I have so many scars from the thorns of my rose plant. So many times because I don't have the right tools. I reach into its trusses trying to remove its dead leaves and twigs its thorns scratch the sides of my fingers sometimes drawing blood. It never shrinks its thorns, they never fall off because of the pain it's causing me. I have to get gloves. In the wild, the rose does not have me to spray pesticides on it to protect its leaves and stems from pests. So the thorns are an evolutionary defence mechanism a way to ward off the creatures that only harm it so I can't ask it to swallow its thorns into its stems because it makes it hard for me to

So why do I shrink why do I retreat into myself when I think the other person is uncomfortable with my requests with voicing out my needs and even asking for help?

It's been difficult living like me. I'm a plus-sized Muslim woman who has to wear big clothes on an even bigger body. I have to somehow be calm and not demand too much because I don't want to be seen as too masculine or ridiculously large with my needs or hunger. But my plant doesn't bother to swallow its thorns so I can prune it without pricking my fingers on them. I have to make space for those thorns I have to respect the boundary it sets on its stem and branches and that dear reader is something I believe all of us should do. Set our boundaries and take up space.

I want to end this series here. I have so much more I want to write about.

So till next time take care and take up space.

Regards,

Aisha

Today I want to write a poem. It’s been almost five months without writing a new one and my body has been restless. So today I’ll teach you the lesson from my plant in a poem.

A piece of bread

A little dribble of ice cream

And somehow you are too much

You are Expansive like a tsunami swallowing a city

There is no grace for your body

For the hunger it has

There is no grace for your needs

For the energy every crumb of bread

Every drop of milk will give you

Until you take it

Until you replenish your cells

Until you give your body space to hunger

Until you take your hunger as survival and not a nuisance

Until you feed the beast

It's been a minute my head was clear enough to write to you. In the pursuit of a better life, or let me say a more financially stable one, I've ignored a lot of things I used to do. On the bright side, I've also gotten new hobbies besides doom scrolling and joining a book club. I got gifted a rose plant recently. Taking care of it has grounded and taught me important lessons about self care I wish to share with you over the next few weeks (hopefully not months).

Prune the dead flowers and leaves.

I'm especially guilty of holding onto dead things; relationships, friendships, even jobs. I do it because I believe that if I'm stubborn enough, if I fix everything, even the things I didn't break, I will be a good person, a strong person.

I wanted my Rose plant to follow suit.

When I brought it home with me, it had 10 pink buds that crowned its thick green stems. I loved looking at them. I wanted them to bloom into these big roses with petals the same pink I saw.

I pictured myself touching the petals, cutting them and making myself a beautiful bouquet. So, even when the buds turned yellow and started drying up I left them. I didn't know that they were killing my plant. After a few days, the buds increased but they were not blooming, only drying up.

Last week, I decided to use Gemini to find out what was wrong with my mother's Aloe Vera: they'd turned brown and their roots were dry. When I took a picture and sent it to the chatbot, it said the plant needed space, and that I needed to take out some of the stems and replant them.

I removed so many Aloe Vera plants from that broken paint bucket that by the time I was done shoveling soil into empty vegetable oil bottles I had cut in half and replanting them, I brought out my phone and with dirt covered nails took a picture of my rose plant and sent it to the Gemini chat bot.

It said: “Well, look at that! Switching gears from succulents to a beautiful rose bush in image_8.png.

Roses are a completely different ballgame compared to aloe vera. While aloes love to be neglected and left bone-dry, roses are hungry, thirsty plants that require a bit more active pampering to thrive and give you big, beautiful blooms.

Looking at your rose bush, the overall structure looks fairly healthy and leafy, but it's showing a few signs that it's ready for some upgraded care. Here is your quick guide to making this rose explode with growth.

Give it a Haircut (Pruning)

To get maximum flowers, you want to guide where the plant puts its energy.

Look closely at the branches:

The Bottom Twigs: See those weak, spindly little branches trailing low near the soil at the bottom left? Snip those off entirely. They won't produce flowers and just steal energy from the main stalks.

Dead Wood: If you see any stems that are entirely brown, woody, and dry with no leaves, cut them right back to the base.”

Taking the scissors to cut off those buds my hands felt heavy to me. They weren't sharp enough, so I had to apply pressure on the handles, be more deliberate. I watched the buds fall off and thought, 'Will they ever grow back?'

They did.

The next day, a stem appeared, purple and green in its new strength. I was shocked at how fast the change happened. The plant had spent all those weeks pumping energy into dying flowers. It had so much energy that it could grow a stem in a few hours, but it had been focused on keeping dying buds alive.

