I first learned about the Ebedi Writers’ Residence while reading up on Iseyin, months after I arrived in the town. A quiet sanctuary for writers, tucked away in a place better known for its handwoven Aso Oke than literary retreats, it felt almost mythical. But on a rainy afternoon, curiosity led me down its unmarked road.
The skies over Iseyin were grey and brooding, the kind of weather that brings stories closer to the surface. Light rain had been falling intermittently as I made my way through the quiet town toward the Ebedi Writers’ Residence, a name that has long echoed through Nigeria’s literary circles.
Tucked behind Amao Comprehensive College and fondly referred to as the White House by locals, the residence stands modestly behind the historic Iseyin District Grammar School, the oldest secondary school in the town. Though unassuming in appearance, the building has hosted some of the country’s most promising literary voices—writers whose careers have flourished after spending time within its creative walls.
Established in 2010, the Ebedi Writers’ Residence was conceived as a sanctuary for writers across Nigeria and Africa to create, reflect and engage with the rhythm of a culturally rich community. Located in Iseyin, a town in Oyo State known for its deep Yoruba heritage and centuries-old tradition of Aso Oke weaving, the residence bridges literature with local life.
The residency is the brainchild of Dr Wale Okediran, a medical doctor, novelist and former member of the House of Representatives. He envisioned a space where writers could work without distraction, free from the financial burdens and daily noise that often stifle creativity. What sets Ebedi apart is its self-funded, noncommercial model. Writers are not charged to stay and are only expected to give back through community engagement, often by hosting literary workshops or readings for students.
Since its establishment, the facility has hosted over 280 writers from 12 African countries. Alumni of the Ebedi Writers’ Residence include notable authors such as Ayobami Adebayo, Doreen Baingana and A. Igoni Barrett. Others who have passed through its doors include Richard Ali, TJ Benson, Troy Onyango, Peter Ngila, Adeola Opeyemi, Socrates Mbamalu, Dennis Mugaa, Ehizogie Iyeoma, Ikechukwu Nwaogu, Servio Gbadamosi, Muriola Awosemo, Abdullahi Lawan Kangala, Okwudili Nebeolisa, David Ishaya Osu, Blessing Christopher, Farida Adamu, Mariam Sule, Funke Awofeso, Kasimma Chinelo Okani, Temitope Shadiat Jimoh and Francis Grant Kwesi Gbormittah.
For many of them, Ebedi is more than a writing retreat; it is a crucible for creative rebirth. In its quiet corners, books have been drafted, poems written and ideas brought to life. It remains one of the few residencies in West Africa that provide uninterrupted time and space for literary work.
One of the primary objectives of the Ebedi Writers’ Residency is to promote African literature and provide a platform for emerging and established writers across the continent to hone their skills and amplify their voices. The residency welcomes writers working in various genres, including fiction, poetry, drama, nonfiction and children’s literature.
Iseyin itself moves at an unhurried pace, rooted in history and culture. Known for its artisanal craftsmanship, particularly the famed handwoven Aso Oke fabrics, the town has a calm but industrious character.
To find the Ebedi Writers’ Residence, I hopped on a commercial motorcycle, the quickest way through the town’s narrow streets. The single lane roads, busy but orderly, took us past familiar landmarks: banks like First Bank, Lotus Bank and UBA, their modern facades standing in contrast to the town’s rustic charm. A short while later, we passed Ace Mall, the town’s most popular shopping centre. The Iseyin Central Mosque soon followed, along with Oja Oba, the traditional market still pulsing with activity. Finally, we rode past Iseyin District Grammar School, a cornerstone of the town’s educational history.
At that point, my rider grew uncertain. He had never heard of the Ebedi Writers’ Residence. We turned down a rough, untarred road behind the school and continued toward Amao College. I asked for directions, and an elderly man pointed down the street.
“The White House,” he said. “That’s what we call it here.”
A quiet white painted building soon came into view. Modest and almost hidden in plain sight, it had no signpost—a surprising omission for a place of such cultural significance. The compound was fenced, and all three gates were locked from within. I walked along the perimeter, taking in the calm surroundings. Flowers and trees added colour to the quiet, creating a natural calm that was both inviting and humbling.
I knocked on one of the gates. A young woman came out and greeted me politely. She explained that the manager was not available and that access to the compound required prior approval. She was one of the writers currently in residence.
Though disappointed not to meet the manager, I was struck by the atmosphere. Even from outside, the space radiated peace and focus—a quiet retreat for writers immersed in work. It offers what many creatives deeply crave: time, solitude and space to think.
I had hoped to ask questions. Was there a library? What kind of writing activities take place within these walls? What resources are made available to residents? Though I left without answers, the visit gave me something else—perspective.
There is something quietly powerful about the Ebedi Writers’ Residence. Set away from the noise of daily life, it feels like a space carved out for thought and storytelling. In that stillness, I caught a glimpse of the kind of environment every writer hopes for: unhurried, undisturbed and intentional.
Even from outside its gates, the residence speaks. Not loudly, but with purpose—a reminder that creativity does not always need noise to thrive. Sometimes, it only needs space.
As I rode back through the winding streets of Iseyin, under skies still heavy with rain, I carried a quiet conviction with me. I will return one day. Maybe not just as a visitor, but as a writer, ready to sit with the silence and write.
