Retirement
How will you end everything you’ve started?
All posts tagged: nigeria
28.
I turned 28 two months ago. Usually, I’d write a blogpost to commemorate but I wasn’t in the right place mentally at the time. I am now. What does 28 mean to me? It’s a question I’ve struggled with but also a question that’s very easy. 28 is familiar, like an old sweater. Like I’ve spent all my life waiting to be 28. Like I was born to be 28. I’ve never felt this way about any other age. Does this make sense? Physical identity meant a great deal to me when I was 28 years old. I had almost the same kind of relationship with my mirror that many of my contemporaries had with their analysts. Don DeLillo, Americana 28 is… The age of “unlearning”. The age of courage. Of being able to unpack the baggage, the myths, the cliches, the “home training”. They were useful…once. When we were younger and life was easier with a playbook, a rulebook. But life’s so much complicated. And it’s so much work to be likable. And how …
We Should All Be Mad
What are you mad about? When I was younger, I was taught/told that all I had to do was get good marks, pass my exams and graduate with a good degree. I’d have a job, and with it financial security and independence. The lines would fall in all the right places. And they did. For some people. Some are lucky to have jobs when they graduate. But for the majority, there are no jobs. Not because they’re unqualified, not because they’re incompetent. No. Sheer (bad?) luck. A tragic game of musical chairs and I am mad, so mad that my family and friends are unemployed or underemployed and there doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel. What are you mad about? My friend’s mother died earlier this year because she couldn’t get emergency dialysis done in the middle of the night. Another friend slumped while jogging. Government hospitals ask expectant mothers to come for delivery with candles, diesel, rechargeable flash lights. Women die in childbirth of the most routine causes. Babies …
The Woman You Married
Look. Look at her, the woman you married. Look at her dozing as she nurses your child, make-up still on her face, one shoe off. Look at her doing the last of the dishes in the evening, still in her work clothes. Look at her as she patiently spoons rice into your toddler’s mouth, barely flinching as the child spills yet another cupful of water on the floor. Look at her. Look at her “adulting”. Trying to adult. Trying to be her mother, and her aunts, and her grandmothers. Trying to do it all, like she’s seen them do it all. Wear lace, walk in heels, attend weddings, go to the market, manage the domestic staff, do the last load of laundry. Can you tell we’re actually just little girls playing dress-up in our mothers’ lives? Look at her, smiling gamely as the baby places hands sticky with drool on her face. Look at her teaching your daughter to lace her shoes. Look at her, sighing with disgust at the fact that her jeans no longer …
My Pregnancy Diary: Part 2
Thank you to everyone who responded to my call for feedback in my last post! It was very helpful and I will definitely be taking your ideas onboard. The winners of the giveaway are Ife, Sumbo and Nikki *rings bell* Congratulations! I’ll contact you directly on how to get your prizes. For everyone else, don’t worry. I have more giveaways planned this year! Now on to today’s post. Announcing our Baby I must be honest. Kae and I discussed whether going public with our pregnancy would be a good thing. The typical thing is to keep it private. Understandably. On one hand, there’s the superstition associated with sharing good news. Some believe it attracts envy, jealousy, ill-feelings, “bad bele” and in some cases, voodoo against the unborn child. Some others just want to enjoy these precious moments with only family members and close friends. And besides, being private about it means no awkward explanations are needed if there’s a miscarriage, a still-birth or other complications. Then there’s aesthetics. There are women who don’t think they look good …
My Pregnancy Diary: Part 1
