Growing up in Lagos, there is a certain tune that will forever be linked to ice cream in my mind, ice cream and nescafe. It’s a latin pop tune that makes you want to dance even when your feet are iroko roots in centuries old mud.
After seeing these pictures of me taken by Eye Kay, I have decided to start a phone photography course for Brothers, Husbands, Male co-workers, Boyfriends and intending Husbands. It is imperative that Nigerian women do not continue to suffer the burden of terrible pictures in 2019AD and beyond
Continued from Husband Wanted – 1
She watched them from the window, stomach churning, as her wild heartbeat made her faintly afraid she was about to have a heart attack. If only she would be so lucky, a heart attack would get her out of this farce.
It was hard to count the number of men who turned up for this joke that had gotten far out of hand. Were there a hundred men out there? Two hundred? Three hundred Spartan warriors seeking a wife? She covered her face with her hands and exhaled. Continue reading →
It started with a friend request on Facebook.
It was one of his names that prompted her to click on the confirm button. It was the name of a love she had lost, buried in an unmarked grave in eastern Nigeria, it was the name of another love in the present, steady and crazy. It felt custom built mostly but sometimes it felt like living beside a dragon. It was also the name of a love that could be hers in the future if she dared, but she was a coward where her heart was concerned, and that might never change.
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.
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.
This morning, I heard Collabo somewhere and I realised that I had forgotten my erstwhile favourite Nigerian song, since then I have played it back to back twenty-four times, it’s playing now as I type. It’s a song I can listen to for a whole a day without getting tired – I’ve done it several times before. Continue reading →