FORTUNATE TRAVELLER

Category

Non-fiction

Non-fiction

A Bridge Between Learning and Mourning by Tọ́pẹ́ Salaudeen-Adégòkè

For a moment, I complimented myself on timing my arrival when I saw the heavy traffic on the other lane of the Third Mainland Bridge – sense will not kuku kill me. It was night, the rush hour of Lagos traffic. Traffic was free on my lane – towards Lagos Island – like a deserted highway. The other side was a gridlock of people getting away from the Island, characteristic…

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Non-fiction

Brisbane: Memories of Migration by Uzo Dibia

First the seduction, then the beheading: Holofernes! John the Baptist! Maybe I am next in line, I pondered as Magda gave me the spiel. Recruiters will seduce you with their words, and when you succumb, you find you’ve been sold a dud or sent to the backwaters of an unknown country. This script was well-worn, often followed and almost always seen to its contrived conclusion. Magda’s words were smooth, enunciated…

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Non-fiction

A JJC in Lagos by Cynthia Adaobi Okpala

In other states, you will see a bold signboard with a welcome greeting as soon as you get to their boundaries. But Lagos will not welcome you with anything like ‘Welcome to Lagos’. What you will find is a brusque statement that is figurative of the unwelcome salutation that awaits your arrival. Something bold and specific, something uninterested in unnecessary friendliness and frivolities, something close to the hustle and bustle,…

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Non-fiction

An Artist’s Diary III: The Homeward Journey by C. Krydz Ikwuemesi

The border was as tough as it had been when we passed the previous Saturday, though not the same officials except one. This time the police openly requested 3000cfa before they would touch our documents. Whereupon we interjected that we had almost exhausted our funds and were just managing to get back to our country. Besides, we had paid 6000 cfa when we passed the other day and it was…

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Non-fiction

An Artist’s Diary II: The Long Road to Abidjan by C. Krydz Ikwuemesi

Elubor is Ghana’s border town on the road to Ivory Coast. It is about two hundred kilometers from Cape Coast. By the time we got there around 7.30pm, both the Ghanaian and Ivorian border posts had closed for the day. We had no other option than to check into a hotel nearby and wait for daybreak. Hotel Cocoville was noisy and rowdy with a disco party and a throng of…

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Non-fiction

An Artist’s Diary I: Negotiating West African Borders by C. Krydz Ikwuemesi

‘Halte!’ It was the voice of a leather-faced Beninois policeman, shocking us to a sudden realisation that we were at the border once again, the Benin-Togo border. We had crossed the Nigeria-Benin border unchallenged. In fact, it had been like a VIP. affair. The place had been busy with Nigerian and Beninois policemen standing on either side of the road. And they had waved us on without stopping our Toyota…

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Non-fiction

Netherlands: My Second Love by Fiyinfoluwa Akinsiku

An early drizzle made a pitched percussion on the airplane window that morning. Dressed in a mid-thigh red gown, black leggings and a jacket of excitement, I smiled to myself as I remembered a friend called it a short, hot, red dress. It must have been the hotness of the red dress, then, that made the immigration officer, seated in a cubicle beyond the area demarcated by a large DEPARTURES…

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Non-fiction

Of Secret Loves and Gods of Flesh by Tope Salaudeen-Adegoke

      The loves we share with a city are often secret loves. – Albert Camus; ‘Summers in Algiers’ from The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays. The beauty of a city is ascertained at night; a night is a beautician which costumes and, most of the times, prettifies its landscapes. When the fussiness of transaction is laid to rest somewhere in the pulse of a city and the last spatter…

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Non-fiction

Our Bell Boy by Femi Oyebode

Our Bell Boy, Raymundo, was not a boy at all but a full-grown man. He was a small, that is to say, short man, of slight build and weathered oak complexion. He was a Philippino. He carried our luggage up to our room on the first floor of the Atlantic Hotel. We are in Florence for a few days. He talked about Duterte, condemning Duterte’s vulgar language. I talked about Trump….

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Non-fiction

Welcome to Abuja by Uche Orjinta

Because of the course I studied in university, I had the privilege to choose where to apply for my Student Industrial Training and Internship Programme. Well, my options were not varied. So I applied to the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC) Abuja. And so began my love/hate relationship with Nigeria’s federal capital territory. Abuja is quite a distance from Lagos by road. Initially I had my reservations but being the…

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