I
to keep my secrets. It hadn’t occurred to don’t know oo, but Prefect Michael had a
me that blackmail was also an option. very bad expression.” I pushed him away
with a warning that we’d speak again later.
We were about halfway to the football field
We made our way up the two meter grassy
when I noticed a group of senior students
hill and saw crowd of students and players
walking and laughing amongst each oth-
around something on the pitch. The whis-
er. This wasn’t too unusual, as they had
pered commotion was grief-stricken. The
more privileges than us But why were they
Sports prefects ran towards them shouting
leaving? My intrigue peaked. The prefects
about needing a first-aid kit. From this ev-
ahead stopped them and exchanged words
idence, it dawned on me that my money
with them that I couldn’t make out from
was gone.
my vantage point. Eventually, they let the
seniors go, and they went on their way to- We reached the last turn before a two-me-
wards the school. ter climb up a grassy hill and descent to
the sidelines of the field. I had already
I could only make out a few words from
heard enough to convince me I had lost
what the prefects were saying: ‘Dro...’ and
my money. During the descent, I saw a mix
‘Injury’. If it was true, then this would be
of players and students gathered around
disastrous; Drogba being injured. Dro,
something on the pitch. Their unintelligi-
short for Drogba, is the nickname for the
ble whispers, a tune of melancholy. The
captain of the juniors’ team. He is also
Sports prefects run towards the crowd,
one of the best players in the school’s offi-
shouting commands that someone bring
cial team. He was my saving grace on the
the First-aid Kit. More evidence.
team, so if I couldn’t rely on him anymore,
getting money back seemed impossible. I I asked one of my mates, who was about a
thought of inquiring further, but not dar- meter from the crowd, “Charle, what were
ing to due to there being no prior relation- the last scores before Oboy get injury”.
ship between me and them, none that was “What are you saying, the match no start.
positive anyway. Desperately, I stretched Girome go hurt for some bush inside, and
out an arm in an attempt to get one of their the way he dey bleed, them no fit to start”.
attentions. When they recognised it was Ahhh!
me - their senior - the look of annoyance
quickly scrubbed away and replaced with
an apologetic puppy-look.

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 40

 SHORT STORIES

GREEN
MEMORIES
Suhaibu Safiyanu
Nigeria
editor’s choice

That particular Sallah morning at Bagwai evening before.

was the coldest I had ever experienced.
The sight of the compound’s mess made
The chill of the harmattan wind made it
me queasy and I knew I’d have to do a re-
feel like something, or someone was being
sweep by myself since my sister had gone
avenged upon us. The previous night’s
off to style her hair. As I was considering
temperature had dropped to its lowest
what to do next, Abdul and Habu raced up
ever, making even adults dread perform-
to me as if they were chased by a hungry
ing ablution with cold water. Everywhere
dog.
we looked, brown leaves from the neem
tree we had in our compound fluttered “What’s wrong? Why are you people run-
down and littered the ground my sister ning?” I asked, sounding terrified.
and I had just spent time sweeping the
“Dan Safiya (Safiya’s son. Safiya is my

