1. Let me re-introduce myself. My name is Carl Terver, founder and editor of the literary magazine, @Afapinen (https://t.co/m0sVtMwCd3)
Starting today, I shall begin a 100-day of funding campaign for my magazine.
2. Afapinen began publication since 2021, with great success so far. I have published over 100 critical essays, some of which made it to “Best Essays of the Year” lists. Many of our writers debuted in Afapinen and their experience from this has taken them further in their careers.
This keys into my vision “to platform new voices in critical writing on visual art, literature, and music, in defining a new age.”
3. So far, I have achieved this from pocket.
But one of the major problems facing literary magazines, especially in the continent, is the lack of funding. I, too, suffer the same fate.
4. I am doing this funding campaign so that “I don’t go home,” but go harder—to deliver better, and to expand my magazine’s potential and vision.
If you see this on your timeline, whether you are into arts or not, this is about supporting a Nigerian dream.
It may be difficult to understand what a literary magazine does in the larger society, but it matters so much in the long run. We document history.
5. Support your local cultural entrepreneurs. Support literature. Support Afapinen. Share this post. Mention anyone in the CS you think can support.
I love you all. Thank you in advance.
2 options to send support:
a. Use our secured Paystack page here: https://t.co/3rcKHQsPuw
b. Make a direct bank transfer to:
6740744975
Afapinen Media Enterprise
Moniepoint Microfinance Bank
If you are partial to crypto, here is a Bitcoin address: bc1q7jcuxs3usm6h6z2tp7g56ucpde8ahuha8adsyt
#Day1AFC
"To walk through a city, decades after its stories were first told, is to walk inside a memory so intact it lets us believe we are the first to dream here."
https://t.co/TqLXrgiKyC
@OmolewaAbraham I think some of you need to understand that you could be aromantic. This is one of their typical behaviours. Not big on showing ceremonial affection but still loving at heart.
"Writers and critics cannot afford to be neutral observers or defenders of ancient bigotries masked as “artistic freedom.” They must be the watchdogs on the prowl. They must defend the sanctity of human life and identity against the encroachment of backwardness. Even within the theological frameworks these conservative critics claim to revere, they misread their own texts. They forget that when Christ defended the woman caught in adultery against the reactionary conservatives of his day, he was recognising her fundamental humanity as an exploited proletariat within a brutal system."
https://t.co/gAPxWCoBPj
Preaching that God has assigned black people to "a civilizational station of subordination and dependence" due to the Curse of Ham, Christian nationalist pastor Dale Partridge calls for a "return to European Christian colonization of African nations." https://t.co/fmXimncly7
We have jumped on the Husband is Useless train because it is moving at immense speed. If you want to purchase your copy of Husband is Useless by @Chinkemkasimma
Hurry now before we sell out. We deliver within Enugu, nationwide, and even internationally 😂
#bookstore#bookhaul
I want to say some things now, but I will just keep to myself. One thing I can say to Africans is this:
When you realise that there is a thing line between religion and delusion, you would stick to the one thing that is concrete in any religious discourse: where you’re from.
@IfeomaIgbotic People really have comprehension issues. Lol. In these states Igbos have original indigenes or settled there a long time ago. Also, the splitting of states made smaller groups become a part of another state that isn't dominantly Igbo.
'Have you heard people say “love happens”? I have heard it so many times and used it a lot as well. There’s something very interesting about love: sometimes, it takes you unaware. Other times, you swear you will never go back to it but end up right in it. I guess that counts as the complexities of love. “I Hate Love Poems” is a poem where the persona has tasted sweet and ugly and, somehow, still wants a taste of it, over and over again. How can you like what you hate? It’s unexplainable!'
https://t.co/jCVrtsnQAB
"This is the perfect and last memory I had of Bad Nigga: It was after school, and all of us, throng of students in blue and white uniforms splashed on the brown road, walking under the sun. We had just passed the house of a senior with a long surname, when some students began stopping ahead some of us, lingering for the expectation of something. Someone close to me said a senior was about to be beaten by the born-soils. Truly, a boy who sat on a bike under a mango tree began to approach a set of students—that was when I saw Bad Nigga too, in a black jacket too expensive for any of us, his mates, to afford then, trailing the guy we later heard was an elder relative of his. Now, Bad Nigga was no longer a student in our school; he’d dropped out a term earlier, rumoured to have enrolled in some other school. But we kept seeing him, dressed fly, riding into our school during games hour in a Honda Super Cub."
https://t.co/jislXskjKW
"When it’s all being said and done, Ocho’s imagination is ecological in some sense. Grief is not just human. It is cosmic. The world mourns with us. Water runs through the collection as witness and participant. It swallows myths. It remembers crossings. Rivers sing. Owls mourn. Water carries memory. It is not surprising for a poet who “sings water.” To sing through grief is not to escape it. It is to refuse silence. Oko Owi Ocho has written a collection that insists on remembering: remembering language, ancestors, rivers, faith, and love. And in that remembering, he reminds us: no matter how far history scatters us, there is still a song that knows the way home."
https://t.co/eWFQstZyg3