About Us

With a heavy heart, I ask again where humanity has gone Tell me when did it gathered its Belongings Packed its bags Zipped them up and slipped away from our midst, leaving us with nothing but Only hollow corridors echoing what used to be there The question still stands: Where has humanity gone? Was it stolen in the dusk of the day? OR Did we, at our own will, give it away, with our own hands, Cast it aside like something burdensome no longer convenient to carry Where is our h

The fire burned, and the issues tackled in every sector came alive through the 2026 Africa Day themed "Danji" - The Duality of Fire

Isadora’s radiant smile ushers guests into the sombre atmosphere of the auditorium. The faces of each graduate are washed with tears racing down their cheeks as Jessica stands in a draping midnight dress. She embraces guests, one after the other, folding beautiful goodbyes into the evening. In the auditorium foyer, students in mismatched pajamas stand still, looking through teary eyes at the emerald gems dancing across Adelei’s dress, knowing it may be their last. The guests

Flight, fight, fail. The overwhelming agony of being bullied by a Chemistry assessment finds relatively little appeal amongst the general ALA populace. Although some of us would be better of selling mangoes of the N1, here's why coaches at ALA do what we do.

The author argues that the greatest enforcers of the patriarchy are equally those oppressed by it, so to challenge it we must deconstruct our own world view

I learned that my father died from a Facebook notification. Not a phone call. Not someone sitting beside me. A notification. One message on a screen, and my life split into before and after. I thought this was the end of it. I truly did. But it was just the beginning, the beginning of a long fight to believe that I deserve to exist. Three weeks after my father’s death, my half-siblings forced my mother and me out of our home. Grief had not even had time to settle. I w

There is a rage I feel, an indescribable undercurrent etched into the pathway of my bones. This intrinsic fury that I was born with, my infantile fist clutched around it like my mother's umbilical cord. The world has reinforced it, from the first time I was catcalled when I was twelve, the first time I bleed for sins not entirely my own, the first time I felt oppressed by patriarchy in my own home. This rage is my closest friend, my most intimate confidant; I know it better t

My name is Ethan Mwangi from Rwanda and Kenya. To clarify, I am Kenyan by blood and birth, and I just reside in Rwanda. Despite not having any formal identification to prove I am Rwandan at all, it is where I have grown into the person I am today, and without it, I would not be who I am. But it was never like that. When I first moved to Rwanda, I struggled. My first term was honestly one of the hardest periods of my life. No one gives you a manual on how to make friends in a

Sometimes it is hard to breathe. The weight of life can burn our lungs and squeeze our hearts until they are completely crushed. The only thing that has been keeping my heart from failing lately is the wind, the breeze that makes me think of home, of the friends I left behind, of the ocean I haven’t touched in months, and of the joy I used to feel unconditionally, which has now faded, leaving space for the emptiness that fills my heart. The wind is not always enough, because

Queen Araweelo, also known as Ebla Awad, is a powerful figure in the history of Somaliland. She is remembered for her strong leadership in early historical periods, and her legacy lives on in present day, primarily through oral traditions. Her story is not only about rule and power, but also serves as a symbol of the vital role women have played, and continue to play in leadership, despite living in patriarchal societies. She was a courageous young woman who defended the dign

My name is Mahara. I am a Year 2. And before I say anything else, I want to make one thing very clear. I am not up here because I have everything figured out. I am up here because I survived. Barely. But still, survived. I remember the day I arrived at ALA. I stepped onto this campus with my bags, my dreams, and let's be honest, a very dangerous amount of confidence. My old school was nothing like this. Back home, I knew how everything worked. I had my people, my rhythm, my w