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Coates grew up in a home and a world where consciousness in thought and deed was the ultimate reflection of what it means to be a human being, where books and papers surrounded him and reflected him. He sought other stories in comic books and novels. Baltimore in the ’80s demanded a different education of him, one where he was bored by teachers, fell asleep in class, walked through the streets assessing the landscape and the people incessantly, wary and aware that at any moment, at any time, he could be jumped and beaten for any number of imagined offenses by boys who looked like him. That world trained Coates to navigate violence with his body and his mind, pressured his inner self to become the man he is today, a man with a baby face and easy bearing whose looks belie the weapon within, a self honed to a scythe’s sharpness. Artists & Reviews 

The Beautiful Power of Ta-Nehisi Coates

With his groundbreaking nonfiction works, Ta-Nehisi Coates emerged as our most vital public intellectual. Now, his debut novel, The Water Dancer, takes him to uncharted depths. BY  JESMYN WARD PHOTOGRAPHY BY  ANNIE LEIBOVITZ AUGUST 6, 2019 Coates, photographed in Brooklyn.PHOTOGRAPH BY ANNIE LEIBOVITZ. When I meet Ta-Nehisi Coates, I am surprised. All of the photos I’ve seen of him are somber and inscrutable, but when I walk into the café where he’s suggested we meet, he’s not like that at all. He’s one of those people who looks young at any age:…

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On the city streets, a few police cars accompanied hospital ambulances as they made the rounds collecting dead bodies. Beyond that, the only other activity in the city was taking place up the hill, in the confines of the majestic Masonic Temple —constructed in the mode of nineteenth century American architecture with generously designed arched windows. There, high ranking officials of the government gathered for an urgent meeting. The officials, mostly men dressed in incongruous dark suits with long-tailed overcoats, wore discernible expressions of urgency on their faces. Society Arts & Leisure 

Reign of Disorder: A short story

  Momoh Sekou Dudu   On a hot and muggy Saturday in April, palpable tension drenched the air in Riceland’s capital, Williamsburg. At exactly noon, in defiance of strict government warnings, a few brave men assembled at the gates of the country’s flagship university. Soon, that early trickle of men was joined by hundreds and, eventually, thousands of other Ricelanders. As word spread of the unfolding situation at the university, all across the city, citizens gathered at other identified protest sites. The confrontation that had festered for so long seemed…

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This was a very meaningful conversation I had with my fellow Liberian writer, Eudora Aletta. So besides the political talks and photo ops, meeting Eudora who I have communicated with for years was one of the highlights of the convention for me. I hope to read and review her novel, The Wind of Change. Op-ed 

When I Met A Liberian writer, Eudora Aletta

Inter-Generational Transfer of Knowledge   The Editor, On the sideline of the 2019 Felmausa Convention, I had an enlightening conversation with fellow Liberian writer, Eudora Aletta. She is a Canada based multi-talented artist. She is a singer with a beautiful melody. She performed and wowed the crowd with her soulful melodious songs. Not only is she a singer, but she’s also a writer with a passion for social justice advocacy. Her current novel is titled, A Wind of Change. Her politic is Pan Africanism, inspired by the heroism of Pan…

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Op-ed 

TRIBUTE TO “CHINUA ACHEBE”

Achebe’s writings are truly a watershed moment for all of Africa   The Editor, Africans from all walks of life today are proud of the meaningful role Chinua Achebe played as a writer; his pan African books did much to awaken the consciousness of his peoples. If it wasn’t for Achebe narratives it would be hard to say where our literature would have been today, given that the imperialists’, were always interested in suppressing Africa’s and its people, while feeding us a one dimensional chronicle as a way of drowning…

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Politics Society Arts & Leisure 

Wayétu Moore: The Evolution of Bernice

By Wayétu Moore When I was ten years old I attended a sleepaway camp outside of Nacogdoches, Texas, where I told a few hundred people, with great pleasure, that my name was Bernice, not Wayétu. My family had only emigrated from Liberia five years prior, and for two weeks I basked in the glorious trope of American normalcy; a name like Bernice was proper, distinct, pronounceable. When I arrived home my father probed about my time away. After some banter he asked me: “What is your name?” I was caught….

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