Still on Break, But Had to Share This: Reflections on Dream Count

Yes, I’m still on a break. But I’m dropping by because I’m excited to share that last month, when Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was in Helsinki, our Finnish-African Society’s chair, Sarah Laaru had a fascinating conversation with the author about her book, Dream Count. My Finnish friends, check out Otava for the Finnish translation, Unelmia!

My biggest takeaway from the interview is the quote below:


Don’t apologise, don’t water it down. Don’t think, if I write about this, the Western audience will not understand. Let’s tell the truth of our experience. Let’s not worry about writing what we think they want to read.” – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Following the interview, I’ve co-authored an article “Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Women’s Health, Truth-Telling, and the African Diasporic Voice in Dream Count,” with our chair. This is my first co-authored work ever. Because two heads are better than one, particularly when tackling a book as exceptional as Dream Count. Anyway, I’ll let you be the judge!

And of course, I have to thank my fellow African authors living and writing in Finland; the FALA Network. We read the book, brainstormed and developed questions for this meaningful interview.

So, if you are a fan of Adichie’s work or enjoy listening to author interviews visit Finnish-African Society to listen and read. You’ll find the audio interview at the bottom of the page if you don’t see it right away.

Happy Reading!

p.s. featured image of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie by Victor Ayertey.

It Was Summer

It was summer when a nameless writer finally packed her tools away. At last, the character she’d been writing for was content. With countless years spent working on a useless story, the writer wanted to double-check what she’d just heard.

“So, this is it, right?”

“Great job,” said the character, looking at the writer’s calloused hands. “You deserve a break.”

A clear “yes” was what the writer wanted, and the break suggestion felt like an evasion. The writer inhaled deeply before turning to face the demanding protagonist.

“Look, as you insisted, I’ve written this story to the end.”

“Don’t get hung up on deadlines… But you’re almost there,” said the character.

“You asked for this story, so I wrote it. That’s it for me.”

“What’s the point of all this,” the character asked, “if no one’s ever going to read it? We need to think of ways to get the story in front of the readers.”

The writer scoffed, incredulous that such a young character could be so authoritative.

“We? No. That was not part of the deal,” said the writer. “Besides, who needs to read about the past? We now live in the post-apartheid era.”

The character stared pensively out of the window for a while, then turned to face the writer.

“Ever heard of wing moult?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“My dad used to say we need rest, just like swans take time to shed damaged feathers and grow new ones.”

“I don’t want to grow feathers—I just want to be done with this story.”

“Okay. And about your question,” the cheeky character said, “this story matters. I can give you all the reasons for its relevance. .”

“Yeah? Give me one!”

“Politics or money force people to move or live apart, even today. And who suffers the most?”

“Huh! Are we talking about migration and displacement within borders?”

“We’re talking about families and much more.”

“Ah, families… now that’s interesting!”

“See? I told you to take a break!” said the character, smiling. “You’ll come back with new wings.”

Image of a swan sleeping

note: It’s summer in Europe; a time to live a little! 🙂 So, I’m off blogging for a bit. I’ll be back in autumn. Wishing you a joyful time, no matter the season!

Later, my friends! ♥

Home Is a Moving Thing

I was told to write about my preoccupation. For once, I don’t want to resist, edit my emotions, or ruminate endlessly about the state of the world. ‘Cause there’s untamed freedom outside, defying constraints of a poetic form.

It’s not the starlings with their soft, murmuring calls that fill this April morning. A chorus of urgent needs and affections swells around me. Birds soar, hover, and glide in an aerial ballet. I’m awestruck by the power of the collective. Yet each bird is an independent flier guided by stars and winds across oceans. The air itself vibrates with energy. Each wingbeat pulls me into a peaceful vortex, a calm amidst chaos.

Image of a Common Goldeneye

note: Bird-spotting is an activity that fills me with a sense of awe and joy. Nature, though, is not only delightful but also a brilliant teacher.

Today’s post draws inspiration from this year’s bird migration. The complete piece appears on da-AL’s blog, HappinessBetweenTails. Head over to read and join the conversation!