Wednesday, September 4, 2019

#30DayWritingChallenge: Day 2 - Something You Feel Strongly About


That’s the spirit of our fathers. The spirit that kept us together. The spirit of success. The one thing we can’t find in the mothership anymore. It went out the window. When, no one can place a finger on that. 

See, I was born in the Lagos to parents who are 100% Igbo. My mother was born in Ghana before Nigerians were chased home. Lagos became home until 1966. My dad moved to lagos as young lad in ‘72, 2 years after the Biafran geneocide, because that’s where the jobs were. 

I have 5 uncles on my mother’s side, just two married Igbo/Nigerian Women. I also have countless older cousins all married to ‘foreigners’. So essentially, my family is a mini-UN. 

Between the year 2000 and today, I’ve visited 32 of 36 plus the FCT, I’ve also lived in 8 for longer than 3 months. I’ve recently pledged my forever to a man of Yoruba heritage. I say I have absolutely no sense of tribe and that’s the truth.

So, when our real or perceived differences dominate conversations, it leaves me in awe and in severe pain. Why are we so fixated on our differences? So fixated we can't see anything but threats everywhere? 

I've been called Efulefu by Biafran agitators because I've carried on a campaign of the cause being an unnecessary one in the 21st century. 

I've been refused things in the my home state, Lagos, because my parents are originally from Imo state. Even though I'm a Lagosian who was born here 35 years ago and who speaks and writes better Yoruba than some with the Yoruba DNA, a DNA that's 99% like the Igbo DNA by the way. The fucking irony.

The point of this dramatic exposé on my family tree is to establish that people move around. The truth is that if we get down to the ‘Made in China’, we’re all immigrants. 

So, I will never get used to this "we vs them" syndrome borne from the inability for people to see beyond the bridge of their noses. 

Believe me, it’s killing me. 

#30DayWritingChallenge: Day 1 - 5 ways to win my heart ❤️

The truth is that there aren’t 5 ways to win my heart. 

There’s actually just one and I almost chose to be an idiot and would’ve been done with this in a jiff, but this is about writing, something I haven’t really done a lot of recently, something I’m not sure I can do, THREE.

There are just three ways to my heart. 

The supreme Three. 

The Holy Threenity: 


Yeah. I know. I’ll break it down. 

Have sense. This saves us plenty time and unnecessary trips to the bathroom to avoid sticking the pointy end of a fork in my own eye.

This is an offshoot of sense, in a way. Be sensitive to your environment, to the people in it. Be emotionally aware of the people you have to deal with. Be empathetic towards their struggles.

Basically, don’t be an arsehole.


According to google, 

noun: sensuality
  1. the enjoyment, expression, or pursuit of physical, especially sexual, pleasure.

That’s all. 

Monday, November 19, 2018

Fiction: “Jaaneman”


Kissing her was better than the warmth of the sun on a cold day. 

Looking at her from across the bar, I never thought I'd be able to get near her let alone kiss her. She wasn't like the others. The mere sight of her left me a sorry mass of inexplicable matter. 

There I was, my brain stuttering and stammering as she looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes. No woman had ever made me feel this way. This cannot be good for the Brotherhood of...Brothas! How in hades did I get here? 

How did I let this small geh with the lovely  heart-shaped face get under my skin? How do I explain this feeling to those who know me like I know myself without looking a tad bit dishonest

You know there have been others. There have been so many others. Remember those nights I told you about? Those nights when I had specks of the white substance obscuring the vision of my grey matter? Those nights when I was filled with anger at none other but myself? Remember those extremely long battles with none other but myself? Those nights that got too cold for comfort...those others  that blessed me with a welcoming embrace and that warm place between their thighs...those other that I, for the life of me, cannot pick out of a line up...those whose names I never bothered to ask because it didn't matter?

This one...this one is different. She shakes up a part of my soul I didn't know was in existence just by saying "Oga"

I mustn't see her again.


I went back today. 

