Stories, Lessons and Humour.

For the longest time, there's a way I remember it. The Cocoyam plants and bananas took over the most part of our compound. They were everywhere in the backyard and housed the cats that strolled in to the compound. My mum detested them. Who is them?, you'd ask. The cats, the cocoyam and the banana. She said at night you couldn't tell if an animal was hiding under them or if they were housing the burglar from the next compound. Worse off you couldn't get rid of them, everytime they were cut down somehow they'd sprout again and in a short while. It was as though the men of old who lived or farmed there had dedicated the land to cocoyam and bananas. It really bothered us. How did they come about? Who first put them there? How did they make sure they outlived the other plants in the compound? How are they so resistant to everything. We never could tell but one thing was sure, something had been done and now we were dealing with the consequences of their actions, thoug...

Every time I heard relearning and unlearning, it was usually scriptures being discussed. It's just amazing how no one tells us that for growth in our lives, relearning and unlearning must mark our path. I have always questioned many things as in my opinion they didn't make any sense. I'd give an example. A certain research showed that about 70% of households were reliant on the woman's income but when we all go out looking peng who gets the credit for a job well done? I'd let you answer. The society has us so conditioned that an educated man will act worse than an illiterate. This is what has made it important to constantly ask questions and unlearn. A certain saying I like reads "If you don't like where you are, change positions, you are not a tree". I'd have you know that sometimes that position is in your mind. Who put you there? Society. Growing up we were conditioned to think a woman who arrived in a room that was dirty and sat witho...

It is a long read, it is however worth your time. Read, comment and share. I have never really liked Saturdays. I was born on Saturday, the rains hadn't stopped for even the slightest minute. Mama had to give birth at home, the roads were too flooded.. Mama had died on a Saturday too. Dad had beat her into a plump for going to Women's church meeting, her marriage had fallen apart, she was being pressured for not having another child and she was still been beaten on most days. These meetings were the only things that made happy. She had been really late that day and he had beaten her and left her to care for herself. He expected that when he got back dinner would be ready and she would cleaned up for the activities of the other room. If only he knew he would meet her corpse. I had come downstairs after he left to meet her bleeding from her head. In that moment, where my ever strong mother wasn't so strong all she wanted was to let my dad know that she was sorry and s...

This is a long read but it's totally worth your time. I intend to write every Friday and I'm starting with Tunde's story (Empathy is underrated the series) so kindly turn on notifications. I also would like to hear what you so please comment and share. Thank you! My name is Tunde. I grew up in Lagos in a quiet environment with my parents and my 3 siblings. My parents were illiterates but worked very hard to make us comfortable. What they both wanted was for all of us to get educated and then get good jobs so we could make money and take care of them. This they wanted for all of us especially me their only son. Starting from primary school, having good grades for me were how I could make my parents feel satisfied, it was my way to make them feel their hard work wasn't a waste. It was how I proved myself to them being the only thing I could control at the time. My parents didn't come for visiting days and the rest but they were always around for prize giving...

In our Face-me-I-face-you Our room opposite the Johnson's Mrs Johnson snored the loudest A walking irony we used to think As in the house she was the most quiet But at night she became the loudest Young and cautioned by our mother's glares We never asked questions In our Face-me-I-face-you Mrs Johnson snored the loudest Hours after the stereo was at its loudest It would go off We would hear sobs for so long Then the heartfelt snoring We never asked questions In my Face-me-I-face-you Mrs Johnson snored the loudest Her subconscious calling to her ancestors To not let her wake to the pains and aches To Mr Johnson's rod, punches and kicks To the stares that traced her scars We never asked questions In my Face-me-I-face-you Mrs Johnson snored the loudest Every night except one Her ancestors had heard her incessant pleas They had come for her The heavy snoring slowing became faint As she took steps closer to them Until suddenly the house became sil...

I have never understood The insanity that comes with love taken away Brother Akindele the composed had sat at the junction Crying out his heart and asking people why he wasn't enough After Shakara Lizzy had eloped with Brother Samson How quickly love had become insanity I didn't understand Brother Akindele had said steps we take forward in love can only be taken back in near insanity I didn't understand Up until you left Akinyemi Just before you left You mustered strength to say Here's to all that we were All that we could be If we had the time I have walked both ways in my mind All that we were I have fathomed with my imagination All that we could be Now staring at the spot you last touched That I have left unwashed since you left You in my heart, head and thoughts I realize brother Akindele was right.               Picture from @onestrongafricanwoman

People are underrated. Yes, I said what I said. I once read a post of a renowned woman in business talked about how she had gone to a meet up of successful women and while introducing themselves everyone had taken to saying their names and then the other 15secs was about their businesses and their careers, she said she had simply stood up, said her name and what she likes to do. It might interest you to know that this wasn't a business meeting neither was it a conference, it was just supposed to be a group of women meeting up to chill. At the time I read the post I had thought she was simply being modest. Ah!  I was young. A successful woman had addressed a gathering of students in my undergraduate days and she had said "the problem I have with this generation is that you are a microwave generation, you want everything and you want it now" my first thought had been "what a wowuu,  we leave the comfort of our rooms and fresh air to come seat like sardines while r...

