Killing a chicken or how I became no longer a fishtarian

The headless fowl kept twitching for what seemed to be at least ten minutes. As I was holding the brown chicken’s wings all kinds of thoughts ran though my head. How warm the animal I had just killed still was. How the blood did not gush as generously as I…

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Femke becomes Funke: ‘That’s not a discount, that’s an insult’

Admittedly, I was getting audacious. After watching Sola’s technique for almost two weeks, I thought I could pull it off. I had been studying his bargaining moves, how he cracked jokes in Yoruba at the right moment and pretended to be offended the next. So when he stepped out for…

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Femke becomes Funke: An oyinbo’s guide to mastering Lagos traffic

This has to be done. You may accuse me of blatant plagiarism (an interesting habit in this country, however unfounded) of a certain Nigerian writer’s how to’s, but I’ve always been of the conviction that it is better to steal a good idea than to come up with a bad…

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