“We were energised by the enormous breadth and diversity of the stories we were presented with – all of which collectively did much to challenge the notion of the African and diaspora experience, and its portrayal in fiction, as being one homogenous whole.

I didn't initially have any plans to do a post for International Women's Day, because as cheesy as it may sound - everyday is Women's Day for me, but as I was scrolling through twitter I read a tweet where someone mentioned what book would make it on their top 15 books of ALL time. This then got me thinking, which books by African women writers would make it on my top books of ALL time? 

Artwork by Nicholle Kobi Definitely not as glamourous when I'm reading.

Now, here's the catch - I am notoriously bad with deciding what my favourite books are. I struggle with choosing one favourite for many reasons - because different books have meant different things to me at different points in my life; because the ones that I love, I love them in different ways. At the same time, I also do know that there are some books that stay with me long after I have read them, that I would recommend if someone asks for a recommendation, and that I would shout (if I was the shouting type) at the top of my lungs about how absolutely awesome/amazing/epic/stunning/add other words to the list the book is. 

So, here I am about to share some of the contemporary books by African women writers that I absolutely adore, and would make my top books of ALL time. I'm starting with 5, mainly because when I asked myself, in the last 5 years which 5 books I've read would make it onto a list like this, they were the ones that instantly popped into my head. I'm also starting with 5 because I liked the sound of 5 books in 5 years :). Others came up afterwards, which makes me want to give myself more time to put together a longer list of my ALL time favourite books by African writers. That will soon come.

For now here are the first 5 - and in the order in which I first read them. I should add that four out of five of the books have one thing in common - they are either historical fiction, or have strong elements of historical fiction in them. While three of the five have strong elements of fantasy fiction and mythology. And, if there are two genres I stan hard for, it is fantasy and historical fiction. 

I first read Byrony Rheam's This September Sun in 2013 thanks to a copy sent by 'amaBooks (a Zimbabwean publisher). I instantly fell in love with the story and the characters. This September Sun is set mainly in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe and tells the story of Ellie - trying to make sense of her life and her grandmother, Evelyn - whom she had a really close relationship with. There was something about Ellie's constant sense of longing that I was drawn to. She never could quite fill it- she didn't quite fit in in her hometown, longed to escape but when she finally moved to the UK (thinking that void would be filled), it didn't quite make a difference. I loved the historical elements of the story, Evelyn's diaries and letters that Ellie finds when she returns home and begins to piece her grandmother's life together. 



I first read Irenosen Okojie's Butterfly Fish in 2015. As I have admitted in a review I wrote on the book, I never would have read this novel if it wasn't for a book chat I had with Irenosen Okojie at Ake Festival in 2015. What a travesty that would have been, because this book is everything I love in one - it's intergenerational (following a family), it's historical fiction (starting in 19th century Benin and going all the way to modern-day London), it's set across multiple locations (Benin, Lagos, London), there's somewhat of a curse (oh I love a good curse), there's the fantasy and mythical element, but there are also layers. In Butterfly Fish, the main character Joy's mother unexpectedly passes away and we see how Joy copes with that loss, especially as it's been only her and her mother since day one. There's more than that, as while Joy in modern-day London is trying to cope, we also go way back to 19th century Benin to the Oba's palace, where we meet his new and eighth wife, Adesuwa. There's more, of course, an inheritance, a brass head, a diary, and tons of secrets (I also love a good secret). Okojie is a beautiful storyteller, she creates fascinating worlds and I absolutely love the way her mind works.





Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi's Kintu, I first read in 2016 immediately after the Writivism Festival in Kampala. I had been wanting to read Kintu since it was published by Kwani?, but unfortunately it was extremely hard to access it outside of Kenya and Uganda. So, obviously when I was in Kampala, I knew I had to get a copy of it, which thankfully I did. I didn't even wait to get home - I read the book on the flight back to London from Entebbe. I was sucked into the world Makumbi created from the prologue in Kampala in 2004. Again, here was a book including elements of all the things I love - multi/intergenerational (it follows a family), historical fiction (going as far back as the Buddu Province in 1750), there's also the fantasy and mythical elements, a family curse (I really do love a good curse), and layers upon layers. Told in six parts, I loved how each part was separate, but also interconnected (as the family curse wove through). And I was intrigued by how one man's terrible action and even more terrible decision to hide that action affected his entire generation, which made me think about the scars we are left with based on actions made and decisions taken by our ancestors.