Dear Reader,

Two days ago I was so angry I missed Taraweh. I had just made the tastiest sauce for Iftar and had only gotten a spoonful before my brother finished it. I had spent an hour in a hot kitchen at the peak of dehydration and I wasn’t going to enjoy a second helping of all that hard-work. I cried while praying Isha because I didn’t want to yell at him and I gave up praying Taraweh. I missed out on an amazing opportunity because of my anger. This Ramadan I realised I am actually a very angry person right now. If you remember I mentioned it in my first newsletter of the year. But I didn’t know how bad it was until I started fasting and reigning in my bad habits. Sometimes your Nafs scream louder than shaytan.

I’ve decided to work on my anger this Ramadan. And I think day 15 is the best time to set new goals and apply more pressure.

Its day 15 and I was meant to check in with you on day 10. I’m closing this with a couple of questions you should reflect on and some links to adhkars and duas I found on the internet.

What would you like to change today?

Are you getting tired?

If yes, how can you replenish your spiritual and physical energy?

Have you been keeping your goals for Ramadan?

Do you need to apply pressure?

What would you like to accomplish in the next fifteen days?

Here are some links to resources that might help you answer these questions:

1. Dua for Rizq

2. The 99 names of Allah:

3. A Ramadan Dua list:

I Also have some resources for meals and tips to get by as a corporate girlie or boy…

I hope this finds you in good shape, if it doesn’t I hope you get better. I’m writing to fasting people so if you aren’t you can swipe or close this tab now.

Ramadan Mubarak its day five how are you doing?? Have you been keeping up with your sallah and reading your Quran have you started giving sadaqa or are you procrastinating like me?

I wrote this with shaky hands and my eyes were seeing black splotches on the screen. This was the hardest day since Ramadan started, my body was weaker than the others and I was finding it hard to focus. But I couldn’t eat three slices of bread when it was time for iftar after drinking a glass of water and eating three dates I couldn’t finish the third slice of bread on my plate. That’s the irony of life all the pain and strife of a couple of years can go away in just a couple of minutes.

I’m writing this to check if you are doing okay to ask if the weight and chaos of this Dunya has allowed you keep up with all the acts of ibadah you need to be observing this Ramadan. It’s not too late to start we have 25 more days to go.

Here are some resources and links to content I believe you’d benefit from this Ramadan content that has resonated with me.

Videos series

Quran 30 for 30:

The name need Ramadan 2026 series by Yaqeen Institute and Omar Suleiman:

Podcasts

The Muslim Girl Podcast

The hadith Podcast

Here are some duas from Omar Suleiman’s Ramadan series Allah’s names

Episode 1

Ya Rahman, from Your throne You wrote mercy upon yourself, You were merciful before there was anyone to receive mercy. Embrace every part of me with that mercy, my past with its scars, my present with its needs and my future with its uncertainty.

Ya Raheem, let me taste the mercy You keep for those who return, reward me with the mercy I have yet to know and raise me to the highest place in Paradise despite my lows.

Ya Ra’uf. Cover me from storms I don’t see coming.

Mend me before I break. Spare me from trials of every kind. Let Your mercy reach me in ways I’ll only understand when I finally meet you.

Episode 2

Ya llahi, the One my heart was created to seek-pull me away from every false worship, from anything that divides my devotion, until nothing fills my longing but You.

Ya Wahid, unify my pursuits into a single direction, and when the world pulls me apart, center me in Your oneness.

Ya Ahad, open my heart to see that nothing compares, so that l’m never overly impressed by anyone but You.

And I come to love Your names and attributes in a way that frees me from all others but You.

Episode 3

Ya Haadi, guide me when my heart forgets the way, pull me back from every turn that leads me astray, let your guidance feel closer than the doubt in my chest and steadier than the voices that confuse me.

• Ya Rasheed, teach me to see truth instinctively, make faith beloved to me, make righteousness feel natural and let sin feel heavy on my chest and hated by my every breath, inspire me with wisdom that protects me even from myself.

Ya Nur, light every darkness I carried or carry within. Let your light pour into my heart and on to all my other limbs until you make me a light and everything I see reminds me of you.

Ya Mubeen, make your signs clear in what

• surrounds me and what is within me, reveal the lesson hidden in every trial, let me never lose sight of Your signs again.

Episode 4

Ya Wali, Be my closest friend when the world drifts away, guard me with the grip that never slips, guide me gently through what I don’t understand and let every loss lead me back to You.

Ya Barr, Keep me firm on the ground I of Your goodness, make my faith steady when my heart trembles, let I me love what brings me to Your I stability and make me patient with what keeps me on its shore.

