Posts

Showing posts from 2016

All The Times I DIed

Say it say it say it Tell it like it is
Say it say it say it Tell it like it is
What breaks your heart
What keeps you awake at night
What makes you want to breakdown and cry
But say you'll never turn your back
Say you'll never harden to the world
Say you'll never try to still the rhythms in your breast
Say you'll never look at the evil among us and try to forget
Say you'll tell it like it is
What breaks your heart
What keeps you awake at night
How your anger and grief
Make you want to cry out
And tell it like it is
But say you'll never close your eyes
Or pretend that it's a rosy world
Say you'll never try to paint
What is rotten with a sugarcoat
Say you'll…

Tracy Chapman, Tell It Like It Is


This was the post I wrote for World AIDS Day on the hernetwork blog. I must really commend the wonderful ladies at the hub for their warmth. I was unprepared, however, for the responses I received on this article. Granted, it took quite a bit to come out and with this revelation, b…

The Nigerian Vagina Is A Problem

Image
Of Birth

It was early April in 2010. I had just given birth the day before to my lovely daughter, amidst and inspite of, so many issues. As was the practice in every hospital I was required to pick up a notarization of birth certificate ( different from the birth certificate). This was proof from the hospital that I had had a child and I would have to present it to obtain a proper birth certificate. The young lady - about 21 or 22 at most- writing the notarization asked for my name, the name I wanted to give my child, and the child's father's name. She proceeded to write a Mrs beside my name on the stub that would be left off  when the certificate was torn, even though it was obvious the differences in mine and the father's name. I am not married, I told her. I am not a Mrs. And that began an argument that lasted over 30 minutes and had to be settled by pleading from one of my nurse friends . She said that was how they did it, and she could not put me as Miss anything beca…

Home Is Where The Luggage Is

It is a little before 4 pm and I am still in bed. When I heard the phone ring this morning at about 8 am and saw the caller ID I did not want to answer it because I was not really ready for bad news. Yes, I knew it was bad news because it has been building up for a while. After a short while I decided to call back because I knew I was just delaying the inevitable by not answering him anyway. It was my brother with the latest news on our house brouhaha; we had been asked to pack out of the house by the end of April.

As I said  this had been a long time coming so it was not a surprise. I found out about a week and a half ago that my brother  had been owing rent for a year in February and a new year begins in March. The reason I did not know was because he never asked us to pay rent as he wanted to make sure we did not feel we had any ownership in the house. When things got to a head, I asked him and he told me the rent was expiring in February. Now this. (' We' in this case refe…

WILT - The Abundance In Giving

What I Learnt Today - more like this week and last- through hunger and starvation and lack, was a lesson I had learnt before and forgotten.

You see when I was going through all the trauma and stress while pregnant and just after giving birth and having to depend on charity for my welfare, I realised that it is very necessary to give. To be painfully generous. Even when it is illogical and you think the person asking should know better or at least have some decorum. Still give. You see until I was in a position where I lacked, and I could not do anything about it no matter how hard I tried, and had to depend on the charity of people for survival, I never understood. I did not appreciate that people could be in that position not for minutes or hours or days or months but even years.

In the last two weeks I found myself in that position again through a series of events. This time, however, I did not go asking for anything because I did not think it necessary. I did not panic…

Hashtag 'cringe'

Image
Now I never really comment when foreign journalists or people generally make blunders about Nigeria from the outside looking in but this story has awoken my deepest repugnance in ways I have not felt in a long time.



It is more of an ode to debauchery and hedonism than a sane view of Nigeria through anyone's eyes. It lacks context and depth and is downright offensive. How does that Aisha Shaba fall into the category of people who came back because of Buhari for heaven's sake? Also what is that righteous indignation at the kids begging? Asking them  to sell recharge cards. How many years has Ibru been in Nigeria? And is that lifestyle the reality of Nigerians because of Buhari?

I had hoped that with the internet and all the other global technological advances stories like this would have died a natural death , but I guess I was wrong. There is always that one journalist  who overfed on champagne, suya and probably weed loses his bearings in one solitary spot on the Lagos landsca…

Detours On The Journey Called Life- 2015 Edition

Last year was a bitch and she went hard. There were so many things that went wrong and there were so many times I felt life was not worth it. However. for some reason, I am here and as tangible proof that I have imbibed (an) intangible lesson(s) here is my list for 2015.

1. Depression is real. It is not a feeling, it is not a mood, it is not sadness. It is a consuming darkness that swallows the sufferer. You can 'shake it off ' as easily as you can regulate your body temperature when you have a fever. You can 'get over it' just as easily as you get over other serious illnesses without medication. ( This is being satirical by the way.)

2. Act first, think later. Think your way to the answer in action. Even if you don't know how to do it. Even if you have never seen anyone else do it.

3. Don't be deceived when anyone says 'you can talk to me' or its equivalents. Very few people really want to hear about your issues and even fewer give a shit. Don't s…