The Arts-Muse Fair

Poetry first drew me towards Kampala four years ago when my poem ‘ Laruge’ was nominated for the Babishai Niwe African Poetry Prize. I was invited for the prize-giving event but a threat of Marburg virus put paid to the idea. When the opportunity to be in Kampala came again via the AMLA Writing Workshop, I was lucky to be among the academic cohorts chosen for the event. My earliest idea of Uganda was the film (too young to remember the title) portraying Idi Amin Dada, the former dictator of the country. Then in secondary school we were taught the history of the Buganda Kingdom. In University, it was the lyrical poetry of Okot B’Pitek that connected me to Uganda. The shield on the gate of Kabaka's palace  I had wanted to leave from Kano but Ethiopian Airline said I have to board in Abuja. The previous week, I had been travelling around; Sokoto, Maiduguri, then Ilorin. I arrived in Abuja two days before the departure. The journey via Bole airport in Addis Ababa to Ent

So a friend of mine linked me up with a friend of his in Nassarawa state, who himself wanted someone who is into cultural things and entertainment in Niger state. So, we got talking with Yahaya, a Lafia resident in Nassarawa state. He (Yahaya) is a regular participant of Calabar carnival. Because of his years of experience and participation, the Cross Rivers State Carnival Commission got him acting as a kind of ambassador and go-between with cultural groups and troupes in the northern axis. The Cross River state Carnival Commission through Yahaya got my group invited to the 2017 cultural parade billed to take place on the 26th of December 2017, a day after Christmas.  I got talking yet again with the officials of the carnival commission and they asked me to liaise with my state's ministry for culture and tourism of course as a private participant. On my inquiry with the Niger state Ministry for Culture and Tourism I was able to deduce that their invitation came late and

By Marjaan Sadiq. Marjaan Sadiq was at Nigeria’s foremost writers’ residency, the Ebedi, Iseyin, Oyo state between November and December last year. Here, she writes of her experiences at Ebedi, of the things in her head and the memories in her heart. On the road to Ibadan, I wonder what Iseyin will look like. I let my mind travel ahead of my body. I have always done that; let my imagination traverse the earth, go to places in my head, see things. Sometimes these images that are a part of my mental creation overwhelm me. Sometimes the greenery of acres of unused lands in my head make me crave to be on the road, the antiquated beauty of historical attractions make me hunger to be somewhere new, yet ancient, somewhere I can connect with the people of old. Alas, the lands are not so green, and historical places have been soiled with bits of technological advancements such that you are reminded that you're of the present, not the past. I have learned to understand that things

The lounge of an international airport is the least of places to expect to see a traditional Kente fabric weaver working hard at his loom, spinning yarn after yarn into beautiful patterns of clothes. The departure lounge of the Kotoka Int. Airport Accra, Ghana is one certain place you will find Mr. Kwadwo Asante, 49, busy with both hands and feet on his loom producing traditional kente materials for sale to travelers. A few feet away, nestled between him and an official working desk is an open shop that displays and sells his products to travelers looking to buy authentic Kente fabrics as gifts, souvenirs, and mementos. Mr. Asante at work Mr. Asante’s sisters are the vendors in the shop. “It’s a family trade back in our Kumasi region,” he confirms to me, his eyes shining with pride. He has been in it for 36 years now. “I learned the trade from my father and my 17 year-old son is also into it,” he speaks with a tenor of fulfillment in his voice. Beside