Terry Tempest Williams

Just got this from a close friend and i couldnt resist the temptation to post it!!!

A manifesto, by author Terry Tempest Williams in a book on 'Creative Non-Fiction'

I write to make peace with the things I cannot control.
I write to create fabric in a world that often appears black and white.
I write to discover. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts. I write to begin a dialogue.
I write to imagine things differently and in imagining things
differently perhaps the world will change.
I write to honor beauty. I write to correspond with my friends.
I write as a daily act of improvisation. I write because it creates my composure.
I write against power and for democracy.
I write myself out of my nightmares and into my dreams.
I write in a solitude born out of community.
I write to the questions that shatter my sleep. I write to the answers that make me complacent.
I write to remember. I write to forget. I write to the music that opens my heart. I write to quell the pain.
I write with the patience of melancholy in winter. I write because it allows me to confront that which I do not know.
I write as an act of faith. I write as an act of slowness.
I write to record what I love in the face of loss. I write because it makes me less fearful of death. I write as an exercise in pure joy.
I write as one who walks on the surface of a frozen river beginning to melt.
I write out of my anger and into my passion.
I write from the stillness of night anticipating -- always anticipating.
I write to listen. I write out of silence. I write to soothe the voices shouting inside me, outside me, all around me.
I write because I believe in words.
I write because it is a dance with paradox.
I write because you can play on the page like a child left alone in
sand.
I write because it is the way I take long walks.
I write because I believe it can create a path in darkness.
I write with a knife, carving each word from the generosity of trees.
I write as ritual.
I write out of my inconsistencies. I write with the colors of memory.
I write as a witness to what I have seen. I write as witness to what I imagine.
I write by grace and grit.
I write for the love of ideas.
I write for the surprise of a sentence.
I write with the belief of alchemists.
I write knowing I will always fail. I write knowing words always fall short.
I write knowing I can be killed by own words, stabbed by syntax, crucified by understanding and misunderstanding.
I write past the embarassment of exposure.
I trust nothing especially myself and slide head first into the familiar abyss of doubt and humiliation and threaten to push the delete button on my way down, or madly erase each line, pick up the paper and rip it into shreds -- and then I realise it doesn't matter, words are always a gamble, words are splinters from cut glass.
I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient.
I write as though I am whispering in the ear of the one I love.

Learning

For the last one week or more, I have been learning from these great Binyavangha Wainaina, Doreen Baingana, Nathan Englander,Jackie Kay, Chimamanda Adichie.

Learning how to write better and how to read better
Its been so much fun! Im so sad its coming to an end tommorow.

Our parents did not suffer

I just had to post something today. I’ve almost been swallowed up my activities (work, planning my wedding, and more work...lol) Blogging is soooo different from writing for me and I’m still tryna catch up. For two weeks now I've carried tonnes of 'unwritten' stuff in my head and on tiny pieces of paper...verrrry frustrating. So here's one of them....




Our parents did not suffer
- or so they tell us
They told tales of days
when pepper was like water
-an endless river
When markets had no guards
You only came and bought what you wanted
The money tray untouched
They told us of their battle for freedom
The one we seem to claim today
“We fought for literacy”
“For the voice of the common man”
"Liberty of all minds and spirits”
-from the white man's oppression
We still fight after their Pyrrhic victory
We fight for light
For water
An average income for the common man
Equality for all men
We, the warriors are liberated captives
-of our own minds
A wasted war it is then
Shouldn’t we all just pack up
-and leave like the cowards that we are?

On a lighter note....

Dispatcher: 9-1-1 What's the nature of your emergency?

Caller: My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two

minutes apart

Dispatcher: Is this her first child?

Caller: No, you idiot! This is her husband!






Dispatcher: 9-1-1

Caller: Yeah, I'm having trouble breathing. I'm all out of breath.

Darn....I think I'm going to pass out.

Dispatcher: Sir, where are you calling from?

Caller: I'm at a pay phone. North and Foster.

Dispatcher: ! Sir, an ambulance is on the way. Are you an asthmatic?

Caller: No

Dispatcher: What were you doing before you started having trouble

breathing?

Caller: Running from the Police.

Okay..so im tired of ignoring the drama in this country. This one left a bitter sweet taste on my tongue...terrorism in Nigeria is a laughable probability but then again...isnt this a country where u must never say 'never'? anything can happen. this is just one of those confirmations. So what do u guys think????



