On our annual publishing break, Gaza’s genocide continues to unfold in real time yet slips from public grasp. This is not just a crisis of politics, but of how reality is mediated—and why we must build spaces where meaning can still take root.
On our year-end publishing break, we reflect on how 2024’s contradictions reveal a fractured world grappling with inequality, digital activism, and the blurred lines between action and spectacle.
On our annual publishing break, we ask: if the opposite of “weird” is normal, what if normal is equally problematic?
On our year-end publishing break, we consider: what is the work and role of little magazines like our own?
On our annual publishing break, we’ll be pondering what the responsibility of the African intellectual is today.
It's time for our annual end of the year publishing break.
For the 10th anniversary of the Marikana massacre, we are planning a public event on August 20th to reflect on its legacies.
Every year, around this time, we take a month long break from publishing. We need it.
What a year. Stay safe, wear a mask, social distance and when the vaccine becomes available where you are, get vaccinated.
We are on our annual publishing break until August 28th. Please check our Twitter and Facebook pages for posts and updates until then.
We are not just marking the end of 2019, but also the end of a momentous, if frustrating decade for building a more humane, caring future for Africans.
Don't worry, we'll cook up some stuff for the fall and we'll be back on September 1. In the meantime, you can go potter around the website and catch up on our archive.
The year that Prince Akeem, Queen Aoleon, King Jaffe Joffer and the "African" Kingdom of Zamunda made a spectacular comeback.
We are taking a collective break from blogging until Thursday, January 10th to give us a
If you’re wondering where we are (if you don’t read through to the end of posts)
By the time you read this I’ll be on my way to Cape Town, via Amsterdam.