The Kolo Kenneth Kadiri Blog

The night was cold. It was not traditional, like all nights – natural and usual. It was already two weeks in to the harmattan, but the he...

Aw, with this weather? Let the bombs rain Warmth come forth for Those without a blanket Merry where the cisterns leak They will hug ...

The winds wound round the hills and came tumbling in to the sleepy town, carrying heavy July clouds. In this part of the country, the mont...

I sit half awake, half amok Carried away by the chants Of empty scary black masks Droning chants of nineteenth century druids Seasonal migra...