I can see how this exercise could be a first step to falling in love. It’s definitely a 2nd or 3rd date activity, not a 1st date. The things you could easily love the other person for are quickly revealed. And it forces you to be vulnerable all at once. It’s all so very deliberate. So maybe it’s worth a shot.
Sometimes, women walk up to me and ask how long I’ve had natural hair for. I tell them the truth: 3 years and counting. Some of them look so disappointed that Kingsley has asked me to tell them 6 months instead so they don’t despair and give up.
Would you believe me if I told you that this is a 6-month old Afro? Didn’t think so.
Disclaimer: This post does not aim to preempt the gubernatorial election results in any state, in any way. Fiction. Strictly fiction, albeit inspired by real events. The deed had been done. Despite all the Oba’s warnings, the Igbo (aided and abetted by other Yorubas the Urhobos, Ibibio, Bini, Esan, Kalabari, Hausas, Idoma etc.) had voted overwhelmingly against his candidate. The Oba was furious. “You must throw them in the lagoon, Kabiyesi. You promised. You are an Oba. You cannot go back on your word.” The Oba wrung his hands in vexation. “But the logistics of it, Asiwaju. Is the Lagoon big enough for over a million people? Is it deep enough? What if they can swim? How do I round them up?” The council fell silent for a bit. The Asiwaju glanced at the Balogun who studiously averted his gaze. He had counseled against this madness. Now look. “We could ask them to file out and make themselves available at the banks of the lagoon. They’re quite honest people. Just make an announcement …
The short answer: because this is a democracy. The long answer: because this is a democracy and not a monarchy and there are multiple arms of government. Let me paint a picture for you, citizens. Let’s take road building and creation. You want good roads. The President does not fix roads. But let’s say he makes that a priority. He selects a minister to head the Ministry of Works and submits this person’s name to the NASS for screening and approval. Simple enough, right? But what if he nominates an incompetent, dishonest person? Well, that’s why your Senate screens and approves. If they let an incompetent person slip through, they have failed you. You should call them out on it. Let’s assume that the minister starts out good and then turns bad later on. They give him a budget and he shares it via dud contracts to his cronies. What happens? Well, your Senate can summon him to defend his job. If investigations prove it, he should be fired, arrested and tried in a …
Someone asked me what my holiday plans are. I don’t have a lot. My ideal Christmas would have a fierce harmattan, and find me curled up in an armchair with hot Bournvita and a good book. The problem with harmattan is the drying out of my hair. Yeah, I’m wearing my hair out. All the salon women keep inviting me to come and do “Christmas hair” but I’ve outgrown such societal pressures, thank God. My earliest memories of Christmas are of feasts. Food, food, food. Peppery jollof rice, cold Coca Cola, peppered chicken, chin-chin, buns, cake. To honour that tradition (and my obsession with good food), this Christmas, I plan to cook. I think there’s something spiritual about cooking for the people you love. There’s a connection it forges, from your hands to their stomachs. And watching their eyes light up with appreciation, is priceless. Instead of giving out hampers, I plan to give out boxes of cookies, cakes and muffins I bake myself. Mostly I’m giving to friends of my family who have been more …
This is how to break up with the juvenile, codeine addict who fancies himself Goth because he paints his fingernails black and wears black eyeliner. This is how to pretend to be miserable, because you’re supposed to be miserable after a break-up. This is how to blog about it. This is how to live life; a series of Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday-Saturday-Sundays that never get old, never change. This is how to be a yuppie. This is how to dress like a yuppie, in chiffon blouses and pencil-skirts and kitty heels. This is how to spend like a yuppie; on expensive cab rides, handbags purchased from Dubai, ice cream at Coldstone and movies with friends. This is how to wrap your box braids in a bun. This is how to arch an eyebrow. This is how to smile at a man you like; coy and charming. This is how to smile at a man you don’t like; looking him straight in the eye. This is how to smile at a woman so she feels flattered. This is how …
K: I’ll pick you from the airport. Me: No, thanks. 10 hours later, I wonder how I’ll find my way from the airport. What if “Something” happens? What if my flight gets delayed and I take a taxi to my destination late at night and I get robbed or Something because I’m this petite, light-skinned woman (read: easy mark)? It’s impossible that I could be strong, you see. No one thinks you can be, not when you’re fair and petite and female. I should have taken K’s offer. Why do women like to be chased? Airport. The boarding announcement comes on and we all shuffle to the tarmac. All of us will be dead in 100 years. And it should evoke some sort of camaraderie, shouldn’t it? But it doesn’t. We are ignoring one another. It’s strange, considering that we could be deathday mates. What if? What if our plane, this plane that Arik has christened “Michael” were to fall out of the sky? We would die together. Approach the pearly gates together. Our families …
So today, Nigerians are outraged over the purchase of two armoured vehicles for Stella Oduah’s safety. Said vehicles cost over 250 million naira (About 1.6 million dollars). See Sahara’s report here. I understand the outrage, and I would share it if I knew: What is the annual budget of the “cash-strapped” Nigerian Civil Aviation Authority? How do we know they’re cash-strapped? Was this purchase included in the budget for 2013? Was the budget approved by the Senate? Did the Senate know she was going to buy the cars with the NCAA’s budget? Knowing this, did they approve? If they neither knew nor approved of the cars’ purchase, what was this money earmarked for originally? Has that activity been done? Is it pending? Money cannot buy air safety, can it? Someone please explain to me how this money increases the risk of me boarding a plane that will crash? I’m sincerely curious about these things. This is not an attempt to ridicule anyone. I just need to know why I should care. So I can join …
I remember thinking the conversation a bit dramatic. We were in first year, Jide and I, and it was one of those idle days where all we had to do was gist, waiting for one lecturer or the other. We used to have deep conversations, we still do. In almost ten years of our friendship, I can’t remember having a frivolous discussion with Jide. (Yes, we’re boring like that.) I can’t remember what the exact topic was but I remember Jide saying something like “I pray to never get jaded or used to mediocrity. It worries me, sometimes, I see a dead body lying on the road and feel nothing. I want to always feel something.” This was 2004. Before Boko Haram and its bombings. Before Aluu. Before Bellview and Sosoliso and Dana. Before violent elections that killed NYSC members. And I remember thinking, I’ll never be jaded either. It’s a resolution I fight to keep. Because it’s too easy, right? Too easy to get used to the statistics. The bad news pours in and …
Gender equality battles aren’t complete if we don’t fight for men’s rights, as well. Does this sound odd?