THE CABMEN ALWAYS HAVE CHANGE
It has been 12 days since a cabman sped away with my 50 Naira change, leaving me dumbfounded by the roadside, wondering what I had done in my life to deserve such injustice. He was wearing a blue washed-out polo shirt and I will never forget his face. I pride myself as a sharp girl so you must know that this runaway cabman must have been a professional. While in the cab, I gave him my fare when I was about a minute away from my destination, because my parents taught me never to pay at the beginning of a trip. When I asked him for my change, he told…
A FEW NOTES ON ADULTING
I remember seeing a picture that said ‘it’s okay if we forget each other’s birthdays because we’re all adults’. Or something like that. I laughed and forwarded the picture to my friends, reminding them that that was far from the truth, and it would be rather unfortunate if they forgot my birthday. It was my birthday some days ago and I was very grateful to be alive and surrounded by people who I cherished. As a way of reflection, I listened to Gavin DeGraw’s “I Don’t Wanna Be” (what I call the song of my youth) and went through a journal from 4 years ago, smiling at some of the now seemingly ridiculous things I wrote.
The Truth About People Who Don’t Like Amala
At the start of this year, I decided to go on an Amala fast, to put some spice in my food life, such that when I eventually ate Amala again it would be a supernatural and rejuvenating experience. I broke this fast a couple of days ago with a plate of Amala with gbegiri and ewedu soup. To say the least, it was an out of body experience and my faith in God was strengthened like never before. For those who don’t know, Amala is a staple meal of the Yoruba people in Western Nigeria. It is usually taken with gbegiri and ewedu soup, a super combo known as…
THIS GIRL, AGAIN
Yes it’s me. The blog has a new look and everything, so you can tell this time, the repentance is for real. I started this blog a couple of years ago as a means of creative expression; I wanted to tell my truth, tell my story. Somewhere along the line, I may have lost my way. I became more cautious of things I wanted to say. I became very careful of how I told my truths. So I came up with excuses not to write. Procrastination this, writer’s block that. For too long I let the voices of fear and doubt win.