When I saw the picture accredited to Lauretta Onochie about the immediate past government forcing Prof Akunyili to work just so she could pay her medical bills, I dismissed it as a cheap shot against Lauretta, I couldn’t imagine a presidential spokesperson would be so daft as to put up such a picture. Continue reading →
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. Continue reading →
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.
I was going to write a longish post on intolerance this morning and the thrust of it was about how being Nigerian seems to be the starter pack for intolerance.
Nkechi Bianze- in her facebook post this morning said “intolerance is a Nigerian thing”, while I don’t think we have a monopoly of it, we have enshrined it in our daily lives, it’s probably a part of our DNA, we cannot live without it. Continue reading →
Foundation of a thousand castles
Graveyard of a million dreams
City of endless toil
Oasis at every corner
Crusher of fragile hearts
Destroyer of the weak
They say you’re the biggest,
Their geography as valid as a two thousand naira note,
They say you’re the best, Eko for show
They say you’re golden, old enough to have sense.
A plethora of shiny faces wishing you well,
At each succeeding bus stop.
Yet you let him dance with hope, under the tunnel
Bleeding and dying, while life pulsed around him
Three hours they said, he bargained for life,
Waiting for flashing lights to take him to safety,
Hoping to touch love one last time.
But you wrapped him in a bodybag
Your work complete, as his soul rose to the sky
Accepting the sacrifice of your favourite son.
The one on a yellow throne with madness in his eyes
And gin and weed chanting his oriki.
In your crevasse I was born,
In your shadow I thrive
I wish it is hate that makes my blood sputter and pop
As I think of you,
Shame lights my veins instead, slowly it consumes me.
Be kinder to your children,
For I will say it again.
Stop killing your young.
My grandfather liked to tell the story of how the world came to be. God gave man only one thing as he descended from heaven and that was a palm nut, he planted it and its leaves helped to make man’s shelter, kept the shelter and environment clean, provided kindling for his fire, the wine kept him from losing his mind in the harsh world he found himself and its fruit gave him two different oils. The oil from the pulp to make his soup and to be the bride of the king of food- roast yam (the man loved his roast yam!) and oil from the seed, or kernel if you like, to anoint his skin and hair and to save his children from evil and its manifestations like convulsion and fever. It was the second oil that put my brother and me in trouble many years ago.