We go dey Alright.

I grew up in the 1990s, in the heyday of Babangida and Abacha, when Nigeria rolled over and died. Because I was a child, I was insulated from the bleakness that hung in the air. While the terms SAP, DIFRI, Ogoni 9, attempted coup, annulled elections, PTF and military junta- I loved that phrase, were words I heard on the news, they had no real meaning to me until fuel scarcity joined the mix. Continue reading →

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Just Walk Away.

I peeked into Facebook yesterday and read about the tragic death of a man at the hands of his wife, then I saw a post by a friend of his and shut down for bit.

 

You see, there was a man who meant the solar system to me for all of my life. He wasn’t just blood, he was close friend, adviser, bridge over troubled waters and the fun guy who basked in our hugs and told us the craziest stories (Storytelling runs in all my families). He didn’t get to see my twentieth birthday- he drove from Owerri to Ife to see me on the day I turned 19- that was the last time I hugged him. He was there three days later while we huddled in the car that would take us to Lagos- that was the last time I saw him, as the car pulled out of the compound.

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By Force Mrs- a rejoinder.

I got a response to my previous post from a lady on Facebook and her story- her sister’s story actually, was so sad that I shed a few tears, before getting angry at her for being foolish. The story was shared with me so I would write about it and advise young women to look before they leap. I don’t know how to advise anyone, especially here on social media. Plus I am not sharing details of the story before somebody sues me, I don’t have money to give anyone for what I know nothing about, I am too broke for nonsense spending. Continue reading →

Ovaltine Memories.

 

The rough feel of the mass of ovaltine in my mouth finally kicked in the memories, I scooped two heaped spoons to my cup and stirred it into the hot water to get it to melt, I added milk and carried the cup to the dining table where jam and Agege bread had my name written on them

 

“Adaeze see this! Remember it?” I looked at the ovaltine bottle my brother held, it looked familiar but it didn’t activate any memory. Continue reading →

Rome wasn’t built forever.

Ifeoma is one of my favourite facebook friends, her wit and wisdom and shiny pictures are a delight anyday. She is also a briliant writer- I’m featuring her post very soon, should have done it since but life happened. She made a post about how she accepts now that her alma mater was a glorified secondary school despite fiercely arguing about it with her father and a doting professor. Some people came to counter the post- as expected, and tried to change the focus of the narrative from the school to all government run schools in Nigeria. However, a conversation on that thread caught my eye and inspired this post.

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