Wana Udobang, also known as Wana Wana, is a Nigeria-based poet, journalist, documentary filmmaker, radio presenter and tv personality, whose production is at the intersection of women’s rights, social justice, healthcare, climate change, culture and the arts. Born in Lagos, she then graduated in the UK with a first-class Degree in Journalism. The experience in…
Last Supper
Lay me soft on green grass like an offering. Take off my clothes one at a time like you are opening the Holy Book. Read the verses of my body until you master all chapters. Drink from my river of life Make me your altar wine your last supper. Welcome to my ecclesia! Let’s sing…
Beauty in Brokenness
Write about your brokenness This is what My heart whispers to me every time I try to create something beautiful. How ironic because most of my life I’ve been trying to find wholeness so I can finally feel beautiful. But what is beauty? Is there a formula that determines what we can classify as beautiful?…
The Honey Pot
Amina soaps up her breasts, her thighs and her derriere Amina squats and washes her honey pot it doesn’t produce much honey these days Amina washes the suds from her hair and skin She has used the expensive rose-scented bath oil that Fiifi gave to her on her birthday He likes it Amina dries herself…
A Woman’s Chapters
In my earliest chapters, I have been taught A young maiden should be clean, House chores are her field of expert the front porch defines you my dear In my younger chapters, I have been warned Your skirt matches your behavior A woman’s place is beside her man Your breasts shall carry your man And…
Third Eye Blinded
I see energy third eye blinking placing spirits into their constellations. We are all connected. See lines connecting dots Its umbilical intuition. Walk into realms with my spiritual feet the reality of reality is but a distant memory. I spare walk through corridors I pay no heed to the drum drum drum of monotony. See…
A Kind Of Architectural Grief
In the place of slaughter blood stains are not an anomaly. Normally, the stain of love begins with a government’s betrayal, a sacrilegious feast on the battered dreams of migrant workers chimurenga wars and forgotten anthems of freedom. a salary and a salt plea for…
Take me to the river
We say “take me to the river”but what the river wants is the body of a stonethe kind of stillness that can be worn.It runs from its destructive natureand we run to its healing waters. What the mouth wants is wetnessa torrent of forgivenessto baptise flesh with abandon. We sing of the rivers of Babylonand…
Fast Phrases
Sun bleached white door curtain invites rest, To the hours spent on my butt now numb. Ducks waddling defecating the backyard Us on a mat them centimeters apart Eight hands are expertly pinching extensions to my scalp A humble courtyard with five rooms A commotion of tenants and the landlord ‘Bibi Dina’ The entrance is…
Good Morning Kampala
Clouds are racing above Kampala Sunrise peeps from the head of its hilly protrusions. Suddenly, rapid gun fire exchange invades our atmosphere Heavy feet scamper to find footing on our broken roads “Hooligans are demanding for change!” They say. Arrows of rain armed with hail stones join in the human pelting But you Rain where…