Today, I'm going to tell you a story, one I have never told anyone. It has remained only in the minds of all who witnessed it. No, it's not a work of fiction. Women have always been dear to my heart, all the hard girl, hard girl still comes with the femininity. A man is not defined by his experiences, this doesn't however mean his experiences don't tell on me. I grew up not knowing something just wasn't right, I learned how to change a car tyre at 14 from my dad, my dad had been careful enough to emphasize to my siblings that your femininity shouldn't make you less productive, in high pitched voice he'd say "my sisters went to the farm with us, you're not a girl to be lazy". This words shaped me into being one that goes for what I want against the odds of being told "but you be woman naw" Secondary school opened my eyes to so much basketball, truth or dare, social night, biscuit flakes and the worst of them of all; devil's b...

Abeke the one, Young, beautiful and voluptuous Innocent, quiet and reserved They called her, the one. Abeke the quiet, Never loud enough they'd say She'd write her woes and sigh away her worries. Abeke the lost, The day he took her Young, confused man stuffed her mouth with sand while taking her ruefully She had cried with all her might But all they had said was Oh! You weren't loud enough She became Abeke the deserted. Abeke the deserted Stone cold she had become So frightened was she in the aftermath of her taking, She forgot that food was for eating and night was for sleeping. Abeke the lunatic Too lost in thoughts to be found Silent for too long to not scream Roaming the streets, she now asks Am I loud enough now?

First day of the first month I had met you Shooting stars Beautiful unicorns Talking donkeys The promise of us Second day of the second month You had held my hands Your eyes locked with mine The silkness & smoothness of your voice My heart skipped a beat when you said Do you know why the sun stays away? The sun loves us but it knows if it comes closer, it'd ruin us Love sometimes is departure You were telling me something I only heard what I wanted to hear 3rd day of the 2nd year You had said, A love that stays sometimes is cowardly You were my happy place And in being happy I was lost I only heard what I wanted to hear 4th day of the 3rd year Waiting at the park I spotted you Locked in another's embrace You told me Loving you Adun would ruin me For you I'm too small Someday you'd understand Lost in grief, I heard only what I wanted to hear. 5th day of the end No more tears to be shed Void larger than ever You judged yourself unw...

The lonely and despaired watches She watches the riant children running across the field All in possession of something albeit in reckless abandon The lonely watches as each gets to field The presence of others makes them aware of their differences The initiator usually with the most privileges moves first Raising to light their possessions The unabated feeling to be alike kicks in The conforming begins The lonely curses her possession for its inability to conform She bears light but ashamed she hides it As the sun slowly moonwalks drawing in it's light with it She doesn't realise they need her light The conformity is on the rise The initiator is winning The ignorant are loosing The lost is grieving My mama is right Man truly is lost photo credit: @yp. design

I haven't ever been a hopeless romantic and I've finally come to terms with declaring it seeing as it is the romantics who are always quick to make a declaration, especially when one those videos that make my stomach churn for the not so endearing mushiness comes on, the awwns and the need for tissues to dab away tears have never been a first option. I haven't ever been a hopeless romantic but that didn't change the apparent things like the need for companionship and other things. I have always liked a good laugh with someone, great conversations and the likes but the really amazing part to all of these needs were the constant changes, the simple fact that nothing was assured. I got my first Valentine gift at 11, I was the angriest little bud in my class. I had zero tolerance for nonsense, I really was one tough cookie. I didn't like boys because all they wanted to do was hug you but in spite of all that one young boy had considered me nice enough to be liked, I d...

My mama used to say Boxes and pretty ribbons The perfect description for relationships Humans; our provisions in living breathing entities Our exact needs in two legs Drawn by the noise and the pretty ribbons Man is drawn to the emptiest boxes He denies he is lonely in the midst of them Comforted by the jealousy in minds Minds of those without seeing eyes He denies he wouldn't trade all 900 fancy boxes For the comfort of just 1 filled box The box is beautiful The ribbon is pretty The dumb are jealous The man is in denial My mama is right Man is lost