A Storyteller’s Pursuit of The Contradictory and Ordinarily Absurd

Yinka Olatunbosun

“I write and build worlds because I want to see them exist,” Zulaikhah Agoro said, leaning into the thought as though weighing each word. “I’m usually drawn to the unconventional, the things that should exist but somehow haven’t been done yet.”

For Agoro, storytelling began not as a grand declaration of purpose but as a way of thinking out loud, of processing life and reimagining it. In the early days, she wrote about experiences that struck and stuck with her; the ones she lived and the ones she overheard. Over time, those private explorations widened into a pursuit of narratives that had yet to take form, stories some might even dismiss as “too niche.”

One of those stories became New Rules, her contribution to Taboo, an anthology by Illino Magazine (now Kokonut Head Media) in 2021. “The theme was Taboo, and that’s exactly where you’re not supposed to go,” she recalled with a laugh. Instead of writing a typical tale of gods and magic, Agoro twisted history itself. What if Yoruba traditional religion had remained dominant, and Christianity had to be practiced covertly? “The concept of blasphemy in church is always related to questioning God’s supremacy. I wanted to challenge that, but not in a confrontational, head-on way but more like a quiet whisper from the back pews.”

The piece struck a chord. Months later, the editor returned with an idea: to expand New Rules into an audio drama. That project, now in development, has pushed Agoro deeper into colonial archives and missionary records. “At first, it was just a ‘what if’ story. But the more I research, the more I realize how much a single shift could have altered the very fabric of society, not just how we worship, but who we become.”

Her fascination with hinge points of history found a fitting anchor in Oba Kosoko of Lagos, a ruler who resisted British and missionary advances in the mid-19th century. “Kosoko was selfish and cunning, but powerful. His Lagos could have changed everything. Once he was gone, the cycle turned differently. He’s my sounding board for where to push the story.”

It is no accident that Agoro is drawn to figures like Kosoko; morally complex and deeply human. “My favorite characters have always been the ones in the grey: Draco Malfoy from the Harry Potter series, Azula from Avatar The Last Air Bender, even Greg Heffley in Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” she admitted. “I think they represent the deepest truth of humanity. Heroes are burdened by always doing the right thing. But the flawed ones, they’re closer to us.” This fascination, she says, echoes the Yoruba pantheon itself, filled with gods of temper, indulgence, and contradiction.

The thread of contradiction runs throughout her work. In July 2024, she published No Peace in a Lagos Bus in Efiko Magazine, a narrative essay that chronicled three extraordinary bus rides in one day. From a salesman hawking a charm against bad luck, to a whispered breakup between two women, to a fugitive slipping into the bus mid-police chase, the essay distilled the absurdity and tenderness of Lagos life. “From the first ride, I knew I’d stumbled into another world,” she said. “I was fascinated. I think I’m always hunting for that quality—moments too immense to ignore.”

Her eye for the unusual extends beyond the page. As Publishing Manager at AFREADA, a literary magazine spotlighting African stories, Agoro anchored campaigns to amplify African literature across the continent and diaspora. “For the first time, I felt like a producer in the film world. I was curating behind the scenes, moving pieces around, driving attention where it should go,” she said. It shifted her lens, teaching her that there is no such thing as the African story. “We can’t wrap 54 countries’ realities into one narrative. That idea itself is a stereotype. Now I write with more confidence in my own perspective, knowing it’s just one voice in a vast chorus.”

These days, Agoro’s vision stretches into new media. Beyond writing essays and audio drama, she is returning to an old love: comics. “Growing up I adored Supa Strikas and Archie. Now I want to use that medium to tell stories of everyday absurdity, the contradictions I see all around.” She is currently working on her debut long-form work, a middle-grade graphic novel with a major publisher. Though she cannot yet reveal details, the process has already opened new doors in her creative journey.

When asked what she hopes readers and listeners will take from her work, Agoro paused before answering. “I always want people to feel something in them nudge alive,” she said finally. “Not because I think of myself as some great literary writer, but because I want them to see themselves. To look at a line, a moment, a panel and say, ‘hey, that’s me.’”

In the end, whether it’s through prose, audio, or panels of ink and color, Agoro remains committed to creating the things that should exist but don’t yet, the worlds too immense and alive to ignore.