ARTISTIC TRIBE

NCWS Oyo Congratulates Hannah Ogunesan, Other Victorious Female Aspirants Across Political Parties The National Council of Women’s Societies (NCWS), Oyo State Chapter, has congratulated Mrs. Hannah Olawumi Ogunesan and other female aspirants who emerged victorious in the recently concluded All Progressives Congress (APC) primary elections in Oyo State. In a statement issued by the President of NCWS Oyo State, Mrs. Kikelomo Olu Oyelade, the council described the victories as a positive development for women’s inclusion and participation in politics. NCWS noted that the emergence of women in different elective positions reflects the growing impact of female leadership and renewed confidence in women seeking public office. Particular congratulations were extended to Mrs. Hannah Olawumi Ogunesan, who emerged victorious in the APC primary for Oyo North Senatorial District. According to the council, the success recorded by female aspirants should serve as encouragemen...

OUR CHILDREN WERE TAKEN: NCWS Oyo Appeals for Safe Release of Abducted Students, Teachers The National Council of Women’s Societies (NCWS), Oyo State Chapter, has appealed to the Federal Government, Oyo State Government, security agencies, and relevant stakeholders to intensify efforts toward the safe release of students and teachers abducted during the recent attack on schools in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State. In a statement issued by the President of NCWS Oyo State, Mrs. Kikelomo Olu Oyelade , the council expressed concern over the incident involving Community Grammar School and L.A. Primary School in Ahoro-Esinele, as well as First Baptist Nursery and Primary School, Yawota. According to the statement, several students and teachers were affected during the attack, a development NCWS described as painful and deeply troubling. The organisation appreciated the ongoing efforts of the Federal Government, Oyo State Government, security agencies, community leade...

Marriage Is Overrated "Marriage"(n.): Legally after 18, socially at 25, economically after 30, logically never. And yet. The flowers arrive. The cake nobody actually wanted. The relatives who cry for reasons only they understand. The vows which are essentially a legally binding promise to split the thermostat argument for the rest of your life. At 18 you sign anything. Love is a document you read with your chest and not your eyes. At 25 the aunties win. Not because they are right  but because they are " present " and relentless and they know where you live. At 30 you do the math. Two incomes, one rent, shared subscriptions, the economics of loneliness finally outweighed by the economics of " us " And logically? Logically, it makes no sense  two people promising forever in a world where forever averages about eleven years before someone,  changes the Netflix password. Nobody tells you about the Tuesday. The one where love sits across from you in...

The Living Dead What death hath claimed, no mortal hand may slay, For I have dwelt in darkness long before This flesh was bidden to endure the day, And breathe the air my hollow lungs abhor. Mine eyes do open, yet mine eyes are closed, This heart doth beat, though long it ceased to feel, A borrowed life, in counterfeit reposed, A wounded soul concealed behind appeal. For she who bore me weeps not at my grave, And so I wear this flesh as one wears grief — A masquerade, a show that she may save Her tender heart from sorrow's sharp relief. So let no blade, no poison, flame, nor fall Presume to end what Death hath long since called.

A Broken Heart I wake before the sun remembers its duty, With plans folded neatly inside my chest, Skills sharpened like tools in a worker’s box, Yet no door waits for my knock. My hands know labour, My mind knows creation, I have learned, unlearned, relearned— Still, opportunity walks past me As though I am invisible air. Three months stretch like dry seasons, Days counting themselves in silence, Bills whisper louder than prayers, And hope now negotiates with doubt. They say work hard, I did. They say be patient, I am. But patience grows heavy When effort bears no harvest. I am not lazy— Only stranded. Not unskilled— Only unseen. Standing at life’s marketplace With value nobody seems ready to buy. Each rejection writes its name Across my confidence, Until even mirrors begin to ask If diligence is enough. Yet somewhere beneath this tired heart Innovation still breathes— Bruised, yes, But refusing burial. Because I know storms do not ask permission Before they pass, And even...

Dawn broke over Zanzibar on the morning of 27th August 1896, but the island did not wake to peace. A thick tension hung in the humid air , the kind that whispers that history is about to shift. Inside the grand, white-walled palace, Sultan Khalid bin Barghash stood defiant, surrounded by loyal guards and the thunderous heartbeat of anxiety. He had claimed the throne overnight, but the British Empire, anchored just beyond the harbor, had come to reclaim it. By 8:55 AM, British warships , iron giants with cannons trained on the palace , waited in icy silence. The ultimatum ticked toward its final minute. Inside, Khalid refused to kneel. Outside, Britain prepared to roar. 9:00 AM. The deadline shattered. And so did the peace. With a sound that ripped through the morning sky, the British fleet opened fire. Cannons boomed. Walls crumbled. Smoke curled upward like dark serpents. The palace trembled, windows exploding into dust and shards of memory. The Sultan’s royal yacht Glasgo...