I first read Ireonsen Okojie's Speak Gigantular late 2016, while in Jos for work. If Butterfly Fish didn't already make me a fan of Okojie, Speak Gigantular definitely cemented it. It felt like Speak Gigantular was written for women like me who love reading about weird and twisted things. Most (but not all of the stories) are set in London. There's one in a Danish town with a boy who is growing a tail (like I said wonderfully weird). There are tales of suicide and ghosts haunting the London underground; twin sisters, impersonation, and inner demons coming to life; deadly foot fetishes and more. After reading it I posted on instagram that it was 'without a doubt ... now one of my favourite short story collections. It's so so so good. It's also really disturbing, but I like my oh so very weird and wonderful reads'. I still feel that way 18 months later.





Laila Lalami's The Moor's Account is the most recent book I've read on this list - having read it in 2017. I will admit when I first picked it up to read I wasn't feeling it. So, I put it aside and read something else. A few weeks later, I decided to give it another try, and I.was.blown.away. The Moor's Account is epic - I can't think of any other word to describe it. In the acknowledgement of the book Laila Lalami writes '... my protagonist, about whose background nothing is known, except for one line in Cabeza de Vaca's "Relacion" ("The fourth survivor is Estevanico, an Arab Negro from Azamor")'. From that one line, Lalami gifted us with 428 pages of Estevancio's life. From how he came into this world, to his life in Azamor, to wilfully selling himself as a slave, to his first 'owner', to how he happened to be on this voyage to the Americas, to their experiences in the Americas. I could not put the book down. It's rich, it's gripping, it's remarkable ... I could go on.




As I mentioned earlier these were the first five books that came to my mind when I asked myself the question, but since then I've thought of at least ten more books I would add to this list (by women writers alone). So I definitely am going to put together a list of my ALL time top books by African writers. Until then, what would be in your top 5?

I admitted once, and I am not ashamed to admit it again - I was late to discover Saraba Magazine. For me it was August 2012 on one of my many searches. What stood out for me initially was the cover designs, and what they conveyed about the themes of each issue - which at that time was published 4 times a year - around Music, Food, Sex, Justice, Art and more. 

Past digital issues of Saraba Magazine

Saraba first appeared on the literary scene four years earlier - February 2009. This was after conversations in late 2008 between two undergraduates at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife - Emmanuel Iduma and Dami Ajayi, about emerging writing in Nigeria and Africa. Since then Saraba has gone on to publish almost 30 digital issues of their magazine, as well as poetry chapbooks. They also launched a manuscript project in 2015.

Well, after nine years Saraba is making the transition from digital to print. Their first print issue is aptly named Transitions, and explores the theme through questions of time, movement and sexual identity, among others. This transition from digital to print, the excitement surrounding it, as well as the significance of Saraba Magazine in the (African) literary space was beautifully captured by Bwesigye Bwa Mwesigire of Writivism in a thread on twitter.




As Bwesigye goes on to tweet in his thread:  

At 9 years, Saraba is an inspirational story for building literary infrastructure on the continent. Fine literary activism. Solid record ... [and] if any one individual or/and institution reflects what our generation has contributes to the African Republic of Letters, Iduma/Saraba.

Well, Transitions launches in a few days (October 2 2017) and in a press release on the forthcoming print issue, the Saraba team writes: 

We have gathered writings - reportage, short stories, travel essays, poems - befitting of our foray into print. Our contributors are writers you should be reading, and visual artists whose images are compelling. 

... and let me just say Saraba is not playing with their first print issue. As the press release goes on to state:

The cover is designed by Ojima Abalaka, the brilliant illustrator whose work has been featured in the New York Times. The are poems by Gbenga Adesina; short stories by Suzanne Ushie, Ireonosen Okojie, Abiola Oni, Eboka Chukwudi Peter, T J Benson, Amarachi Ekekwe, Hajara Hussaini Ashara and Ebele Mogo; essays by Temitayo Olofinula, Kola Tubosun, Uche Okonkwo and Yinka Elujoba; portfolios of photographs by Ladan Osman and Ayeni Olajide. And an interview with Ayobami Adebayo. 

Transitions also includes writing from several of the awardees of Saraba's Manuscript Project and essays from writers that participated in the 2016 edition of the Invisible Borders trans-Nigerian road trip.  

