The Arts-Muse Fair

Nana Sule is always a writer to look out for. Her works are never anything short of astonishing—quiet storms that linger long after the last word. So the buzz around her debut collection is neither surprising nor misplaced. There are stories that knock gently, and there are those that slip through the cracks. The kind that feel like memories you’re not entirely sure belong to you. Not So Terrible People is of the latter category. A haunting, elegant collection echoing the eerie lullabies of childhood myths, quiet hauntings, and the many things that live just beneath the skin of ordinary life. Nana Sule—writer, journalist, and communications strategist—is no stranger to liminal spaces.  Nana crafts stories that feel familiar yet are imbued with the unexpected.  Her works have been published in Agbowo, Isele, and Arts-Muse Fair. She was the first runner-up for the 2022 Alitfest Prize for Fiction and was longlisted for the 2023 Sevhage Prize for Fiction for her short story, Owan...

(for the sixteen innocent Hausa hunters lynched & mobbed at Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria) “The vigilantes started beating us as we were stepping out of the vehicle. After gathering us in one place, the locals joined in and continued the assault. Eventually, the vigilantes stepped back and allowed the locals to beat us while they stood idle, watching. Realising that we would likely be killed, some of us made a run for our lives—I was one of them. While fleeing, I encountered kind-hearted Hausa people, who gave me some money, which I used to reach the Hausa community leader here.”   —Daily Trust, March 29, 2025 & the hour is upon us again— all sixteen bodies kissed the violence of the  flames, & the wind carries the scent of burning  names. The smoke is still spiralling in the sky,  carrying the messages of its victims, writing their  elegy in soot, in silence, in sorrow. Somewhere,  I imagine angels are singing the Angelus, but  the...

A distinguished scholar, author, poet, researcher, literary critic, essayist and specialist in Dramatic Theory and Criticism, Professor Mabel Itohanosa Evwierhoma almost needs no introduction but her remarkable body of works has always spoken for her. Her immense contributions to Gender Studies in Africa especially in the area of feminist aesthetics and women centred approaches to drama and society, leading to such publications as Nigerian Feminist Theatre: Essays on Female Axes in Contemporary Nigerian Drama (1998), Issues On Gender, Drama and Cultural Studies (2002), Essays and Concepts on Society and Culture (2004)  and with GbemisolaAdeoti, After the Nobel Prize: Reflections on African Literature, Governance and Development (2006),  have made her a household name in any discourse on African Literature. Two of her poetic offerings are Out of Hiding and A Song As I Am.  In chapter One titled “Female Creativity and Woman-centred Ideologies: An Overview”, Evwierhoma’s...

Photo Credit: tender.photo Four photos on a wall. One distant, like an outcast. One drifting, as if a storm cast it out.   Each hangs at an odd angle, their uneven alignment hinting at imperfection, at something unsettled. The gaps between them echo a longing, as if the wall remembers what’s missing.   Once, your wall held photos too—a family portrait, smiles frozen before life scattered you all like cotton flowers across a field. The eldest at graduation, the second-born at a picnic, the third on a holiday, the last-born mid-laughter on his birthday.   You struggle to recall the photo of your parents—the one your mother took down. It reminded her too much of what was, of your father before the cancer hollowed him out.   Now, these four photos make you long for the eight that once filled your wall. Or seven. Or six. Or five. Or, even just four. Even with the spaces in between. Sophiyya EmBee is a poet, writer, and an unrepentant Tea addict. She is the Admin...

I There’s running water where our girl lives. In the sink in the bathroom, she sometimes leaves the tap on, allowing water through her pores, between her fingers, and down the sink, away from her grasp. She has also tried to catch water, on many occasions. To trap it in her palms and keep it there. But it is easier to hold things that matter with open palms than closed fists. There’s a woman that cleans her apartment. Or used to clean her apartment. Shy woman, strong woman, mother to eight kids. She comes from a settlement, some long kilometers away from where our girl lives. On good days, she arrives at her job after an hour of putting one foot before the other. On bad days, well on bad days, she doesn’t make it to work. Our girl loves her either ways. Yet our girl let her go. Tough decision it was, necessary it really was. II The rain became a regular thing for Saratu since the start of August. This was supposed to be the time of the year she enjoyed the most, with her head on Abdul’...