Ya Rafeeq, Be tender with my soul as You unfold Your plan, soften the path without removing its purpose, make me gentle with others as You’ve been gentle with me, and when I am lonely, fill that space with Your company.

I'll check in with you again on day 10 keep going you’ve got this. May Allah accept all our acts of Ibadah and keep us till the end of Ramadan.

Iftar Mubarak✨

I am finally gathering the words I scattered about the days of 2025 as I was unravelling and reassembling myself in the heat of Yola. Now, I can write to you. It has felt like an eternity since I last wrote. And perhaps it has been. I’ve lived several lives since February 2025.

Finding the motivation to write about last year coincides with reading Undone, a collection of poems by Hauwa Saleh Abubakar, a poet, journalist, and tea maker, based in Kaduna. I’ve been a fan of Hauwa’s work since I was a teenager listening to her read a poem about almajiris in an old classroom in Kongo Campus, ABU Zaria. I was mesmerized by her gentle voice that lightly covered the rotting ceiling boards and old benches. Her work has always been poignant and beautiful and the collection wasn’t any different. I read her work and felt something shift in my chest. I can only liken the feeling to coming home and unhooking my bra. It was so good I felt like I could cry, laugh, and scream about everything that had happened to me, everything I had experienced.

Law school took a pound of my flesh. The people close to me know that sentence is not a metaphor. I lost a lot from going to law school: all my savings, some friendships (they weren’t solid anyway), and a little bit of my sanity. I have never been the most mentally put-together person. Itypically am anxious and struggle with focus. Law school stretched that instability to its limit and it bounced back. Somehow, I didn’t have any suicidal thoughts, even on the darkest days. I would cry and continue my day, as if I weren’t kilometres away from my comfort zone, and as if I wasn’t tired, frustrated, and dehydrated all the time.

I attended a Halaqa last week. The attendees were meant to talk about their experiences during Ramadan 2025, and as I was thinking about what to say when it got to my turn, I thought, ‘I got the opposite of everything I prayed for during Ramadan.’

I wanted to be close to someone because I thought we had a future together, but I broke up the relationship and everyform of contact I had with them in April barely a week into resumption. We hadn’t even started lectures at the time. I prayed to be close to home because I didn’t want to be far away from my comfort zone during such a stressful period, but I was unfortunately posted to Yola.

“It’s good that you got posted to Yola. I wish I hadn’t gone to the Abuja campus sometimes. I didn’t make any new friends. It’ll help you focus and make new friends.” My friend said that when I complained about the posting, andit took the edge off of relocating.

She was right. It was for the best (I accepted this after the first three weeks of resumption). I was tired and frustrated all the time but I was also surrounded by very kind people, and being in a new place without many friends helped reduce distractions. I was able to focus on my academic work and it gave me the courage to try new things. I explored Yola (as best as my schedule in law school allowed me) and I was able to make new friends, girls who will always hold a special place in my heart. Truly, you’ve not met all the people who will love you.

When I added that quote at the beginning of my February 2025 newsletter, I didn’t think I would make new friends. I didn’t think I would meet even more people who made me feel happy and loved. I didn’t know I would appreciate the friendships I already had much more. My people called to check on me multiple times, some even wrote me the nicest motivational poems. I was in shock. I didn’t believe people cared about me that much until I was on one of the most stressful endeavours I’ve faced in my young adult life.

THE SHIFT

I don’t think Nigerian law school can be properly explained to anyone. It’s an experience you have to go through yourself to understand; like childbirth or period cramps. It was overwhelming, but those nine months changed me. I’m not the same person I was at the beginning, no, I have much more rage and tenacity now.

In June, five of our classmates were kidnapped on their way to Yola. I was angry and upset for the whole time they were in captivity, and even angrier when they were finally released and we got a formal address from the head of the campus. But I had to keep coming to class and attending the pre-class meetings. I felt the first shift then. It was like my heart was making space for disappointment but I refused to accept the chaos around me. I refused to accept that it was okay to just go on while people like us suffered. I had grown too accustomed to being in this situation. If you remember, I lost two grandparents within eight months and a breakup preceded that. Apparently I just had to ‘ignore the trauma’ (an official told the kidnap victims this). I was at the same time angry and tired of accepting that this was my reality.

Just when it was almost over, when I could finally return to my life, OJ died by suicide (you’ve probably seen this news on blogs). I saw his picture in the Sahara Reporters’ article about his death and connected his face with the quirky guy who asked me for the lollipop I was holding while buying food in one of the restaurants on campus. I still don’t know how to react to OJ’s death. For the entire time we were writing bar finals I was a mess. My sadness, my anger, my grief (which I didn’t think I deserved to have) didn’t have anywhere to go. I only talked about it with my friends and roommates but it still lingered in the clear blue skies over Yola campus.

