I wonder what you think of how I look at you. How my hands linger when I touch you. I sometimes wish you’ll fall into my hands in total surrender, just like the cashew fruit.

We’ve seen it all, really. Yet, we still fall into the trap of a single story—every single time. We still think that we are either this or that; we can’t be both; we can’t be everything all at once.

The guard whispers to his colleague in a tongue I’m too familiar with, the one whitened with otherness

Why fit in if I lose myself?

The room felt as if the earth had veered off its axis. The fan yet swirled. And Alice’s heart beat erratically in her chest. She had a voice, but she seemed to have lost it.

I walked around the casket and saw Grandma’s distorted body.

There were fat men, enormous men, short men, men with bald heads, men with full beards, and gaunt, ashen men. They all had one thing in common. Seated or standing, they had their legs splayed and were contorted in various stages of pain, their expressions a montage of horrors.

I wonder if I could pray for it, but would God honour a prayer of death? 

Ani Kayode Somtochukwu on his writing

A conversation with Alex Kadiri, 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize shortlist

In this interview, Ayo Awoyungbo talks about writing, his writing process and getting shortlisted for the 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize

Jenny Robson was shortlisted for the 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize. In this interview, she talks about writing and her short story, The Sister-in-law.

Enit’Ayanfe Ayosojumi Akinsanya, shortlisted for the 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize, talks about writing his story story, The Anatomy Of Flying Things

I was a simple child then. Intelligent, but simple. I knew I wasn’t like most boys my age. I didn’t like football, nor did I enjoy fighting. I was called a girl so much I’m surprised it didn’t become a nickname.

Alabi’s face began to take on a malevolent contour, but then he got a grip on himself. The poor boy was not responsible for his problems.

I want them/to break and contort, come alive with a/fire that cannot be quenched

The shortlist for the 2023 Afritondo Short Story Prize

As we celebrate International Women’s Day, we appreciate some of the amazing women we have worked with in the last few years. At Afritondo, we champion the works of African women and will continue to do so.

I think of her eyes, wet, as they bade me goodbye from the neighbourhood we shared for a year. A proximity that had made my night visits possible, spontaneous.

We let silence speak the words our mouth cannot; we let it tell the tales of her pleas and my forgiveness. Mayme might have been my citizenship insurance at first, but now, she is my wife, the woman I love.