Boko Haram ressurects, declares total Jihad

Headlines Aug 14, 2009
The Islamic sect Boko Haram has declared total Jihad in Nigeria, threatening to Islamise the entire nation by force of war.
In a statement dated August 9, 2009 and made available to Vanguard, the sect whose activities led to the lost of hundreds of lives in northern Nigeria recently declared that their leader Yusuf who was killed in controversial circumstances during the crisis, lives forever.



In what looked like a declaration of war on the rest of the nation, the Boko Haram sect said it will unleash terror in Southern Nigeria this August, beginning with the bombing of Lagos, Ibadan, Enugu to make good its words.Vanguard reproduces the statement below as issued by Boko Haram.WE SPEAK AS BOKO HARAMFor the first time since the Killing of Mallam Mohammed Yusuf, our leader, we hereby make the following statements.



1) First of all that Boko Haram does not in any way mean ‘Western Education is A sin’ as the infidel media continue to portray us. Boko Haram actually means ‘Western Civilisation’ is forbidden. The difference is that while the first gives the impression that we are opposed to formal education coming from the West, that is Europe, which is not true, the second affirms our believe in the supremacy of Islamic culture (not Education), for culture is broader, it includes education but not determined by Western Education.

I'm Excited

Yeaaaa i am so excited
Apart from the nice and sincere comments my blog has been receiving (thanks Roc) i finally got in on the creative writing workshop. This is gonna be a great thing to do! all those writers in one place with great minds! I cannot wait! I know im gonna leave the place a better writer! thats why im excited...check out the email i got.....

Thank you for applying to the FARAFINA TRUST creative writing workshop.
I’m pleased to let you know that you’ve been accepted; your writing sample is one of the twenty-five selected from the more than one thousand entries we received. The workshop, in Victoria Island, Lagos, will start on September 17 at 10 AM and end on September 26 with a literary evening open to thepublic. The workshop will be an informal class and the format willloosely be this: a lot of reading of mostly short fiction, somewriting exercises, and discussion of work produced by workshopparticipants.

I will teach for the first few days, after which Nathan Englander, Jackie Kay and Binyavanga Wainaina will continue.

Please email our Farafina Trust administrator Okey tokey.adichie@kachifo.com to let him know

1. whether you will be able to attend on ALL the workshop days

2. whether you will need accommodationIt would be very helpful to hear back from you by August 26. And I do hope you will be able to attend.

With my best wishes,
Chimamanda Adichie

Chinwe

Hello all

Its been a while i actually spent time on my posts. I got an email from a close friend of mine. She probably doesnt know it yet but this girl has got style. Im totally feeling the humor and brilliance. Here's something from her....


MY LAGOS TRIP

The JOURNEY

Flying Aero to Lagos is one of my most memorable flying experience.I always heard over the news
that Aero's aircrafts are''tear rubber'' even though I doubted it but I actually believed when I tore the rubber on
my own seat!
The flight was as smooth as silk,no turbulence and interesting.In less than 45 mins,I was in Lagos.

On arrival at Murtala Muhamed international airport,I met my fellow celebrities in the likes Dele Momodu,
Publisher of Nigeria's foremost glossy magazine Ovation and we exchanged pleasantries.
Next was Julius Agwu ,one of the biggest comedian in Naija and the CEO of crack ur ribbs entertainment.

After a while my Brother drove in and whisked to some where in Ikoyi,an ocean view joint where we took fresh
fish pepper soup.It felt really good especially with ocean breeze cooling the atmoshpere!Welcome to Lagos my
brother whispered.

THE FIRST DAY ON THE ROAD

I visit Lagos often but never had any culture shock till this time.I was forewarned that if I must meet the staff
bus at Cele bus stop at 5:30 am that I've to wake up by 4:30 am and hit the road by 5 am.Very funny,it
dawned on me that morning when I left by 4:45 am.I was suprised to find out that I was the only
human on the road out of the estate around Okota.On the road I saw ghosts,crazy
people,rabid dogs,rats etc.My shoe was making so much noise that I felt like it was another thriller but Micheal
Jackson is dead afterall!
Thank God one of my neighbour's who worked with GTBank Adetokunbo Ademola Branch leaves the house by 5am in order to get a parking space in his office,came to
my rescue subsequently.

THE FIRST DAY IN CLASS

I got to the class as early as 6:20.Class 16?Yeah,this way,I stepped in.Wow! people were already in class and I
paused for a while and wondered if they came the previous night and slept in class.I actually believed I would
be the first person in class,early bird isn't it?Early bird huh!...i wonder how i made it.