“He’s still here with us, he’s following those people with the candles,” My roommate said on the night of our last paper. The students held a memorial for him, a candlelight service. I agreed with her. It was like he was still walking on the wide tarred roads that ran through the middle of the campus, in the auditorium tucked in the grassy pathways and the classes he liked to read in. I still expected to bump into him and say hi or walk past depending on his reaction, as I did before he died. I still blame the campus for what happened. I told a friend that I would never forgive those around him when he died and I meant it.

It’s almost been two months since OJ’s death, and I learned to stop running after people that I had to chase for their love. I can no longer tolerate one-sided relationships. My patience has been worn thin. I’ve given up, maybe it’s because I got an ego boost in school after surviving everything. Or maybe it’s because I realized there was no time to be fighting for frivolous things. I learned to stick to the people who cared about me and showed it. In some way, I think I grew up when I went to law school, or maybe I’m just a traumatized woman. What I do know, is that I emerged from the experience a very calculated woman. I haven’t lost my empathy, but now I feel more selfish. I fear that it would grow into something I can’t control and I’d end up hurting people close to me, so I try to ground myself.

There’s still so much about law school and 2025 I’d loveto tell you about, but I’ll leave it here for now.

It is like water down my throat after a workout

Like the first sparks in a light bulb after a week without electricity

Dear Reader,

I met my 11 year old self at my mother’s shop in Destiny Plaza, Lokoja. To think she would have enough money for transportation would be foolish of me. She was too broke to meet me anywhere so I decided to meet her- little too round for her age, pimply faced, dark skinned- Aisha. She was disappointed to see that she grew to be as fat as her mother, it was her worst nightmare being like the woman that frightened her sometimes. But I told her that she doesn’t have to be so afraid of her mother anymore. I told her that I was friends with her now and that I would even talk to her about men and boyfriends. She didn’t believe it but she didn’t object either she just remained silent and mumbled “okay”

I told 11 year old Aisha that she was loved now. She had so many friends and a man that loved her and she didn’t hide the shock this time she was curious about the man about why I was so confident when I was talking about my life, how I didn’t seem uncomfortable in a body she would have found disgusting. I gave her a big hug just before I left and she cried into my shoulder. It felt good to reassure her.

This is the second month of 2025 and all I can say I have achieved whole heartedly with so much conviction is loving myself and all the people around me. The corporate world has spit me out of its cold slimy mouth. I am now working on part time gigs and developing all my passion projects. At the same time there’s been a lot of friendship and Romance in my life which is normal but this time around there is a contentment I feel about how things are that I have never felt . I have been working since I was 16, volunteering, writing part time for media companies managing and working in teams in NGOs and start ups. Work is all I know. This isn’t the first time I have been in between jobs. But it is the first time other parts of my life feel full enough that I do not want to rush into the next job. I am more interested in creating and executing my own projects than working for some one else’s dream and that’s what I plan on using the rest of the year to do.

Black love

I’ve spent most of February working on creative projects to foster the theme human connections for the month of love. February is also Black history month and I spent most of it watching “A different world” A sitcom set in a Black college in the 1980s. At the centre of the show is a couple whose love story has given me a lot of dopamine(that’s the happy hormone right?) this show fuelled my consciousness and awareness as a Black woman and made me think about Black love and how it is an act of rebellion.

These days it feels like loving or the act of romance is something to be embarrassed about. Especially in Nigeria, survival and hustle culture and mindset has made love, romance and affection seem like a trivial the same way it makes the pursuit of artistic passion delusional. This month I questioned the act of loving and romance in an economy that forced you to only work. After the death of a loved one and the realization that I had one more month before resuming Law School a grueling experience that would possibly isolate from my loved ones. I decided to rebel, to live as openly and as freely as I could. To acknowledge my roots and my identity while facilitating discussions and activities to help others acknowledge theirs.

Dear reader This month and this year I say we rebel we take love boldly and unapologetically no matter the consequence and we live as delusional and as romantic as possible.

Happy New Year!!!

I hope the new year is going well for you. Will it be better than last year?

I will start with an introduction that I think is overdue and necessary. My Name is Aisha Kabiru Mohammed. I am a Hausa/Edo girl writing and storytelling her way through life. I’m a Law graduate(soon to be Law school Student), Poet, Journalist aspiring communications specialist and media mogul. In 2024, I did a lot more work as a journalist. I spent hours researching, pitching and interviewing. I also attended a lot of Journalism training. The two most memorable trainings were the citizen journalist training at Kabafest 2024 by Ruona Meyer in May and The Gender-Based Violence reporting workshop by CJID in December.

