It's Diwali time. Diwali is the Hindu New Year, and where I live, fireworks have been lighting up the night sky in celebration for several days now. Seduced by the spectacular show, I watched from my balcony till late; at some point giving in to my sons request that they go and observe from close quarters in a neighbouring garden. That was two nights ago (rain probably scuppered any chance of fireworks last night). Then yesterday, my favourite and nicest neighbour - the Indian lady downstairs - made me feel like I was back in Nigeria where neighbours will send food round on special occasions. She sent her son to give me these Diwali specials, known as Fah-fah (don't know if I've got the name right). It was quite a touching gesture for me and a first, because in all my years in this country, no neighbour had ever done anything like that. I managed to keep my 8-year-old's hands off the 'colourful and starry crisps' long enough to photograph them. They've since disappeared down our bellies, but from these pictures, I'd say Fah-fah look as sweet as they taste. And now, I must share these photos with the lady downstairs.
I am a writer and arts journalist now based in Lagos. This is a blog on arts and culture. The focus is on Nigeria's art scene, especially her 'Word's Body' - the writers. As and when, we'll also touch on wider African writing, as well as international literature. In short, a saturation of the arts.