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  Jack Mapanje
Niyi Osundare
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  Anietie Isong

  Chinelo Achebe-

  Akin Adesokan
  Tolu Ogunlesi

  Adaobi Tricia
  Eghosa Imasuen
  Mpalive Msiska
  Roi Kwabena

  Nnedi Okoroafor-

  George E. Clarke
  Kimyia Varzi
  Uche Nduka
  Amatoritsero Ede
  Obododimma Oha
  Leila Aboulela
  James Whyle
  Koye Oyedeji
  Becky Clarke
  Nike Adesuyi
  Derek Petersen
  Afam Akeh
  Olutola Ositelu
  V. Ehikhamenor
  Molara Wood
  Chime Hilary
  Wumi Raji
  Chuma Nwokolo



Anietie Isong

Anietie Isong

Isong grew up in Nigeria. He studied Communication and Language Arts at the University of Ibadan and Globalization and Communication at the University of Leicester. He has worked as a script writer and producer for FRCN and a freelance writer and editor for other organizations. He has written several short stories. Some of them have been published in Okike, Farafina Online, In Posse Review, Commonwealth Broadcaster, and Spirit of the Commonwealth. He has won a Commonwealth Short Story Award, a MUSON Poetry Award and the Oluadah Equiano Prize for Fiction. He lives in Leicester, UK.

 Two Poems
  These Many Rivers

Lagos envelopes me like a fog.
There are no jobs here. No vacancies.
Never mind the adverts littering our dailies.
My CVs lie fallow on mahogany desks.
There’s no respite for the poor.
None. None at all.
I have no ‘uncles’ to endorse my application.
No godfathers to influence my employment.
No senators. No generals.
No one. No one at all.
But I’ll survive.
In this city of excellent despair,
I’ll survive.

Ayilara, street of the accursed.
In your bosom I’ve found solace.
In your breath I’ve found succour.
Connections play no tricks at your backyard.
Only guts.
Sheer guts.

Slowly the innocent kitten becomes a tiger.
Slowly the indolent worm becomes a viper.
Yesterday, my father cried:
“This is my beloved daughter in whom I am well pleased.”
This day, this hour.
Shall I say I have been a sculptor,
moulding passion and fury?
Shall I say I have been a tailor,
patching anger and desires?
Shall I simply say I have been a harlot?

The Honourable

I leave for the House.
I leave to dwell among wolves and sheep.

O Benevolent One, Patriarch of the Tribe,
I pray for courage.
To resist bribes concealed in cellophane bags.
To resist the advances of Assembly sluts.

May I not forget the Tribe.
May I not forsake the Tribe.

O Benevolent One, Patriarch of the Tribe,
I pray for power.
To survive the assassin’s bullets.
To survive the heat of impeachment.

O Benevolent One, Patriarch of the Tribe,
I am on my knees.
I have been on my knees.
I, the honourable.

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