In 2024, I discovered I could do more than just digital journalism. I started managing social media pages and optimising my articles for work(the work that sponsored my lifestyle last year). I planned virtual events for Population Services International or PSI Nigeria in December and a ton of events at some point in the year. It seemed like journalism and poetry alone weren’t challenging me. I felt stagnant and started picking up these jobs. I also had to switch careers, and these new roles required me to develop new skills and broaden my communications and digital marketing knowledge.

I have always been a person who started projects only to abandon them when I no longer had any interest. I’m 23 and graduated in September 2024 from a course I started in 2018, but in that time. I’ve volunteered in up to 20 events and organisations, started a podcast named Poet Box Series, A blog With the same name as this Newsletter you’re reading, and a hashtag/campaign for people to share their stories during the lockdown called covidstoriesng. None of these projects lasted longer than 3 years. Yes, studying law is difficult and time-consuming, but I always think I could have managed to carry out at least one of these projects until now.

Last year after graduation, I began to wonder how I’d fit all the things I had dipped my fingers into. I started Art curation in August, spoke to the curator of the ABU Museum, and planned my first Photography exhibition alongside my dear friend Sadia, who always supports my delusional and not-so-on-brand ideas. I struggled to fit all my interests and passions into a working system.

The need to have one job or at least two professions that I am known for and mould myself into a career path I could mention in two phrases plagued me until I had a conversation with my runaway manager. He told me to not be bothered about fitting into a box or what I perceived would be a palatable or uniform career. This dilemma reminded me that I was not the typical Nigerian woman. My parents are not from the same state or region and practice two different religions. I never really fit into a box when it came to Nigerian identity so why do I want to fit into a box for my career? In all of the confusion and desire to create a clear path for my career. I remembered that I spent seven years studying law and would soon go on to Law school. I never really wanted to be a lawyer.

As a child When anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I had different answers depending on my mood and willingness to share the delusion in my head (I wanted to be an archaeologist, an OAP, an author, an astronaut, and a diplomat at some point) Later on I realised that I just wanted to tell stories and travel, I am adventurous and possibly plagued with ADHD(Casually diagnosed by a psychiatrist)

I only want to have similar occupations because I crave the stability that my identity and some of my background didn’t give me. There’s a need to conform with my career because I have never conformed as a Nigerian living in Nigeria and it is only human to want to do so. But I decided last year to ignore comments like '“How many jobs do you have?” and “What do you actually do?” To also sift through advice that has confused me and choose the most important aspects of my career goals and focus on it. I doubt I’ll ever practice law if I manage to earn enough money from the arts. I did it because I needed a “Profession” I have considered practicing to help disadvantaged artists and creatives make better legal decisions and get the respect they deserve. Besides this I am not passionate about Law or its practice. I’ve always seen it as a means to an end and not a discipline I should build a career on.

One thing I have always been passionate about is Art and Writing and storytelling. Which ever form it took. When I wanted to be an archaeologist in JSS2 I wanted to preserve culture and explore Nigeria’s history. When I wanted to be an OAP I wanted to tell stories and inspire people the way the OAPS I was obsessed with inspired me. When I wanted to be an astronaut I think I had the same curiosity to explore other worlds and use my imagination. I’ve always wanted to make a change with stories and art. I reached that conclusion in 2024 and I would follow it through this year and for as long as I can. I believe working as a communications specialist is a form of storytelling. and I am building the skills for that.

I started writing this post unsure of what I wanted to talk about besides introducing myself and now I have rambled and missed the mark a bit so let me try again.

Hi I’m Aisha, a 23 year old from Kaduna state writing and storytelling her way through life I want to make positive impact through media, storytelling and Art. I hope to amplify stories that have been in the dark for too long and drive inclusion especially in Nigeria’s creative sector. Sometimes you’d find my work relating to these themes and sometimes you won’t because a girl must eat and feed her children(Three grown up brothers)

This Year I want to create and tell as much stories as I possibly can before Law school zaps my creativity(Unfortunately I like it when people call me “di law!” and I have to finish what I started) I have a lot of projects I want to work on. I also want to build this Newsletter reporting on Nigeria’s creative industry that I started working last year (You should subscribe to it) 2025 is a clean slate for me and I can’t wait to start creating on it. I’ve already started getting job offers and opportunities to work with people I love and admire. But I’m still open to opportunities for funding and collaborations.