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 41

 SHORT STORIES

aunt and it was reported that she loved me I watched in awe as I stood a safe distance
so much that people began to address me up the embankment, arms tightly clasped
as her son when she was a teen),” Abdul on my chest, teeth clattering involuntarily,
cut in, “we are going to Ramin Tsamiya to and white smoke exuding from my mouth
wash our bodies before the prayer time.” and nostrils as if I were smoking an invis-
He added excitedly. ible cigarette. I was envious of my friends
who gave the impression that they were
“Are you for real? How many are you?” I
enjoying every drop of water they threw
asked, my face brimming with excitement.
at each other.
“We are five. The rest are out there waiting
Kabiru, who was already at the stream
for us.” Answered Habu.
when we arrived, stood there beside his
“All right. Let us go, but be careful lest plastic bucket, and watching in awe too.
Umma hears and spoils everything!” I He then removed his clothes and walked
warned while melting away. nonchalantly to the stream, holding a small
bowl for scooping up water.
“Dan Safiya,” began Habu after all but I
had stripped off at the grass-covered bank Standing on the edge of the stream, he
of Ramin Tsamiya stream, “throw water at bent over, filled the bucket with cold wa-
me and I’ll throw at you.” ter, spun around, took a few decisive steps
behind me and, in a flash, emptied the con-
That was one unique way to take a bite of
tents of the bucket on my head, wetting my
the cold water.
clothes and all.
“I don’t think I can swim, I am catching a
“You coward! Catch me if you can!” Kabi-
cold. You can play with Abdul, the swim-
ru laughed before rushing into the stream
mer.” I suggested, pointing at the latter.
and splashing water all over his body be-
Abdul accepted, and they stepped into the fore anyone could.
water as if they had been asked to dip blis-
I stood there frozen. Shivering. I regret
tered feet into a bowl of iodine.
that had I stayed to sweep our compound,
I would not have accompanied my play-
They began with flinging at each other as mates on such an early morning trip to
many drops of water as one finger could the stream, and Kabiru would not have
carry, then two fingers and soon one palm. poured cold water on my body.
In a short while, each was splashing wa- A cruel, wounded expression was in my
ter on the other with two hands. The initial eyes. I felt a hot throbbing in my chest. In-
shock gave way to an exhilarating experi- stinctively, with a taste of panic, I reached
ence. down, afraid that my toes would be miss-
ing; but they were there - benumbed.

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 42

A wave of anger surged through my body manufacturers’ trademarks. I decided to
when Kabiru jeered at me, sticking out his join them to see how many leaves I could
tongue and pulling down his two low- catch, keeping my playmates’ clothes un-
er eyelids at me. I felt like jumping into der the tree.
the water to dip his head down until he
I discovered that I had not yet recovered
breathed his last, but I was not as brave.
from the cold water experience, so I could
They had more guts than me. So I quietly
not run well. With more steps, a little more
melted away with their clothes.
accomplished like a leper in shoes, I made
I was on my way home when I got drawn my way to the foot of the Iroko tree to en-
to the children running around an Iroko joy the crunchy noise the shrivelled brown
tree, enjoying the fun of attempting to leaves make when you trample on them
catch the yellow leaves shaken off the and to rest and wait for my friends’ arrival,
tree by the harmattan wind before they whose clothes I had taken with me.
touched the ground, and threading them
No sooner I sat than I saw them trudging
together to drag home. While others were
shyly, hiding their tiny genitals with their
decorating their ¹dokin-kara with pieces of
palms. As soon as they saw me, they all
fabrics they gathered from tailors.
ran furiously towards me asking for their
Three boys, apparently not older than me, clothes. And, they, the clothes, like a flash,
were walking majestically, showing off were nowhere to be found!
their new English wear complete with the

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 43

44 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
 WSA Magazine
REVIEW
October 2023 Edition

45 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

MAGAZINE REVIEW

AN IRONY OF
YOUR BODY
A Creative Non-Fiction by Chinenye Favour, Nigeria
Reviewer: Lebogang Faith Samson, Botswana

It’s still hard to acknowledge that cer- Over time, fake smiles here and there
tain aspects of life are beyond us to disguise the pain, and for a second, one
change. It’s not within our powers to gets inured to it, and once in a while,
dictate or command death. After all, a snowball of emotions rolls your way,
it’s a rite of passage, an undeniable fact.
and the heart starts cracking again.
Chinenye Favour, a creative writ-er Chinenye draws our attention to this
from Nigeria, titled her piece “An Irony family who lost their anchor, and it’s
of Your Body,” reflecting on the theme: not easy for the family members, even
“A New Dawn.” When the storm hits, amid neighbours’ consola-tions. Death
we strive to breathe through it. still stands proud, but they are hope-
ful for a new dawn. At some point, the
As we witness the persona in this Cre-
storm has to subside, hence new adjust-
ative Non-Fiction, she struggled with
ments.
coming to terms with the passing on of
her mother. Death is never a friendly The writer uses nameless characters.
visitor to our homestead. It leaves one The mood is very sombre, therefore a
perplexed and paralysed emo-tional- melancholic tone throughout. I must
ly. We do not get used to it no matter applaud Chinenye on this well-written
how much it frequently knocks on our story as it sets out the theme very well;
doors. An Irony of your Body contem- moreover, readers can re-late to all that
plates the distress one undergoes after the persona has narrated.
losing their loved ones, although time
heals; well, one gets used to the idea of
the absent member, but the mark is for-
ever permanent.