You see, the smell of her cheap perfume couldn't seem to meander it’s way out of my nostrils two weeks after…after the first time. Memories of her cute dimples and the crucifix-esque scar on her chin sent my hormones racing towards Madam Jolomi's flesh market.

She told me about herself. Truthfully, I heard just about half of the things she said. Her eyes...and her crooked front tooth...and her dimples...the way they all came alive when she talked

The heaving of her breasts under the tight dress she wore sent my attention straight to a place that technically doesn't exist. I know this because she started crying for some reason. I had no idea what it was. I tried to comfort her and then, somehow...we...we ended up having slow, spine-tingling sex. She refused to take my money this time…That can't be good. 

Can it? 

It's raining outside. I might just stay the night. I should. 

Should I? 


You must bear with me. I am sprung. The chemistry is absolutely unmistakable and so I have decided that while I'm still feeling this way, I will surrender my soul to this...this...mythical force that has my scrotum. For some strange reason, the feeling is sublimely delicious.

Merry Christmas.


It was valentine's day. I finally managed to bench the verbal paralysis that plagued me since she came into my life. I asked her to marry me and you know what? She took my hand in hers and said "NO". I listened, absolutely perplexed, as she “schooled” me. 

Marriage wasn't for people like her. It didn't work out for anyone in her family and hers couldn't be any differentyada yada yada kak kak kak! 

I tried explaining the sheer idiocy of the picture she painted. The final "NO" was said with a look I'd never seen before. The look sent several shivers down my spine. Brother, It looks like this whole business was nothing but a product of my imagination. A bloody liar. Almost got me thinking things could be different...shit! 


Lord, she was my blood. My soul-mate...mine as well as a host of others. Oh, we are legion, I learned...and we fell. Hard. Some, smack into nothingness. Total emptiness. Others, like me, face first into a pile of maggot infested shit.

What's the whole point of this love business? Please, don’t say it. I have a loaded gun.

I wrote this for one of our #WordPorn projects a few years ago. I just came upon it and decided it would be nice to write it in "English" and share with y'all again hehehehehe 

Plus, I’m about to make it into a film. Lordy...

Be well. 


Saturday, May 21, 2016

This is a love song...

I like meditation
And pools and beaches
And making things from scratch

I love friendship
And her best friend, loyalty
And her favourite sister, Love

I'm in love with words
Whether poetry or a good story
And massages - it's always a happy ending.

I can't live without music
Or dancing like no one's watching 
Or traveling like my life depends on miles covered

This is a love song.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Monday, March 7, 2016

Bills, bills, bills...

The clock on the mantelshelf says it's 7.17am. A cursory glance at the calendar reveals what I already suspected: it's March 7, 2016.

It's a Monday. 

There are shitloads of things to do. I should've worked on these things at the weekend. I should've sorted them out in my head. I needed to sort them out in my know, lay out the plans...But no. This was one of those weekends. Whereby I shut off social media, reduce human contact to church alone, empty my head of all things resembling sense and reason and just aim to BE. 

So now I sit here, watching the bloody pendulum on that clock go left right left right...inching closer to Catatonia. 

Left, right, left, right...

Then the bills I have to pay proceeded to rouse me in the noisiest way they could muster. 

Is that what we're here for? 
To pay bills and die? 

When we speak of the inevitability of getting older, is this what we mean? You know, how it's inevitable to think of bills first...before job satisfaction? Before happiness??

I know. Why right? Well, I hear bits of it these days. Things that sound like it, look like it etc.

"I have bills to pay, A. My wife is almost due to pop." 

"Chick, I have I two children. I'm not going to leave a job because I'm unhappy. My kids will be unhappy if I can't feed them."

"I've got to bring home the know how my wife can be when there's no money...I can't leave. I'd rather be unhappy than stupid."

Is that the end game?

Bits of meat????


Saturday, March 5, 2016

Friday, March 4, 2016

Sunday, February 28, 2016


                  View from my bed

I'm lying in my bed this beautiful, beautiful Sunday morning.

I'm mentally preparing for worship aka church while marveling at God's sense of humour. 

