Nipe Nafasi || Isaac Ongere Anyolo
Kama wadhani amani ni Nafuu kuipata Jaribu Umwagaji damu.
Month: February 2022
Une Seconde Victime || Abdoulaye Hali Aboubacar
Mon mari est décédé. Il m’a laissé avec une grossesse et une petite fille. Que vais-je dire à ses enfants ? Pouvais-je leur dire que leur père était un assassin, un terroriste ?
Une rose en plein désert || Some Veronique
Je voulais devenir pilote car j’aimais voyager. La séparation n’était pas aisée car je devais me retrouver seule dans un pays étranger où je ne connaissais personne. Mais pour tous les efforts de la famille TOURE il fallait que je réussisse.
Les dieux terroristes by Achille Zigani
Un mois plus tard, les groupes terroristes ont fait irruption dans le village de Silmagou, les femmes ont été sommées de s’habiller en burqa. Le discours était de plus en plus radical. Les lieux de débit de boisson sont saccagés. Farida, l’épouse de Assane commença à s’inquiéter de l’absence de son mari. Le ton des hommes armés devenait inquiètant.
The Price Of Patriotism || Musa Hashim
Ibrahim slumped. His fellow veterans rushed towards him screaming. The last thing Ibrahim saw before he lost consciousness was the waving flag of a country that had long ago abandoned the likes of him.
Rahima’s Return || Akumbu Uche
At least, Mallam Abdullahi conceded, God had been kind to him. He had lost his first daughter, but he had lived long enough to see his second daughter return to him. Her mother had not been so lucky.
Modu’s Resolution || Abba Adamu Musa
When Constable Ali was murdered, every commercial motorcyclist in Lamari, a community in the town of Damari, celebrated. There was wild jubilation, for they thought that his demise was the end of their problems.
Kisasi by Sonnia Gitome
“I don’t know why my father chose the path that he chose. I am his daughter but nothing like him. I have carved my own path. I value human life; I respect the law and I’m here because I believe I can safeguard the constitution and the citizens of this country.” As she said the last words, she saw several officers exchange looks. The answer seemed to satisfy them because she got the job.
Hate Is Like Party Jollof || Bọ́ládalẹ́ Tèmítọ́pẹ́ Maryam
Abdullah saw the hate, felt the touch of the anger, heard the thrust of the weapon and then felt the pain. As Abdullah looked into the eyes of the man who had stabbed him, he saw his own fear reflected in his killer. He saw the eyes of the politician’s daughter from his independence day operation, pleading as he had thrust his manhood into what was left of her after the rest of the gang had had their way with her. He saw her blood mingle with his.
Four Shots || S. Su’eddie Vershima Agema
There was that loud noise again, repeatedly, and this time anxious shouts followed. The group of men with their hands on their heads fell to the ground. Something was wrong!