Moveee Editorials

Every phone call was a small trial. His aunt heard a woman. The call centre agent refused to believe him. His own mother couldn’t place him. In this essay, Obinna traces the life of a voice that never sounded the way the world expected it to, and the quiet defiance of letting it be what it is.

Four boys on their way to school in the Gusii highlands stumble upon a dead hyena beneath a felled tree. What follows — a butcher’s son with a stolen knife, undigested meat that doesn’t look like any animal, and a corpse that vanishes without a trace by evening — reopens every story they were told not to believe about the witches who ride in the night.

Coach Oliver Berdeen Johnson — the Father of Nigerian Basketball — has spent over 50 years building a legacy on and off the court. Now, through The Collector’s Game, his private art collection, including original Ladi Kwali pottery and Benin bronzes, is touring Nigeria for the first time. This is the story of the woman holding it all together.

I first met Bon Appétit, Your Majesty, on a humid Lagos evening. I was sitting under the yellow swing of my living-room lamp, the evening…

It happened abruptly,In the blink of an eye,One minute, you were a full-bodied man,The next, you’re short one component Were, a word that has now…

And as long as men are swayed by their hearts and stomachs and not their heads the Chief Nangas of this world will continue to…

I am a man who builds caves for the shards of my soul and prefers my skin be romanced by the stingers of a mourner’s…

So That We Can Breathe Terrorism, a continued threat to humanity, Must be combated, must be precluded We want peace, don’t want violence. Man horrified…

Change is constant, so they say. I’ve been taught to expect change and to evolve as a person, but there are some changes in my…

“I will kill you today!” He yelled after administering another slap on my face and moved to lock the door. I wondered what must have…

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow STANZA I As I write this, I…

For the first time since I was folded in my sleep, I noticed dawn smelled of burning wood. Flipping myself like a turtle’s shell on…

He got my heart. He really did. But he is an atheist. An unrepentant one. A typical former-believer-turned-unbeliever kind of atheist. Like most atheists usually…

I talk to myself a lot. My parents find it strange when they walk in on me, but we always end up having a good…

Life was a big circus to me. Everything was still beginning. You know that phase in your life when you had not a teeny-weeny care…

Click! That’s the last sound I hear before the world goes dark. I’m crouched beside my fallen mother. My father towers above us like bent…

let’s talk about our concerns, fears and hope. for a country with wealthy potentials wait, wait, aren’t we tired of being called “potential” for a…

These things began in tricklesThe age-long pinch in our features, the halts in our stepsDealt by unequal hands, by vicious memories that wouldn’t be appeasedThe…

Deadness sits on his wrist;Thin slits of spilling redness; the life waterThat crawl onto his palmsAnd falls from his fingersBut does not reach the earthTo…