God has a weirdly beautiful sense of humour and it's no secret I have a thing for a good sense of humour...and a smattering of mischief 😊😊😊

I love that we can talk. 
I love that he listens when I speak. 
I love that I try my darndest to listen when he speaks.
I love that he honours our many deals. 


We actually make deals.

Last night, we made one of such deals.
I was going bonkers looking for a nanoSIM that I was sure I'd kept on my bed. Believe me when I say I spent about two hours looking for this SIM. I even checked the 'fridge! 

Just when I was going to check outside the house, (even though I'd been holed up in my cave all day 😏) He whispered in my ear.


I was supposed to exhume a body I'd mentally buried last week. 

Okay, Lord. 
I will do it ASAP.
Just gimme my SIM. 

After the exchange, I went around the house one more time, came back to sit on the edge of my bed, resigned to my fate (etisalat's horrible customer service) I was about to turn on the TV and then on a whim, I turned around, there was my nanoSIM. Best believe I'd turned that mattress on its top a few times that evening. I howled and howled lol

God has a sense of humour. 

I've kept my own end of the deal. 
All is well with the world again.



Wednesday, February 17, 2016

spiritual connections.

Have you ever met someone and came to the realization that the "relationship must remain a "spiritual union" or a "mystical marriage" or an "astral connection" "amitié amoureuse"
Something that mustn't be corrupted at all?

I read WB Yeats and Maud Gonne's 'love story' this a.m. and it reminded me of a relationship I know quite intimately. Even though the story was about why Gonne refused Yeats 5 or more proposals and how she declared "...poets must never marry." (and I agree...except they marry their kind...aaaaand that's a story for another post) I took something else out of the experience.

There are some things you just leave alone because you realize it's just too beautiful and you don't want to taint it...

Oh well...happy hump day!

Enjoy the rest of your week.


Wednesday, February 10, 2016

On men and relationships...


So on Facebook this morning, Friend posted: 

"You know what men do when they are thinking about having a relationship with you? When they’re open to the option?  NOTHING. They do NOTHING. They keep their mouths shut, they scope out the situation, and they let the chips fall where they may. They watch as things are progressing, and if something blooms within their hearts, they come to you with an offer. THAT’S what men do(...)

At some point, very long ago, before all of us were alive, men and women entered into a tacit agreement, whereby men were only responsible for their words. We were to take a man “at his word,” and punish him only when his actions belied those words; when he acted in opposition of them; when he failed to make them true(...)

And these behaviors are what lead us to believe that change is possible; that they are warming to the idea of being with us. They’re not, though. They’re enjoying the moment. They’re enjoying the benefits of the boyfriend experience while remaining indemnified against poor-boyfriend liability.

Me in the comment section: 
"Sometimes, they come to you with an offer and then suddenly realize they were only 998% certain about the offer...(or the moment even...) at that point, they don't mind being called a liar and/or a thief. The moment is gone. And them with it."

I remember the first time we met like it was yesterday...

I remember that smile that never left your face...

I remember how you'd belly your many client induced frustrations in that your trademark half smile...

I remember the day I heard you'd passed...

I remember the tightening in my chest...the one that I feel every time your name pops up in a conversation...or when I come across your number on my phone (I still have that...I know. But you already know how weird I can be)

I remember you, Tosan. 
I remember you. 
I think of you. 
I think of you. 
I know you're well. 
I hope I can some day, think about you without pain...without wondering how such a beautiful soul can be plucked off without notice. 

Facebook just reminded me to wish you a happy birthday and I wanted to hit something so bad. It would've been your 32nd...Sigh. 

Rest in peace, my friend. 

Till we meet.


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

I should just rant about how I was alive and well all day long and how I'm suddenly feverish and how my temperature is rising by the second and how I feel like diarhea crap and how I think I should just shut down and sleep it off...or how I'd rather watch a movie than do the wise thing which is take some paracetamol and pray the fever doesn't persist...


Saturday, February 6, 2016

Dear Muse...

