Grey Matters

Here is an article I wrote for publication in the newspaper, as one part of my contribution towards the #childnotbride movement.   Unlike my previous emotional outburst this articulates my perspective and, in my opinion, situates the problem. This was meant to be an article articulating my perspective on the #ChildNotBride ‘movement’. It still is. However, this is also an explanation to those who said we did not understand the constitution or the clause in question; we were unaware of why we were signing a petition, and were making fools of ourselves. This is for all of them.   Before I proceed, a little caveat: this is a straight forward piece written in simple English. There are too many people in Nigeria ‘blowing big big grammar’ on television, on the internet and in print (and see where we still are) I do not intend to join them. My point can best be illustrated using stories; I have three of them. When I was in Secondary school, my parents enrolled me in ...

I was awake when the verdict was read. It was about 4 am and Piers Morgan had tweeted that people should tune in to CNN as the jury had come back. I already knew that Zimmerman would be free but when they declared him 'not guilty', I was gutted. I did not sleep till about 7 am or so, furiously tweeting my anger, and retweeting those who shared the same sentiments, or arguing with those who didn't. How shallow, and blind and evil and callous could these white Americans be? How could Zimmerman be free? Even the day after, I was still blinded with rage! A 17 year old boy, I thought! Jesus! I was ecstatic when New Yorkers went on a protest march towards Times Square. I zealously retweeted pictures and the commentary of Lola Ogunnaike. Finally something was being done about this injustice... Then it occurred to me A few days prior to the ruling, 46 (FORTY SIX) secondary school children had been brutally murdered in Yobe state. Reports from Aljazeera (Aljazeera oh!)  said ...

I loved 234 next. I was a zealot for the paper. And when I moved home and could not buy it anymore I religiously read their online version. Until the sad day when they pulled the plug and turned out the spark of hope they had hitherto lit in the hearts of Nigerians. I had several favourites (writers) in 234Next; Ikhide Ikhalose, Rukky Ladoja, Dele Olojede (sometimes), and Tokini Peterside are names that readily come to mind. But by far my best ever writer was Yemisi Ogbe. Yemisi Ogbe! Where do I begin? That lady wrote about food and condiments like she had an intimate, private relationship with them. I am a foodie, and consequently, an avid reader of food blogs, and viewer of cooking shows, but I have never seen any food writer so enamoured  with Nigerian food, and so expressive of it, with such a rapturous passion akin to a new member in a religious sect. When she wrote about say, tomatoes, you were introduced to them anew; she would tell a story about her interaction with a ...

Life can be ridiculously tough for a lot of people, and incredibly cruel. You attempt to rise and you are beaten down, mauled and trampled on. Then left for dead. And if you are stupid enough to try to rise again the process is repeated till you get the message. You just keep catching curve balls with spiked edges, and you are expected to make it a fun game. And sometimes you win, you really do. But that's not often. And that is just for regular people. If you were unfortunate to be born with some 'defect', like a brain, and/or an aversion to conventional wisdom, or other physical/ physiological differences, then your curve balls have curve balls of their own. You are wrong in all the right ways; but aint nobody got time for that shit. For those times when you just want to crumple into a ball and whither into oblivion, remember this: life is a fucking wimp. When the tears dry, fight back. Cryptic words. I know, but here's something less cryptic from one of my favo...

I received an email in response to the one I sent asking to be a writer on that blog I spoke about here . The email said that if I sent a contribution and they liked it they would put it up. A few hours later I sent one and asked if they loved it. The answer 'a resounding yes!, can we put it up?'  And that is how I was published. Thank you, thank you,. No pictures please. Check out the article here . It has already received 5 comments. Oh! And the picture beneath is me, of course. I am that shapely and sexy. And slim.

I love TED talks (www.ted.com). You know how you are afraid of talking about a particular habit or taste or choice of yours, or afraid of doing it, and then someone or some people finally mention that they do the same thing and you think 'phew, thank God I am not abnormal'? That is how the TED talks feel to me. So I was just going through the TED app on my phone, for talks I had not watched or listened to yet, and I came across this one . It is Brenee Brown, a researcher , speaking on her findings of the essence of the human existence- vulnerability. As much as I like TED talks, I have never played anyone over and over again- and not especially with limited bandwidth- but I replayed this one thrice. Now, in your spare time you can watch this and hear the gems that she so beautifully shares- I will not even attempt to help her. But I will share the bits of this talk that came right up to me and slapped a smile on my heart. Brenee studied vulnerability, courage, authenticity ...

 It is amazing, isn't it, that I have five blogs (5!) and I still cannot say everything I want to, in any of them. On this blog I am reluctant to say as much as I would have, because I am known by a few people who read it. On other blogs there is a totally different theme and agenda so some things might be inappropriate, or just irrelevant. That is why I like this blog .  It reads to me like a conversation I would have with some of my crazy friends. It has no airs and does not welcome pretentiousness. And the fact that these are AFRICAN WOMEN, speaking happily about a topic that is still considered too sacrosanct for them to even acknowledge, is amazing. The topic by the way is SEX. I was introduced to the blog by a friend of mine- one minute silence for the abrupt death of that friendship - who sent the link, probably to reveal his true intentions on one hand, and to get the URL for my own blog, on the other. Whatever the reason, he unleashed a monster. I have applied to ...

Whenever I go to see my three year old daughter - she stays with my parents in Benin- she is always on her guard, anticipating my next move, in an attempt to ensure I do not leave her abruptly and come back to Lagos. When she was younger, I would leave when she was asleep, or while she was in school, or generally unaware. I stopped leaving so abruptly when my younger brother told me that she would be so disoriented when she woke up and/or came back and could not find me. That notwithstanding, she still worries about my departure, so much so that she sometimes wakes up late at night, checking to make sure I am still on the bed. Or if she cannot find me there, she comes to the living room searching for me, no matter the time of night. And when I drop her off at school she tries to prevent me from leaving for fear that I will travel. This last visit home was not different, if anything it was even more turbulent. When I dropped her off at school her teacher had not arrived yet, so I sat...