"I find joy in my children. My own father died when I was 15. I was shattered, blown away. I became a stone. One should cry to resolve a death, but I couldn't cry for 25 years. I didn't write a word about my father. There are so many different ways to deal with pain, and after 25 years I wrote about the way we buried my father. When I wrote that poem I cried as if I was standing at his grave, watching the coffin go in. His death was resolved. It was quite a long poem."
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.