You know how they say when you grow up in a burning house, you assume the whole world is on fire? Well, I didn’t grow up in a burning house. Instead, I grew up in a home where we hid the flames. We were all secretly burning inside, but…
My name is Zinhle Ndyike, and I’m from the Vaal Triangle, specifically in Meyerton/Highbury-Henley on Klip. I want to take a moment to share my story in the hope that it reaches those who have ever felt overlooked, belittled, or underestimated. I understand how isolating those feelings can be,…
I vividly recall the awe-inspiring wonder of my early years, when becoming an adult felt like the ultimate goal. I used to watch my parents, aunts, and uncles, convinced they had everything figured out, and I admired them with a mixture of reverence and envy. Life, however, had other…
My name is Godfred Enyan, but I’m popularly known as King Sobada from Ghana. I have a BSc in Administration with a focus on Public Administration from the University of Ghana.
I am a young Ghanaian using music as an advocacy tool to raise awareness about gender equality and women’s…
If you had told me a decade ago that I’d become a voice of creative influence in Uganda—while raising two sons, surviving the chaos of post production, and working on studying human rights law in Japan—I probably would’ve laughed, spilled tea on your shoes, and gone back to sketching…
I have fewer stories hanging on my gullet.
Untold stories of moments we shared,
and the laughter that quaked the room.
This is because I do not write in times of happiness.
I went through my pieces—
they carry grief like an infant,
cradled in my mind to this day.
Darkness overshadowed those moments,
or perhaps I…
I hope you remember
the poem from your birthday.
Let’s set aside my reeking anxiety,
how I failed your audience,
how I couldn’t articulate,
and how shame sought me
with persistence.
What I’m trying to say is—
I hope you remember
how much I valued you,
to the depths where lava is found,
the core of the earth,
the core of…
“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” –
A phrase that clings
like stubborn gum to the back of my pants.
Its presence numbs, its toxicity stains,
leaving me to tremble in a futile struggle.
Fingers wearily try, way too hard, to peel it away,
but others notice the hue from afar,
under their unspoken radar.
I keep…