Every body was looking so cripsy,Wow funke was the bomb,she appeared so fine no wonder she didnt repeat her suit for the 25 working days we were there.!
Everyone looked so fine,for the chics I think they came from house of Tara for the makeup.The
guys were cute and razor sharp, the entire scenario looked like a movie location.This was the 'forming stage'
every one was feeling cool and waiting for who will talk to another first,interesting huh?

THE PEOPLE
By the time we took off our shell and started bonding,I could see the stuff every body was made of.
The people in class 16 were actually wonderful.One good thing about meeting people is the diverse
reasoning,beliefs,cultural and religious backgrounds.What makes one thick is the ability to tolerate one
another irrespective of all these I mentioned.Sitting close to me were Hauwa,she was about the prettiest
girl in class,soft spoken and unassuming though smart.Desmond's suits were something else,I couldnt take my eyes off them.Jennifer
captured me with his dress sense and make up was something else.
How can i forget IG,(Ibe's MATTER) how she terrorised our able (s)chairman Babatunde and how she memorised our duty to customers when the MD came.
Akin who was too tall dat even in the class picture he was taller than some people that stood on the pavement.
Another great guy equally very smart,Mazi Ibe the critic,always had one thing to condemn or the other though he is my gangster nigger with his strong igbotic accent
and his features that made me think he was related to Nkem Owoh.Loud man and with good sense of humour.
Other characters were Philip the shy guy but seems like someone that will be ruthless when u dont comply with policy,Chinenye from Seme
border,Gbolahan my man,who am guilty of violating his information confidentiality,pls 4give me.Fejiro outspoken and calculated,will do well as a politician,her
dressing was remarkable.

Other people in the class;Amanda,very endowed.God probably spent more time giving her more of that.
How can i forget Annually and Teila who snoozed off in class when the class was interesting.Stanley who talks as if he's fighting.FC&SP,EZEIKEL,EDWARD etc

THE FACILITATORS AND LESSONS
How can i forget Jumoke,nice girl but at her accent was bloody,jezz...(h)ibe and (h)edward (h)off ur phones!....suruu-lereee bus. Fejiro and Nonye can say it beta.

All the facilitators from the outsourced to internal had one thing in common.They were all very intelligent
and confident.Their confidence was either based on the knowledge they had or their acheivements.
For some,their arrogance came from their pockets.I mean how much money in their bank accounts
Very Funny,Some participants felt they could use English language untill they met Henry,the man from
GreenField Consult.My people had their esteem seriously bruised,some of us equally learnt a thing or two.
One of the facilitators advised that we live a false life by hanging out at five star hotels,live in lavishly furni-
shed apartments in Ikoyi,Lekki or V.I,buy $1000 Prada suits,$1500 Stacy Adams shoes, $350 Bvalgari
perfumes and even a $2000 Rolex watch.Sounds great huh?He definitely forgot one thing,most of us were
bloody ET's whose take home barely takes home!At the end I equally grasped something.Courtney Inglis
said we should eat using fork,knife,matchets,sickle,hoes etc.Atleast I now know the glass cup for water ,
beer,red and white wine.Albino did a good job, didn't she?Dima from Knowledge Captital turned
the class room into a Pub showing us a stale football match though he made so much sense.He will equally
do well as a preacher or better still a pastor.
The likes of Ibe and Fejiro will do better as entertainers.We probably would've bought tickets
to watch them perform live on stage.
MEETING JIM OVIA

When I arrived LMD's Adetokumbo on 27 July 2009 at 5:45 am exactly sixteen days to the end of the course,
there was something different about the environment.The building was wearing a new look.It has been
painted over night,cleaners were busier than usual,LMD staff came earlier than the trainees.'Eye service no go
end for naija'.The class room was so arranged,a few minutes to his arrival it became even serious;Red seats
to the left ash ones to the right,pictures on the wall were adjusted to a perfect point,light skinned and prettier
females to the front,the others to the back.Guys on red tie to the front,others to the back.I got scared at a
stage,this looks like second coming and if we all have such an opportunity to prepare we will make heaven
Out of tension and anxiety, people visited the convenience severally few minutes before the
arrival of the MD/CEO.

Then Jim arrived and we clapped till he asked us to stop.He had so much energy and poise.He is very
intelligent.Positive Attitude is everything as long as Jim is concerned.Using different words and analogies
to drive home the message.It still boiled down to the same thing,attitude is everything.He stayed with us
for barely 40 minutes and we all were captivated through out the period.I personally wanted to hear more
from the man who has moved Zenith bank from 118 to almost no 1.How did he do it.Right attitude of cause.
Let me not go further.I resolved to do one thing at the end of the encounter with the MD/CEO.