That was one long introduction. but it was worth it. If you’re reading this for the first time. Subscribe

Subscribe now

Dear reader, this year, I have loved, lost, and grieved people and relationships. I have felt kindness, acceptance, and love. I have also felt disdain, rejection, and spite.

I don’t have the language to describe how good it felt to be noticed the way my friends noticed me this year. But I will try to elaborate as much as I can. I felt loved. I started the year in a completely different time zone and reality than I am ending it in.

“You have not met all the people that will love you” Chimanda Ngozi Adichie

If there was a quote that summed up 2024 perfectly this one by CNA would be it. In January I was not in contact with half the people who made my life so much easier this year. I wish someone could tap Aisha lying on the rubber carpet of her slice of a room in February 2020 and tell her that she had not met all the people that will love her. That all she needed to do was allow herself to be loved and she would notice that she was loved even then. I can say that I met so many kind people this year who treated me kindly but I’d be wrong to not acknowledge that I was more trusting this year than I’ve ever been.

“People have been holding space”

This sentence might not have made sense in that interview with Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, but I will borrow some words from it. My people held space for me. There were moments that threatened to crack my mind like an eggshell. They were there even when they didn’t have the words to cheer me up or the rope of letters to lift me from my despair. I talk a great deal about the people I met this year and how fast I built genuine friendships with new people but the OGs still burnt bright. They saw me and held space for me.

“If I had known the life I was searching for was already my own”

Adekunle Gold

The thing about this year is that I was present for most of it. I might have told you before that I am very absent minded. I tend to forget and dissociate easily. I meet new people every year. All other years my friends, mentors and acquaintances are kind to me,they are spectacular and try to piece together my breaking spirit. But this year I was present for all of it. I kept a gratitude journal for most of 2024 and even though it was one of the hardest years of my very young adult life. I held space for the love of my friends and loved ones with my gratitude every day I would write about how much I loved this person. How the opportunities I got from a friend made my career better. It was the only way I could have survived the heartbreak, grief and assault I endured between the months of May June and July. The love was like the light of a dying star against the bleakness of space.The seeds of pepper in a bowl of soup was bright and spicy making my life palatable.

Dear reader, I leave you with one thing This last day of 2024. Let somebody love you. Don't be too afraid of heartbreak, of loss to not trust someone. To not let yourself carry the weight of loneliness. You have not met all the people that will love you and you have all the love you need right now let it in.

This post is an ode to my friends and all the people who eased my life this year. Some of them are in the pictures in the post.

“The wound is place where the light enters you” 

 Rumi

This year my body has been a sieve. I have experienced pain that I didn’t think I would have to endure and joy that has snuck in silently like an uninvited guest. To sum it up I have not predicted anything that has happened to me this year. Death and heartbreak drew the curtains open and let in a rush of light early in the mornings of May and July.

Even as I type this I want to retreat into the darkness into the safety of my body and spirit. The morning light didn’t give me a chance to close my eyes. I was too busy to process all that I had lost or gained because the world moved around me so quickly and I had to put on a mask and pretend that there wasn’t a giant hole in the places that love and comfort once were.

The deaths of July

For two weeks after Aunty Zainab’s daughter died the corridors she once swept were littered with pieces of trash. The entrance to the toilets were wet and slippery with Spirogyra. I imagined my heart and the hearts of so many around me in the month to be similar. Littered with grief, slimy with sadness.

By the second week almost exactly the same time I started going to classes again. The girls grew tired of living so close to filth. They woke up and decided to clean the halls themselves. It was the noisiest cleaning I had ever heard. That moment, I decided my grandmother wouldn’t want me to sulk and mourn her by attempting to pause time and fighting the urge to carry out my business, like I didn’t loose someone who meant so much to me.

I think the hardest part of grieving an older relative in Nigeria is the fact that our culture celebrates older people’s deaths. When I got back home my mother was picking Ankara prints and food vendors to celebrate the death of a mother she had fallen out with. It seemed wrong, I imagined that my mother should not celebrate the pain of loosing her only living parent. That maybe processing the pain would not involve doing things like planning a party when you were grieving But we grieve differently and I think this is one way our ancestors chose to cope with loss of an Elder.

I watched an Instagram reel where a man interviewed an old Jamaican Midwife and she said Elders are libraries. I lost the last library from my Mothers Family on July 28th 2024 and the world didn’t stop. My friends expected me to be okay the next few days, it was harder to stop and wallow in the grief than it was to process everything that happened. I refused to move on like nothing happened though. I had already masked my breakup in May and June and tried to carry on like I was not violently rejected a love I deserved from the person I wanted it from. I spent the next day with my brothers talking about her and forcing the conversation of the pain I was going through on everyone I didn’t care if I had just met you, I was going to talk about my grandmother and how much she meant to me and how sad I was that she couldn’t see me graduate or get married or win a Nobel Prize. How I couldn’t ask how what Edo people where doing during the Biafran war and whether she had met British soldiers before Nigeria gained independence.

