Author: Yahuza Abdulkadir

i would write how my mother grew a garden of rose flowers how she turned the sands in Mallam Joda into mud houses. that year i was fifteen when i saw my friend’s body melting inside the waters of Ramin Tifa. i would write about Sabon Gari who swore never to answer a boy who doesn’t know how to call a knife. inside a standing mirror in Sabon Layi i saw a boy running to collect bullets for his friend to shoot his stars into the galaxies of women. i saw homeless children roaming the streets of Doruwa without knowing…

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