On Sunday or Friday morning, Ghana is magnificent. The streets fill early, the women in their kente and lace, the
What does Ghanaian journalism owe to its people and what has it too often withheld? There is a comfortable lie
It is a cold Monday evening, and I am making a case. Not to a judge, not to a jury
There was a time, not very long ago, when the flow of public information followed a narrower path. News was
There’s a special kind of madness that comes with living in a neighbourhood where everyone assumes your wallet was woven
In Damilare Kuku’s Nearly All The Men in Lagos Are Mad, love is a battlefield fought in wigs, WhatsApp messages,
When Lolita was first published in America in 1958, it carried the scent of scandal like cheap perfume. Nabokov’s manuscript
In the span of a few weeks, Ghana’s public discourse was forced into a difficult reckoning about authority, discipline, and
The first time I read The Famished Road, I didn’t really read it, I floated through it. I remember reaching
In Tomorrow I Become a Woman, Aiwanose Odafen’s luminous debut novel, the act of “becoming” is less a rite of
J. Cole has often cast himself as hip hop’s moral center, a moral inquiry into fame, ambition, and Black American
In Swallow, Nigerian novelist Sefi Atta takes us back to 1980s Lagos, not with nostalgia, but with the steady gaze
Ebo Taylor with multiple grammy-nominated Ghanaian artiste, Rocky Dawuni. Picture courtesy: Rocky Dawuni Facebook page. Ebo Taylor, one of the
I first read No Sweetness Here and Other Stories by Ama Ata Aidoo in 2005, tucked into a corner of
There are books that raise their voices in protest, and there are books that examine, with forensic precision, why so