Grey Matters

In the background is the Big Brother Nigeria show which is going on at the point of publishing this post. One of the male participants - referred to as housemates- ostensibly in an alcohol-induced moment of daring, looked around to ensure there were no cameras (or people) in sight, and groped a sleeping female housemate under the covers. Unfortunately for him, he overlooked two important issues; one, the live eviction show was the next day, and two, there  are  cameras everywhere. The cameras and Big Brother caught him; which was serendipitous for the female housemate- let's call her B- as she was totally unaware of what was going on.  Long story short, Big Brother called both of them privately and informed them on what had been seen. Then in public, disqualified the male housemate and evicted him from the house. You can read more  here . However, what should have been a wise decision in the light of the unfortunate occurrence sparked off a vitriolic controversy, on and off l

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

Source 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

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 ref

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

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