N65 by Aderemi Adegbite. Image via Africa Writes

On Sunday June 4 2017, I will be in conversation with Ireonsen Okojie as part of SIMPLYGorgeous' first in their Sunday Chill Sessions - a series of events centred around the arts. A family owned afro hair salon, SIMPLYGorgeous  is taking inspiration from the idea of a salon as a place for discussion and learning to host these Sunday Chill Sessions. Through it, they aim to provide a space for likeminded women to convene, discuss ideas, identity and be inspired. As the Deborah Johnson - the brains behind the event explains: 

Our aim with these events is to offer women of colour a kick back offline environment to be inspired and connect. In a nutshell, it’s creating a space that I would’ve loved to already have found. A place that champions and supports arts from the experience and perspectives of women such as myself. It’s not about excluding anyone but is more about providing a platform for the talents, issues and themes that are unique to women of colour and allowing these experiences to be nurtured and supported. 

This is our first session and we hope to have them occur monthly at least and have women view SIMPLYGorgeous as a place that supports all elements of beauty. Both physically and mentally. 

I was first approached by Deborah Johnson about the salon event earlier this year, and I instantly said yes. First, I was absolutely honoured that I would be moderating the first of what sounded like a fantastic new series celebrating black women doing great things in the arts. Second, was the opportunity to be in conversation with Ireonosen Okojie - who I first met and had the pleasure of being in conversation about her debut novel, Butterfly Fish, at the 2015 Ake Festival in Nigeria. This time about her very weird and very wonderful collection of short stories, Speak Gigantular. 

Book Chat with Irenosen Okojie at Ake Festival 2015. Photo via Ake Arts & Book Festival

Third, was the space. I can't speak for any other type of salon, but there is certainly something about black, Caribbean and/or African hair salons. I actually didn't go to a salon until I was probably 15. Prior to that, my mum either did my hair or I got it braided (but never in a salon). Being at a salon for the first time as a teenager, I noticed that any and everything was up for discussion. The salon really is a space where individual stories about identity, beauty, modern life and more happen. 

I will be honest, I stopped going to salon's regularly in 2010 and in the last seven years I have had an on and off relationship with it. Although in the last six months, the salon and I have rediscovered ourselves, the one thing that remains constant all these years is the conversations, music, laughter, waiting, waiting, waiting and more that comes with hair salon day. So, taking part in Sunday Chill Sessions was a pretty easy decision for me to make. 

'All That Glitters' by Annie Lee

I did also ask Deborah Johnson her inspiration behind the event:

Afro hair salons are such culturally relevant spaces for black women. We go to beautify, but also such great conversations and discussions are had and I wanted to explore this further. With the Sunday Chill Sessions I’m using the salon space in the artistic sense of the word as meeting room for creative minds. 

Irenosen Okojie's Speak Gigantular is also a great collection to launch the series with, as we will be discussing black female identity and how Okojie's work challenges its traditional perceptions. This was also echoed by Deborah Johnson, who explained her feelings after reading the collection: 

I came across Irenosen’s work just over a year ago when I first picked up "Speak Gigantular". I was enthralled and excited by the nuances of her narratives in the collection. I'd never come across such  left of field work from a black female writer before and it hooked me. Mainly because I felt the “black literature” I’d previously been exposed to was always of a certain hilt. Slave related. Female characters depicted in typical ways that bored and offended me. I related to her offbeat approach and Irenosen’s voice came as a refreshing find as I think the way her work challengers typical depictions of black female identity are important. 

So if you're in or around London (or know someone who is), come chill with us this Sunday, and be part of the first of an informal and relaxed event centred on literature, the arts and more. It's 12 - 2pm and free - although donations are being accepted for Ignite Africa Library - a Nigerian charity dedicated to the creative and literary development of teenagers and young adults in Nigeria and beyond. More details can be found here.

With the sections on the Benin kingdom, Okojie created a stunning world with characters I was invested in: Adesua – who was ‘not fit for marriage and will embarrass the palace’, but who Oba Odion (the current king) was hell-bent on taking as wife number 8; king Oba Anuje – Odion's father and previous king; Odion's many different wives – including his third and favourite, Omotola; Sully - the stranger who waltzes into the kingdom, and whose presence leads to a dangerous liaison with Adesua. Then there was Ere, the craftsman, who was forced to carve a brass head in the likeness of the Oba’s rival – Ogiso. A brass head that was too close to Ogiso's image that for the Oba it seemed to wield an ‘unsettling power’. So he gave it to Adesua – lying that it was in honour of their marriage. A gift that caused a stir in the palace – the Oba showing favour to his new wife. A gift that stirred something elsewhere further afield, in the form of a spirit looking for its new home. A gift that a woman in modern day London, Joy, will one day inherit from her mother. 

View of Benin City in 1891. Image via Afritorial