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Sky Held Up by a Thousand Minarets
On this train ride back to his beginnings, Shettima’s mind overtook the train to another river in his memory, a river long and meandering as his days.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhir raj’un: From Allah we come and to him we shall return
insha AllahWhat Ado did not have to say was the other reason he was calling: It was time now for Shettima to come home.
Gwobe de nisa
Gaishe ka,insha Allah
The lights in Tofa flickered and went out. It had stopped raining. It crept into Shettima’s mind now how quiet it was and how dark, how cold he was and how strange it was that he’d been walking in water up to his knees. The cow mooed again, and Shettima placed it, to his left, a white mass against the dark, keeping pace with him. He stopped and turned; the cow stopped, too. They regarded each other.
Kenechi Uzor was born in Nigeria. His writing has been included in anthologies and has appeared in Electric Literature, The Millions, Catapult, Litro Magazine, Maple Tree, Blue Monday Review, Brittle Paper, and others. He has worked as an editor, a journalist, a librarian, and a publisher. The winner of the 2020 Scowcroft Prose award, Kenechi is also a 2020 Tin House Scholar and has received residency/ fellowship awards from Ebedi International Residency, the Dee Artists’ Colony. Kenechi Uzor teaches writing at the University of Utah where he is rounding up an MFA degree.
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This Hell Not Mine: On Moving from Nigeria to America
“This is where I’ve come, to the America of lights and dreams. And if I am better off I cannot tell.”
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Self-Defense in a World of Bots
Being attacked by a human man nowadays seems quaint.
Dog Bites Man, New Jersey, 1884
I had been unquestioningly loyal to Himself even after he killed my mother.
Bartending on a Captainless Ship
Captains are always making you think you’re secure and happy and then bam, you’re capsizing with an iceberg in your rearview mirror.