“Well, madam. I’m pleased to inform you that you’re pregnant.” I face the doctor, stunned. It is such a cliche moment. The day before, I nearly cut myself with a knife because my hands were trembling so hard. I thought I had a fever (or Lou Gehrig’s). The thought of pregnancy might’ve crossed my mind but I dismissed it because…Nollywood. Nollywood taught me that the first sign of pregnancy was puking your guts out, and I wasn’t puking my guts out. And a part of me didn’t think I could get pregnant without fertility drugs. Call me pessimistic but I know so many women struggling to have babies that I was starting to accept that as the new normal. “You’re married, aren’t you?” The doctor asks me quizzically. My reaction isn’t what he’s expecting, I guess. Lol. I smile. “I am. Thank you, doctor.” “You’re welcome. So come back in 4 weeks, and we’ll see if this pregnancy is viable.” In other words, we’ll see if you haven’t miscarried. So brutal, really. There are a …
My Big Fat Nigerian Wedding: Five Favorite Moments
On November 29th, I would’ve been married “traditionally” for one year. Looking back now, I realize I never blogged about the whole experience of planning a “typical” Nigerian wedding. So in honour of this anniversary, I want to share my five favorite moments from the event we dubbed “The Carnival”. The first time K saw me in all my regal Esan splendour/glory: Lol! Esan women love their coral beads. I’m not often vain but even I recognize that I must have looked a sight. I wore almost 8 lbs worth of coral jewelry. I felt like royalty, like an Edo warrior princess. I didn’t want to take off that outfit. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments and I loved it. The entrance dance: I think I only vaguely appreciated the fact that it was my traditional wedding when I woke up that morning. I had a sense that I was a participant, and nothing more. I was dispelled of that notion the moment K and I danced in. There was this roar of appreciation and …
Internet Shopping in Nigeria: The Good, Bad and Ugly
So I’m very lazy when it comes to shopping. (The husband would disagree but it’s true. Lol.) I love shopping online. It’s so…precise. I want x, I google whether someone sells it online in Nigeria, I make it happen. Clothes, I’ll google. Beauty products, I’ll google. Food items, Google! Even if they don’t sell online, simply confirming that they have what I want is enough for me. So if their Facebook page has a contact number, I’ll call first before I make the journey to their shop. That said, a few weeks ago, I had a bad experience. I needed an outfit urgently for an event happening a week later in Lagos. I wasn’t in Lagos, and my usual tailor is the kind that simply cannot meet a deadline so tight. I needed someone to buy fabric of a particular hue and then sew it based on my measurements. I turned to the internet, specifically to Instagram. I have a few friends who make outfits often so I reached out to a vendor one of them …
Nine Health Benefits of Jollof Rice
Jollof Rice courtesy KitchenButterfly.com When you Google “Health Benefits of Jollof Rice” (because you’re feeling guilty about the copious amounts of Jollof Rice you’re consuming), you get recipes. Recipes, I tell you. No one has bothered to write down the health benefits of Jollof Rice so I decided to do myself (and you) a favour by documenting them. This list is in no way, exhaustive. Feel free to add your own health benefits. Jollof Rice makes you happy. A study carried out in my house showed that family members are generally happier when lunch (or dinner) is shown to be Jollof Rice. It may be related to the release of oxytocin in the brain as our eyes register the pleasure that is a steaming heap of sinfully orange rice. And fried plantain. Jollof Rice contains tomatoes, peppers and onions. Tomatoes are good for you. They help prevent cancer. Peppers are good for you. They contain lots of vitamins. Onions are good for you. They reduce inflammation and heal infections. Jollof Rice contains rice. Rice is a well-known …
On Writivism, A Great Book I Read, Klo5 and Holiday Season in Nigeria
I’ve meant to blog about this for a while but I kept losing my drafts… Super late, I know but our Pemi won the Writivism Prize 2015! I say our Pemi because she’s ours… Lol. I’m not famzing, I promise. We’ve shared a bed (now I sound like I’m famzing). Anyhow, I’m super-pleased for her, and slightly envious that she got to go on holiday to Uganda as part of making the Writivism shortlist. And now I want to write more stories, so I can enter competitions that allow me go on holidays. Have you read Pemi’s deliciously scary story? Have you checked out the super-cool blog, Nik-Nak.co she collaborates on? Thank me later! I got this amazing book, The Art of Possibility by Ben and Roz Sander, a year ago from Ozoz of kitchenbutterfly.com fame. It’s slightly strange in that it’s not your typical self-help book. It’s not teaching you how to be the best XYZ but how to get to a point where being the best XYZ doesn’t matter. Here’s an example of one of …