You see, we thought we knew the answer to this question (I know "Assumption is the mother of all f&%kups." and shit like that.) and we've mulled over those 2 days...Perhaps, I was overly excited to have you around and I let some things slide by me? (Perhaps? Perhaps? Perhaps??)

You see, darling muse, from a niggle of doubt we've reached full paranoia. We've debated with better judgement for the better part of 4 hours. All possibilities imaginable. Name it. We went through it.

We won. 
(Because "Only the paranoid survive." according to a former friend.) 

Now I have a few questions but the main one ( that I should've asked eons ago but decided not to because well, I didn't want to sound desperate...) is: Why did you come to see after such a long time? Why tease me like that? 

I'm confused.

Was great. 
After all, you were here. 
I thought we finally crossed a major hurdle in our "situationship".

Then Wednesday came. 
And you went cold.
Gave me a perfunctory forehead kiss and ran off in the opposite direction of our plans. 
What happened? 

Did I say something/Do something/Not do something that had you clamming up and running off like you had 12 Devils on your heels? 

I know I'm a dick sometimes but it's usually calculated. To be a dick frontiers I'm not in a hurry to conquer.

You see, I like you. 
I really like you. 
I like the things you make me do...that's why it was really easy to invite you into my head. So, if the experience was that unbearable, so much so that I can barely get more than a few words from you these days, then i'd love to know and I'd love a chance to apologize. (Seriously, less than a thousand words the last time. Jerk...Sorry I didn't mean that. Really.)

I'd hate to live with the knowledge that I made you uncomfortable in any way.

If I'm being paranoid, just pretend this epistle never happened. We'll blame it on my over-active imagination and my extremely sensitive side. Then I'll just go right ahead and mind my business...I'm just sick of you teasing me and I really have to ask:

Are we? 
Or are we not?
What the hell are you doing to me???


Wednesday, February 3, 2016

I couldn't decide if j wanted Jam or Peanut burra or Nutella. 
This is how you know you have trust issues.
Wistful sigh. 

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Hashtag: Ponderisms.

There's this sense of calm I get from walking these blogville streets...reading all those blogs I've come to love...walking the streets of these minds I may never put a body or face to...its pure bliss, I tell you. 

Takes me on a journey...back to a place when I was a mishmash of emotions. When we'd make/read absolutely sublime post or just some bullkakery that refused to be silenced. 

The people I read on here...nothing stoked my fire more than remembering those days of rage and zwodder. Some of those people have since melted into the wood works, never to be heard from again in the anon capacity. Some have passed (God rest their souls and help us heal...) Some have stopped writing altogether, sadly...while a curious few have continued writing...for a different audience who maybe have the same ambition: The need to just BE. Or perhaps, priorities have evolved? I don't know...all I know is I love this place to bits.

This place that became my escape for a period of my life when I needed several seats on the the escape train...when Lenny Kravitz's "Get away" was the soundtrack of my existence...this place that allowed me post my "psycho-brabble" without judgement. This place that loved me. 

I really should go back to sounding off here 😊😊


Monday, February 1, 2016


Life without medication.

Not drugs
Not the Internet
Not retail therapy
Not Music therapy
Just life, you 
and silence

Tuesday, July 14, 2015


This mental laziness is real.

Mental laziness is the worst type of laziness yet because one really can't do much about it.
Just gripe and gripe and gripe and sulk and rail at something or someone for the fact that you just can't seem to get your brain to get off the couch.

Bloody couch potato.

No amount of cussing will help.

Just walk away.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Gets to class first...

...sits at the back of said class

Have a great day, y'all
Mine already started well...with Coffee!


Picture: My View Today

Monday, July 7, 2014

Las Buj nights...

One is due up in about 6hours yet one is not near zzzzzzland even though one is absolutely Knackeredddd from traveling alllll day.

While trying to get used to the hotel room that will be home for the next 14 nights, I shall iron a shirt, watch AFMAG and count sheep when they fail (coz they will :( )

Oh well...Snack time.

Still on the #30days30Pictures program. I haven't posted since the first one coz my mobile app refused to work...wistful sigh.