I’m conducting this for my youngest sister and her friends. They start university, hopefully, in September. What Do You Know Now That You Wish You’d Known Before You Started College/University?
I will be young forever. We. Us. Just listen to our raucous laughter, our gist, our stories. We are forever cool, Forever 21. Does it seem possible that we won’t be young forever? That we won’t always be strong, alive, effervescent, fiery? That we won’t always be this indolent, sprawled on sofas, straddling dining chairs, peering at screens that reflect in our nerd glasses? That our bellies won’t be taut forever? How won’t we be like this forever? And we will never be bald. Our hair will never grey or fall out. Our eyes will never wrinkle, our flesh will never sag. We will be young forever. Don’t speak to me of Paradise. Don’t speak to me of hell. Don’t speak to me of purgatory. Don’t speak to me of death. This is what I know, this is how I feel. I am here and now and present and I will be young forever.
Disclaimer: this blog is rated G. That said, here’s my secret. I’m a pretty slow learner. (Don’t tell my bosses!). S. L. O. W. I never understand anything the first time and this used to break my heart because, you know, I’m supposed to be smart. And you need to add, “I’m a fast learner” to your CV else no one will employ you. I’d go for career fairs and hear the company reps say things like, “You need to be able to think on your feet, adapt to changes, deal with uncertainty, learn fast…” And I’d think, I’m hopeless. I hate thinking on my feet, I’d rather sit and muse with a pen and paper. But this is the 21st century, with its obsession with speed, fast, now! No one has time for musing! I tried to be a fast learner and thinker. I used MindMaps and all sorts of gimmicks. Nothing. I wished I could be like my quicker-minded friends. I wanted to be a genius, effortlessly brilliant. The fear of being stupid …
I unpacked yesterday. Finally. A whole week after I returned. I unpacked my clothes, and my shoes. My trinkets and my creams. I unpacked memories. Early sunrises, late sunsets. Cold. Sushi. Solitude. Privacy. I unpacked. It felt weird going on a vacation alone, at first. A guy at Madame Tussaud’s asked me, “Haven’t you got any friends?” I gave him the easy answer, “No.” I didn’t tell him I had spent the previous week with some of my friends, including my best friend. I didn’t tell him that at the end of my sight-seeing, I would return home to the house in Camden where my cousins and grandparents were. No, I have no friends, I’m an alien in London and my time is my own. It was a very, very good feeling. I got lost many times. Thank God for Google Maps. I sprained my ankles, and had to wear Ace bandages on both before I could walk. I ate ravioli and hated it. I ate sushi and loved it. It was a spiritual retreat. …
Hey! So I’m finally on vacation. It’s many firsts. My first vacation by myself, no family or anything. My first trip to Europe. My first trip to the UK. Honestly, I wasn’t excited about it till about an hour ago. I didn’t plan to vacation alone, for starters. But I’d already booked my ticket when I discovered I’d be going alone. Oh well. The trip was boring and sleep-filled. I arrived Manchester about 9 am and reported at the hotel I’d booked still sleepy. To my chagrin, the receptionist announced I couldn’t check-in till 2pm. Plenty English has been spoken but nothing for me. So I dropped my luggage with her and I’ve gone sight-seeing. As I type, I’m in Gatley. It’s cold (12 degrees C) but not half as bad as I imagined (n.b. I’m wearing 5 layers of clothing and I’m indoors :)) In my short walk, I’ve counted half a dozen barber shops. Hair cutting must be lucrative. I can’t find any bookshops yet, though. I’ve bought 2 coffees just so I …
Gender equality battles aren’t complete if we don’t fight for men’s rights, as well. Does this sound odd?
It drives me nuts when people say they’re spiritual and not religious Christians or anyone who claims to be any kind of theist, says they’re spiritual and not religious. The implication being that “religion is bad” and “spirituality is good”. Eh? The word “Religion” comes from the Latin word “religio” which means “respect for what is sacred, reverence to a God (god)”. Religio is also said to come from the word “relegare” which means to “bind fast” or “place an obligation on” or “bond between man and a God (god)”. Cicero held that religion also comes from “relegere” which means to “treat carefully”. Catholic history actually defines religion as the “voluntary submission of oneself to God”. Do you believe in the existence of a higher power? Do you submit to Him? Do you consider yourself bound to Him in any sort of relationship: father-child, master-servant, creator-creature? Do you resolve to live according to His rules, as spelt out in some book or by divine inspiration? Do you work daily at improving your understanding of and relationship with Him? You are …
Sometimes, she lost herself. In the world, and it’s noise. In opinions and perceptions. In work. In the internet and its distractions. In Nigeria and its problems. In gossip. In gist. In caring about things that you’re supposed to care about, or at least act like you do. Because everyone else does. Because some people do. Because it’s the right thing to do: to care about those things. Like I care. Sometimes, she found herself. In books. In art. In laughter, real laughter with friends not mere LOLs. In quiet. In silence. In a dark movie theatre with her head on his shoulder. In prayer. In falling asleep cheek-to-cheek with her sister. In arguing dress patterns with her aunts. In research. In writing. In rain. In fear, fear like she’d never felt before, fear that reminded her she was alive. And then she lost herself. In pain, love and loss. Behind smiles that threatened to split her face. In zeroes. In the knowledge that this, all of this, is vanity and still…we press on, afraid …
O., How do I make the perfect Jollof Rice? R. Dear R., Are you expecting a recipe? I have none. I do have a few tips I don’t mind sharing. Cook for at least 4 people. Invite your friends/family. Or invite the strangers that you met at the bus-stop the last time it rained so heavy, you got to work at noon. Do you remember? You exchanged numbers with the guy and his sister and eventually hitched a ride with them when her fiance came to pick them. You’ve never gotten around to calling her. You should. Blend a lot of onions into the tomatoes, don’t use tinned tomato puree. Add a quarter of a ginger root. Monitor the water, add it a little at a time. Pretend you’re on a cooking show. Maybe Maggi Kitchen ( is that show still on air?) or Shokoyokoto. Say each step to yourself out loud. “Now, I’m adding a dash of Cameroon pepper.” It’s a lot of fun and no, …
It’s been a tumultuous year. In a good way and in a bad way. Good in the sense that I was always busy, meaning that I was never bored. Bad in the sense that I rode many emotional highs and lows, and I was often too busy to blog. But I’m here now at 19.52. Typing this on my phone, hoping it looks just as good on a PC. I want to talk about two things. First is what I call the “obligation of good manners” to one’s family. I was sounding off with one of my friends the other day and he said something along the lines of “If I can’t be comfortable and be myself at home with my family, then where can I be?” It was a pertinent question. Home is where we relax, we chill, we let our hair down. It’s where we’re accepted for who we are. But too many times, it’s where many of us display behavior we wouldn’t be caught in in public. We’re brought up to not …