Eventually the humdrum of my life was easier to partake in. I could hear the word “Grand mother” without tears gathering in my eyes. I could talk to my mother without feeling the pain of her loss in my chest like it was mine.

The protests of August

I think it’s funny that I became enthralled by a show about vampires while Nigeria’s government fed off the lives of protesters a few miles away. On the 6th of August I scooped spoonful of yellow creamy custard into my mouth while I watched vampires suck the life out of humans. 

At some point I questioned why I wasn’t disgusted. Then I realized that what I was watching and what was happening in the country wasn’t so different. The Vampires on my phone screen were kind enough to hide in the night. The soldiers that were killing protesters did in broad day light. I had just gotten back to living my life and the first class I attended was punctuated with the far off sounds of Gunshots and news of different riots very close to the campus. One would think that it was possible to get used to the sound of gunshots but I haven’t. There was so much violence in August.

The Emancipation of September

My final exam as a Law student in the Faculty Of Law ABU Zaria was written on a hot Monday afternoon on the Second Of September. My friend introduced herself as a newly emancipated Law student the Night before I started writing this Newsletter and I think that adequately describes the experience of my graduation by 2020 I was a student only by name, I was held against every will and bone in my body to keep pursuing that degree for Four more years. There were so many events to celebrate this emancipation and I invested as much money and time and energy to celebrate it because seven years no bi beans. I still don’t think that being emancipated has sunk into my spirit yet. I’m back home and sometimes I still call ABU “my school” or say “my room” or “My hostel” and I don’t think I should be calling these places mine anymore. Still I am emancipated I am free from living a life I disliked so much and I have so much time. To heal, create and live.

It feels good to write to you again. I’m sad that it has to be under this circumstances. I’ve found my literary voice and I’ll be writing to you more often. Take care.

From the 11th to 13th of July 2024. Northern Nigeria witnessed its first ever poetry festival. Poetic Wednesdays a literary organization based in Northern Nigeria curated the festival, which was held in Bayero University Kano. We spoke to one of the minds behind the pioneer festival.

Aisha: Can you start by telling me who you are and why you do what you do?

Salim: I am Salim Yunusa, a freelance writer, Hausa language consultant and a literary administrator. I recently added the 'curator' cap on my head, having organised the Kano International Poetry Festival. I am the founder of Poetic Wednesdays Initiative, a literary organisation which promotes literature and literary activities in Northern Nigeria and Nigeria at large. Why do I do all these? To keep me alive. Saying they're just my passion is reductive at this point. All the things I do are incredibly exciting - among other things and I am just glad to be placed in a position which supports, uplifts and provides a platform to many young people.

Salim Yunusa(Middle) Usman Karofi Progam officer, KAPFEST( left) and Sophiyya EmBee,Administrative officer (right)

Aisha: Can you tell me about Poetic Wednesday’s and the work you do with the organisation?

Salim: I founded Poetic Wednesdays Initiative, which is a youth-led, non-profit literary organisation which focuses on promoting literature and literary activities in Northern Nigeria through creative writing workshops, book chats, festivals, literary evenings, book drives, poetry competitions and more. It started from just a hashtag in 2016 and metamorphosed into what it is today - a full fledged literary organisation with presence in virtually 15 Northern states and more.

Poetic Wednesdays Initiative is not just a home for big names; we believe in small names with  the potential to be big. In our 8 years of operations, we have organised several competitions for young people and given out prizes worth N500,000. We have published an anthology for young people, have conducted creative writing workshops for over 500 people online and offline and hosted book chats for young authors. Through our weekly poetry prompts, we have connected our young participants with mentors to guide and nurture their talents. We have  a platform where we donated over 5,000 books to many secondary schools across Northern Nigeria. We are driven with a zeal to see young people discover their talents and excel with it. We have over 13,000 followers across our social media platforms and over hundreds of active participants.

Aisha: When did you get the idea for Kapfest?

Salim: KAPFEST didn't start out as KAPFEST, it started out years ago as an idea - as Dala Book and Arts festival but with time, Nasiba and I honed it and decided that while there are book and arts festivals everywhere, there are no poetry festivals in Northern Nigeria. In fact, in the whole of Nigeria, there are only two poetry festivals - the Lagos International Poetry Festival and now, the Kano International Poetry Festival.

