From the tales of magic and superhuman prowess of the Egyptian hero to the highly believable anthropomorphic tales told across
The languages my books have been translated into so far (March 31, 2012) : French German Spanish Italian Portuguese Greek
Black voices cry their anguished plea What will you say if my murderer is the law? Never mind, it's just a
Some remarkable changes happened to the world in lockdown because of the novel virus pandemic disease. The ozone layer healed
Okay, I am back to my blog after some months away. A lot has happened since then. I have considered
Join me for a day of celebrating both my birthday and the release of my book, Gathering the Words. It
My childhood years were spent in Ibadan, in a once prosperous middle class neighbourhood, where gentrification currently seems to be
‘Yes, my dear young man, the country has now been stolen by soldiers who are only bandits in camouflage tunics,
From the local British Council Library you could borrow four books or so for a couple of weeks and at
Children are creative readers, my childhood imaginations were formidable. Reading a story or listening to a folktale being told, was
In front of my office is a children’s nursery school, and listening to the little ones recite their own patent
Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole by D.O Fagunwa, is widely considered the first novel written in the Yoruba language and
I see him at the beginning of faint memory, a three year old boy. I see him on the seat
One of my favourite comedy films is The Black Bird, featuring a constantly harrased detective called Sam Spade. The film
For reasons still not clear to me, my mother did not have a wall clock in the house when I
Sam Fajana spoke confidently and fluently as if he were reading from a book. ‘There exists a whole world which
Femi had one occasion found himself in queue for laying of hands one Saturday breakfast meeting. It just on that
The old man finished his lunch and stared out for a while out through the wide window of the paladar.
I once attended a church where the piano player had no idea how to play the damn thing, and kept
This is a “protest” story I wrote in 2006 in London. It is as usual a surrealistic satire , one