Africanvoices Stories

This is not fiction. This is a cry. It is a raw, unfiltered chronicle of Nigeria's rot, its elite silence, and the people's willful ignorance. Through the real-life trials of actress Iyabo Ojo and the tragic death of Mohbad, this commentary explores why justice is absent, why truth is hated, and why Nigerians might deserve their suffering. Read. Rage. Reflect.

"One Mistake Doesn't Destroy Nineteen Years" is a story about Rose, a young girl who learns the power of protecting her boundaries, even when faced with confusion, guilt, and deep gratitude toward someone she trusted. This story is followed by an open letter titled "Advice for Young Girls: Appreciating Without Losing Yourself" - a message of love and strength for every girl who has ever wondered how to say thank you without losing herself. It's a reminder that your body is not a currency, and true appreciation comes through your talents, growth, and heart - never through sacrifice.

(Part 4 - *When Tears Turned to Thunder*):* The silence was finally broken. In hugs, in tears, and in late-night talks - healing began. Ela's journey reminds us that fear fades when love listens.

The Festival of Broken Calabashes is a heartwarming cultural tale set in the vibrant village of Umuaka, where ancient traditions come alive in a celebration of renewal and unity. Each year, villagers gather to shatter calabashes symbols of pain, secrets, and the past to make room for healing, truth, and new beginnings. When Adaora, a spirited young woman with a burdened heart, returns home for the festival, she must confront her family's hidden wounds and the expectations of tradition. Through dance, song, and the rhythm of shattered calabashes, she discovers strength, identity, and the true meaning of freedom.

AFRICAN BURDEN by the voice of the soul. They came in ships, cloaked in crosses and crowns, Not to pray with us, but to prey on us. Not to teach us Truth, But to tear it from our Tongues. Chains kissed our wrists like venomous lovers. They ripped our fathers, beat drums out of our mother's breast, and called it Civilization. We bled gold into their coffers. Our diamonds crowned their queens, Our cocoa sweetens their tea, And still they called us Savages. They took our children, not just from wombs But from wisdom - Cut the roots of our languages, burned the libraries in our stories, Then asked why we were silent. In Ghana, in Congo, on plantations from Mississippi to Mauritius, We did not break We bent. Bent under bullets, bent under boots, bent under borders we never Drew, but carry on. They mapped our land, not to understand, But to mine it, divide it, devour it. But listen - Our rivers still run with memory. Our mountains whisper names They tried to erase. Africa is not a wound. She is a warrior. And though her back is burdened, Her spine still sings. We carry Pain, yes. But we carry drums too. Songs still echo in our scars, And our tears water the roots of the generation unbroken.

This book is brutal. It is not for the weak. It will offend you. It will question what you were taught. It will drag your pride and slap your excuses. But it will also show you the mirror - the one Africa has avoided for too long. If you are easily triggered, stop now. If you're ready to be reborn with fire and truth - keep reading. This isn't motivational. This is surgical.

She doesn't speak about what happened. Not directly. Not yet. She writes it instead in fragments, in whispers, in red. ROOTS is not a traditional memoir. It's a body remembering. A girl vanishing. A woman returning through poems, letters, and the ghosts that won't let her go. "Some stories ain't meant to be told straight. Some got to be danced outta the bones." Told in a voice that is part stage, part prayer, part scream, ROOTS invites you to listen closely, but don't expect answers. Only echoes.

A rural village setting with a modest crowd gathered outside a simple house. In the foreground stands the woman (the liar), slightly shadowed, holding a single baby. Her face is turned away, uncertain or secretive. The villagers, especially a group of Nalongo women in traditional attire, look confused or disappointed. Behind them, a woven basket lies open on the ground with nothing inside-symbolizing the "missing" snake-twin. The mood should feel tense yet emotional, capturing trust lost and the pain of disappointment.

Haunted by the memory of a tragic past, Leila Imani moves to a quiet town hoping to escape the shadows that follow her. But the old house she now calls home whispers secrets of its own and one ghost, in particular, won't let her be.

In a quiet village surrounded by deep woods, a young girl once vanished without a trace. But whenever someone was in need, a strange and beautiful butterfly would appear-gentle, watchful, and always helping in mysterious ways. Years later, a young family moves into an old house on the edge of the village. When the mother steps out for groceries, leaving her sleeping child behind with a baby monitor, something terrifying happens. Four strangers approach the house... and the baby suddenly disappears. But what the cameras reveal is something no one can explain-a glowing butterfly waking the child and leading her away into the overgrown garden. Is the spirit of the lost girl back to protect? Or is there more danger hiding in the woods?

Solo Fish" is a powerful, emotional journey that ties together real-life choices, silent mistakes, and second chances. Told through the stories of a reckless young man and the innocence of Kevin. the symbolic image of a fish crossing dry land to reach water, this story is a deep reflection on survival, temptation, betrayal, and redemption. From betrayal during intimacy to the painful realization of how myths can destroy lives, this story brings hard truths to light in a way that touches the heart. It is told to save lives-to reach those who need a voice in the silence, a warning in the noise. Do not follow the crowd into destruction. Be like the solo fish. Choose life.