Let’s Go!

Can you remember the first time you left your country? It’s impossible for me to remember because I’ve been travelling since I was five years old, going to new countries sometimes five times a week or even more often.

Longish Road to Love…

I called my cousin this afternoon, with great joy she told me she passed JAMB along with her elder brother. When I came to Benin to write PUME, she was a newborn while her brother was a tiny toddler who rolled his tongue when he cried. I couldn’t be prouder of both of them, two smart teenagers with calm heads on their shoulders.

Dear God, It’s Me.

Dear God,

It’s hard sometimes to remember this love.

When life is hard, when nothing works and the darkness swirls around my soul threatening to shut off the light. I stumble in the grey, wishing for a miracle, hoping that you remember me.

Fat as a Cow…

So he started singing a song I had never heard before.

“It was my mother’s favourite song,” he explained as he continued to sing the song about Samson and his downfall.

“How come it was her favourite song yet I never heard it?” I asked.

His Only Wife – A Review…

The book for this week is His Only Wife by Ghanaian writer (in diaspora) Peace Adzo Medie. It offers a view of contemporary womanhood in today’s Ghana and family dynamics in that society. The book generated buzz last year, as it featured on various lists by “prominent” publications and it made it as one of the selections for the Reese Witherspoon’s book club – a near equivalent of winning the lottery for a debut writer.

The Marriage Conundrum.

“Get married,” the doctor said with his arms spread out and a silly smile dancing on his coal-black skin.

Because I’m Bad…

I don’t think I’m tired of this blog yet but it’s getting harder and harder to put my thoughts out here and even on social media if I’m being completely honest. I don’t know why this is, why I want to keep my thoughts to myself for the most part, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to regain the freedom to share my thoughts as I did in 2016 especially. I’m going to ramble a little on this post, I’m abandoning order.

So Long, Majek.

Sometime last year, there was a rumour that Majek Fashek had died but I didn’t believe it for one second and unsurprisingly, it was confirmed that he was still alive. This morning however, when I saw the announcement of his death on a friend’s WhatsApp status, I screamed. The sky was a sickly shade of grey and the rain sounded as if the sky was crying. I knew it was true, Majek the rainmaker had gone home.

He is My Peace

My favourite writing position is with a pillow propped behind my back, my head resting on the bed frame or the wall – depending on where I am. My right thigh supports my laptop while my belle balances it.

As I write this, my laptop tils a little from one side to another and it is the only time I am grateful for my soft and round belly. I want a flat tummy one day in the future, I don’t want them abs although I suspect I’d be one those who would get one as they try to pop out whenever I start a workout regime.

I’d be Dead

I had a relapse of a Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding that has plagued me for several years.

Yesterday afternoon, I was lying in bed while Obinna sat on the bed beside me and my youngest brother paced the room as we talked.

 

We were teasing Obi about becoming more handsome since he miraculously gained 1kg when Ikenna said for the first time ever, people were telling him that his brother was finer than him.