Under Pressure.

I do not know now where I got the impression from, that Lawanson market was the market with highest priced goods in the whole of Surulere and Idi-Araba market which is barely 500meters away was the cheapest. I think the women who own stalls in the market are more serious than those in other markets with a wider variety of goods and that is why this morning, I took my body to Lawanson to buy the plantains and vegetables I needed to make the meal my spirit had been craving for nearly a month.

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Beneath the Iroko

I’m watching cars snarl and drivers curse at Lawanson bus stop while I’m getting series loaded into my Iroko TV app. I’m the last customer of the day, well not a customer- I have an active subscription and it means Success the agent, will get no commission from me.

I am not Wife Material… And It’s ok.

This post has been sitting pretty in my drafts since June 30th, I wrote it at a time I found myself writing about marriage a whole lot. I decided to shelve it until another time and I guess that time is now…

 

Recently, I was having a conversation with a much older man about marriage and a woman’s place in the home. If you know me well- or at least read my blog regularly, you’d know that I do not believe in having specific gender roles in a marriage.

Lessons from the road to the well.

I was reading the first four chapters of the gospel as recorded by St John recently, and I discovered something in the first three verses of chapter four that I had never seen before. The words literally jumped out of the pages of my copy of the Message Bible and hit me in the gut.

Grandma Omnieverything

 

So we walked past the empty house, a woman and her husband had lived there once but they’re dead now, both of them. I told my mother about the woman and her soursop tree and her promise to send some to my brothers and I, when they ripened.

How I nearly married Baba.

The tall, old man shuffled past me into the makeshift cubicle at the end of the long corridor, I was partly glad I wasn’t going to be the first person whose blood would be drawn and a little worried about wasting time. My friend had come with me for the procedure, taking time off work to ensure I followed through. I felt guilty about delaying him further but a free HIV test at a government facility was still a free thing.

OBIAJULU.

Obiajulu.

There are days you will never forget.

Those days are not always the grand adventures that bring rivers of adrenaline and a pounding in your ears, echoing your rapidly beating heart. Sometimes it’s a quiet day, a peaceful morning with your belly full of food.

What doesn’t kill you…

I was chatting with a very dear friend about being in Benin-city and living here instead of that congested Lagos and I told him about working here for a while before sneaking out at dawn back to Lagos to another job. As I recounted the experience to Odogwu, I realized how much I had forgotten about the turbulence of that time.

And The Beat Goes On… Just Like My Heart.

In my last post, I wrote about dedicating December to fitfam. It’s the third of December already and exactly four weeks to my birthday, and I haven’t even started. I’ve been battling with dizzy spells secondary to anaemia, and why am I anaemic? PCOS has a lot to answer for.

Sachet Poverty.

I’ve decided to join fitfam in December, even with Christmas and my birthday falling in that month. I know it sounds nearly delusional that I can keep up with it but I’m willing to try. Attitude is everything, innit?