This is something we've been wanting to do for quite a while, but Nasiba woke up one day and said, "we're doing this, ready or not '', and here we are, still savouring the sweet aftertaste of a successful festival.

Aisha: Was it inspired by any other work or program you witnessed?

Salim: Like I said, it has always been Book and Arts Festivals but we wanted to do something different; something fresh and unique. So, while we did achieve that, we have to acknowledge the passion and fire other programs and festivals lit within us.

Aisha: What was it like organising the festival?

Salim: It's like driving at full speed blindfolded - you know your destination but don't know the situation of the road. It is a  giant chase in a maze; hitting dead ends, chasing deadlines, seeking funding, partnerships and collaborations. It is one big ball of uncertainty, especially if you're not financially buoyant to pull it off.

Luckily, we have an incredible network of supportive family and friends who were with us every step of the way. Some of our guests transported and accommodated themselves, some even sent us their personal contributions. It was all very emotional looking back at it now.Then, there's the planning and executing conundrum - carefully selecting the team, volunteers, guests and other things. It wasn't easy but Alhamdulillah, we're here!

Aisha: Were there moments you thought the festival wouldn’t hold? Can you tell me about that?

Salim: Initially, KAPFEST was supposed to be held in June but due to very glaring uncertainties, we had to add a couple of weeks to resort to plan B. Two days to the festival, I was thinking that (Laughs)  We didn't get a grant or a definitive source for funding. So, the little we got went straight into funding the festival. Everything we got went into it. It was anxiety, panic and a whole lot of emotions running through one but you don't even have the time, luxury or space to show them - that's what being a leader means. You have to pretend - and make sure - at the end of the day, everybody is happy and everything goes smoothly. I was in Kano for a week before the festival but I didn't even have anywhere to lodge. I was jumping from one friend to another, barely getting enough sleep and constantly fighting myself not to fall sick. I was cutting meals to save money in case we fall short. I was moving around so much that I exhausted all the money I was supposed to save and pour into the festival (laughs)

Aisha: That sounds intense. Were there moments where you felt that this was the right thing to do?

Salim: Of course. Right from day one.We are a people of rich culture, poetry, music, diversity and tradition. Right from its conception, we saw the vision: its potentials, its impact and its significance. We've never faltered along the way. We are providing a platform to uncover hidden gems and talents while celebrating the rich artistic North through music and poetry. And this was the right time. And Kano was the right place. And Poetic Wednesdays was the right crew to pull that off.

Aisha: What was it like to plan and put everything together?

Salim: It wasn't as smooth as I'd have wanted it to be, but it really was not as chaotic as one would expect,with this being our first time. Everyone had roles and everyone did their best to make sure they hit the target.We had to use available resources and make the best use of them. And Alhamdulillah, we did magic.

Aisha: What was your mission or let me say your aim in planning the festival?

Salim: In my speech during the opening ceremony, I said, "This festival seeks to explore important contemporary issues such as artificial intelligence and its intersection with creative writing, the relevance of poetry in a rapidly evolving world, and the art of spoken word poetry.

"..We understand the importance of a platform - that’s why we’re providing one – no matter how small it is: we're giving our young and upcoming poets and artists a chance to grow, to be seen, and to excel. We are providing a platform to celebrate and honour our veterans and unsung heroes. It is why we are naming our poetry slam after the celebrated activist and poet, the late Alhaji Mudi Sipikin. We are providing a platform to preserve, document, and propagate the rich culture of artistry and expression among our youths."

Aisha: Did you achieve this?

Salim: We did, Alhamdulillah. The richness of the discussions. The workshops. The book chats. You should've seen the crowd. You should have heard the cheers. It was magical. The poetry slam was simply outstanding. The music and poetry session was a journey; from seeing and singing along with Billy O and Maryam Sangandale, to screaming from the top of our lungs with Classy Dorayi and Khairat Abdullahi. Poetry performances by Ali Lawan, MYZ and more left us spellbound. It was a celebration.

Aisha: Is there any one you’d like to appreciate?  Any one who helped make the process and planning smooth?

Salim: I have like 8,000 people to thank but the most important one is Nasiba - for being there and for making it possible when impossibility was looming and hovering all around us.Khadija Sanusi, Ismail Auwal, Ahmad Abacha, Prof Malumfashi, Sada, Ismail Bala, AB Wordsmith, Karofi, Nana Sule, Idris, Umar Bello, Marshall, our volunteers.... The list is endless. From people who bought tickets for participants, to our participants and guests... I'm grateful for every single person who made it possible and above all, who was standing there with me and made me strong!