photographed during the endsars protest in 2020, this image captures a moment when nigerian youths united to demand justice and reform. it reflects a generation’s longing for another nigeria; free, fair, and awake. we stood in the sun and the rain, demanding a country that listens. endsars was more than resistance; it was a glimpse of another nigeria, one led by courage and care.

for the new to come, the old must go

Shot on a mobile aspherical lens. original shot from the university of Ibadan Nigeria

Tales from nostalgia 

Egbiameje Omole performs Pankere in Glitter, a work confronting the traumatic and emotional stakes faced by non-binary and queer people in Nigeria under hostile legal and social regimes. In Yoruba, pankere refers to the cane once used by guarantors to discipline children, a symbol of the violence and regulation imposed on queer bodies from childhood through adulthood. Omole’s performance reclaims this memory, transforming it into a spectacle of resilience. By drawing on the legacy of cross-dressing and queer icons of the past, the work resists erasure and insists on presence. Captured on a mist-covered hill, their red, glittering outfit vibrates against the muted landscape. The movement appears frantic, almost ritualistic, an act of defiance against invisibility, a demand for recognition. This image embodies the weight of law on queer lives in Nigeria while celebrating the persistence of joy, survival, and visibility against the forces that seek to constrain them.

In Glitter III

Image shows native child of the displaced people of Tarkwa bay Island off the coast of Lagos. Once, the shores of Tarkwa Bay rang with laughter — children racing through the surf, learning, dreaming, living freely by the sea. Then came the eviction. Homes were destroyed, families scattered, and classrooms washed away like footprints in the tide. Even in displacement, their spirit endures. In makeshift shelters, they study by lantern light, determined to learn, to rise. This photograph captures not just play, but defiance — a reminder that though their world was taken, their hope still runs wild and unbroken, like the ocean that raised them.

Children of the tide 01

A young child holding a placard with a 'no to malaria' sign at an internally displaced people's camp during an outreach.

Zero Malaria

My favorite part of any durbar festival is this, the procession of warriors. A lot of people witness the durbar and only enjoy the visual spectacle, but they do not understand the significance of it all. Everything that happens at the durbar, happens for a reason. We have read so much about ancient warfare, seen many movies, but right here at the durbar ground is the closest you’ll ever come to experiencing that atmosphere of ancient battle. And God! It is daunting. These men are warriors, and they have come to salute the king. There’s so much to learn from their entrance, and even their dressing. Their numbers alone will have you shook, then the bows, the arrows, the smell of gunpowder, the smoke, the dust that escorts them. All of these would intimidate and disorient any enemy. They arrive in an ominous cloud of their own making. Their attires have black in them, so when they march in close formation and in such large numbers, they cast a shadow, the place all of a sudden, looks eerily dark. Add the thunderous sounds of the Dane guns, and the recipe is complete. These are the men who rode, and marched to defend kingdoms and to fight for territory. There are only about a thousand men in these photos, and look how strong an entrance they make. In the days of queen Amina of Zazzau, they used to be hundreds of thousands of them. Now imagine what it must have looked like, when they marched against an enemy. No wonder she won so many battles. If na you, you go stand?

The procession of warriors

Captured in Maryland, Lagos, this image portrays a woman in blue Ankara and a raffia hat, arranging her crafts with quiet confidence. It reflects Another Nigeria, one defined by everyday creativity, patience, and purpose. Her work becomes a language of resilience, showing that what is made in her hands also shapes the heart of the nation

Made in Her Hands

 The eye is not so naive as to think that the academia has a working conscience. The eye knows the academia in this university commission the felling of trees. The eye is baffled at their reasons but it knows it is for greed. The eye had no idea that the tree would be felled months after this picture was taken. The eye dedicates this picture to the felled tree, the trees felled overnight at Heritage Park and all trees felled without legitimate reasons, without sustainable replacements. ‎

The Tree Pledges Before It Is Removed.

The eye knows Ben Enwonwu. The eye knows Tutu. The eye knows Tutu is one of Nigeria's treasures. The eye translates, reenacts the painting into image. The eye knows the woman here i.e the subject might not be called Tutu. The eye follows the subject on a road in Òkè Ìbàdàn. Tutù here is the kind of Sankofa that has seen enough of what is behind. This Tutù is looking forward, at the road, at changes.

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