My Name Is Chika
My name is Chíkà. I love my name. If you want to get an idea of what it means, you can look it up here on Wikipedia. It’s made of […]
Category Archives: Personal
I’m back!
Hi friends. It’s been quite a while since I lasted posted here. But not to worry, I’m back! Once a week, I’ll share something that you: a work of art, an article I read, a story I wrote, a piece of fashion, music, whatever. So, here it goes. The hiatus is over. Thank you for visiting.
10 Stories I Want to Write In The Near Future
I’m always looking for a good story. I already have a lot of ideas on my brain shelf that I want to pursue journalistically. It’s just a matter […]
Becoming Nigerian Part 1: One Year In
This is part 1 of my series ‘Becoming Nigerian’ I flew into Abuja, Nigeria on a Lufthansa aircraft in December 2012. It’s been one year, a year of profound personal […]
Jacarandas and Children: Reflections on Tanzania
It’s been exactly three weeks since I left Tanzania and my mind is pregnant with vivid thoughts. I must deliver. On an excursion made possible by the International Reporting Project […]
It Happened To Me
I got a job in New York City a few years ago. I was new to the American North; I still reeked of the South. Pillsbury biscuits, Georgian peaches and […]
Hair Your Way: The Politics of Negro Gals’ Hair
“Spiritual” is what he said my hair makes me look. Then, he said “Chika,” Nigerians would “be a little afraid of you.” Chimamanda Adichie was right. Discussing her latest novel, […]
Recollections of Chinua Achebe, the African Lion Who Told Our Story
I was blessed to meet Professor Achebe on several occasions, twice at conferences where he was the keynote speaker. First at West Chester University of Pennsylvania, at the Conference Across […]
The Way You Make Me Feel: My Ode To Highlife
He came close, like danger. And nearly stole my heart, nearly snatched it out of its pulsating cavity. But he didn’t use his hands. He used the lazy groans of […]
Conquering Witches, Corruption And Armed Robbers
My brother propped his coarse-haired arms on the seat’s leather armrest and shook his head. “I don’t think you should go, Chika. But no one listens to me,” he said. […]
Afrocentric Confessions 