46 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

 MAGAZINE REVIEW

GIRLS WHO LOVE LIKE

THERE’S NO TOMORROW
A Flash Fiction by Grace David Ojogbane, Nigeria
Reviewer: Francis Mkwapatira, Malawi

Ojogbane’s story begins with impres- man like there was no tomorrow.” De-
sive imagery of a true healing sunrise, spite the pain, she still sat on the rough-
a therapeutic dose that bandages yes- ly hewn rock, which implies life’s im-
terday’s wounds and prepares men to perfections, hoping to see the risen sun
journey into the present day. The nar- again.
rator lays before the readers a rising
The narrative leaves the reader with an
sun, which, as it emerges slowly above
impression that despite the unpleasant-
the confluence of the Niger and Benue
ness of life, despite the shadows over
Rivers, its rays seem to dance atop the
us, shadows that frighten the hope of
water before Baye, the protagonist. She
ever realising the good that life un-
seems to have gone there for therapy, to
folds before us, it is by no means a call
forget a long-gone lover.
to quit; to stop seeking and hoping for
Even though she had lived in Lokoja be- the best to come our way. The lines,
fore, she never knew her environment “…waiting for the day the sun would
so well. Perhaps, she was so blind-ed by rise again, and she could continue this
love, that none took her focus from her dance of the blind…” depict how much
man, Yebo. It is only now that the imag- strength she draws from the rising of
ery of the rising sun before her removes the sun, the amount of hope she sus-
the scales from her eyes, sitting on a tains, the will to bury her past and long
hewn rock. She sheds tears for the time for a rebound with life, even when it is
lost in loving insensi-tively, as depicted less promising.
in the expression, “She had loved one

WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 47

 MAGAZINE REVIEW

AT DAWN
A Poem by Francis Mkwapatira, Malawi
Reviewer: Akuei M. Adol, South Sudan

In the quiet emergence of dawn, weary of empathy, inviting the au-dience to con-
souls find the strength to embrace new be- template the challenges the weary soul
ginnings, remind-ing us that hope illumi- faces as it emerges into the new day, res-
nates our path even in the darkest hours. onat-ing with the struggles and weariness
This sentiment is brilliantly re-vealed in within us all. Moreover, the poem’s brevi-
Francis Mkwapatira’s poem “At Dawn,” ty intensifies its im-pact, immersing read-
which embarks on a journey through the ers in its meaning.
liminal space between night and day.
The poet’s language is figurative and
Through vivid imagery and profound straightforward, weaving a tapestry of
symbolism, the poet explores the themes emotions ranging from quiet contempla-
of transition and weariness, painting a pic- tion to subtle hope. The poem’s mood is
ture of the sun as a weary soul emerging reflective, its tone contemplative, urging
“over seas and rifts.” The piece delves into readers to confront their own burn-outs
the universal human experience of encoun- and emerge, like the sun at dawn, into a
tering a new day after enduring the dark- new day filled with possibilities.
ness of the night, capturing the essence of
In a nutshell, the poem is a thoughtful
resilience and hope.
meditation on the cyclical nature of life, of-
However, structured as a haiku, the poem fering solace to those burdened by weari-
adheres to the traditional form of three ness. It speaks to the enduring strength of
lines, lending it an aura of ancient wisdom. the human spirit, reminding us that even
Through carefully chosen words, Francis in our most tired moments, we can find
shades a lucid snapshot of the struggle in- the courage to embrace the dawn of a new
herent in every new beginning. be-ginning. Mkwapatira’s work is a testa-
ment to the power of poetry to capture the
In addition, Mkwapatira employs the met-
complexities of human emotion, making
aphor of the sun as a weary soul, infusing
it a timeless piece that will resonate with
the verse with a deep emotional resonance.
readers across generations.
This metaphor conveys an insightful sense

48 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING

49 WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERIING
WSA MAGAZINE | NOVEMBER 2023 EDITION | THEME - THE GATHERING 50
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