2024

My quill isn’t broken. My ink jar isn’t empty or dry. On this literary journey—aspiring to be as engrossing as Kongi or as imaginative as William Wordsworth—I’ve come to realize that taking breaks as a creative is often the best recipe for producing exceptional work. Just as muscles aren’t built in the gym but during rest, literary inspiration isn’t replenished while searching for the perfect words. So, I’ve been resting—but not anymore. A friend of mine recently posted a Haiku,…

So I got detained at the international airport in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. I’ll tell you about it. I lived in the northern part of Nigeria for a few years. Mubi in Adamawa state precisely. I had some of my life’s best memories there. The friends that have now turned family, the Hausa and Fulfulde that I pretend to speak and understand, and the many nights of travel between Mubi and other neighbouring states (Maiduguri, Bauchi, Gombe). I still get flashbacks…

Well, scratch that title. It’s not what this blog post is about. The truth is, since the start of 2024, every time I dipped my quill in ink, it dries up before I compose anything coherent. Ladies and gentlemen, I am experiencing the block. A few weeks ago, I was joking around with a friend about the thought pieces I should put out this year. About 7 of them. We bounced a few ideas around, in the hope that I’d…