CONCLUSION

Staying away from work for a month in the name of learning can be very interesting and equally boring.
The food actually made it interesting the first few days,Later the new found friends spiced up the programme.
However,the knowlegde and value added will also be of immense importance.Atleast for the marketers and operators,they
discovered that the job wasnt just about deposit mobilisation and DDA pursuit,post, debit, transfer, open
accounts and attend to customers.There is actually more to banking.I foresee a banking age where
performance will not only be based on how much deposits raked in,but how much one knows.This might not
happen so soon but it will surely come to pass.The recent sack of MDs and management of five banks by CBN
is just the begining of the story and the dawn of a new phase in banking.


Thanks, Chinwe

Secrets of a second wife

work in progress



I checked my watch for the fifth time that evening. It was past eight. He said he would be at the restaurant by six. I had taken some time off work to close early but I felt stupid for that already. It was clear to me that Dumebi loved to see me in pain. In the beginning of our love affair, I conveniently used my tears as a weapon to weaken him and possibly get his attention but it did not work for long. Dumebi suddenly became as hard as a rock; he would not budge even when faced with my raw pain especially at what he did wrong. Sometimes he had the decency to hand me a tissue and if I was lucky, he would pat my back while mumbling words I could not hear. But that was in the beginning. I quickly learned to stop the tears. I only gave him a cold stare but it did not seem to bother him anyway. I knew I could never win with him. I always loose with men.
‘Damn, what is keeping this man?’
I had not stopped giving him money and he always returned the gesture in kind. After all, that was what kept us going.
Damn him. Not Dumebi but my husband. Lanre deserves my resentment. Globe trotting with his first wife, Biola like newly weds.
When I first met Lanre he was a lonely and depressed man who needed a male child to carry on his name. Biola had given him seven girls. He begged me for months to marry him. Even though I knew the money would come in handy, I was scared. Polygamy was not something I thought I would even consider in my wildest moments. But when I met Biola, I thought my case would be different. Biola was like an angel. She treated me well and promised not to be ‘bitchy’. I relaxed over a few encounters.

Let Tomorrow Wait

For Oladayo

Today is Tuesday
It’s been only two days
Why does it feel this way?
I keep counting to be sane
Till we meet again
One...Two...Three
Till we meet again


Let tomorrow wait please
Make the sounds of our laughter
Birth a new day without nightfall
Let tomorrow wait please
I would give up gifts of gold
Flairs and fervor
Just to be with you


Let tomorrow wait please
Our fears can wait till later
Tonight we'll have a ball
Let tomorrow wait please
To have and to hold
A love spiced with so much flavor
A feeling so true

Black Poet

What's not to love about you?
The only one that reminds me of my unsung past
The fresh scent of my footsteps now
the gentle nudge on my gait
As i face the future
Fearless like a tutsi warrior
Only you can bend my knees
In awe of a colorless being
My Lord, my King
Why shouldnt i write for Him?

Danfo

We had travelled through the dust
Zigzagged across the same road
Like a rattle snake
Weary from the poison of the sun
The sultry dance stops suddenly

Oya ebole ebole
The end had come before the end
Nna clutch no dey work
Oya give us our change o
Conductor…conductor….

My feet kiss the muddy earth
I cringe at the cold wetness
Mud mixed with cloud saliva
It’s all coming together

Another rattler for another destination
He kept insisting he wouldn’t take that seat
They were celestial in their white garments
He was different
He carried a bible
He didn’t wear their sultana

I didn’t see them coming
But they did anyway
Like uninvited guests
His index and middle finger
Pointed like a gun
Shielded secretly by the cloak of darkness
Searching for something?
Maybe he was

They came again
Those dreadful fingers
On my breasts
He was hoping to get lucky
Maybe grab a nipple and pinch away
My torch came on
It’s a crazy world I tell you
Crazy world

Would you please take your hands off…
Off where?
The pious voice against mine
Who would have believed?
It’s a crazy world
©Toyin Odewunmi , 2009

The middle of a heartbreak

He watched as she walked in slowly. For a second there was silence. It was rare to see an unaccompanied lady in a bar at night. But the silence didn’t last for long. The club buzzed on with its usual activity. It was a Friday night after all. The same reason he had come here. He hadn’t seen her in a while. Three months actually.

She looked beautiful in the dark room. Her gown barely covered her upper chest; she walked like a model in her six inch sandals. Red. The color of the night. He gulped his beer quickly. He shouldn’t be here. Knowing this was where they met, on a night like this. Seeing her after such a long time brought back the memories. He had come with his colleague, Lulu for a night of fun with the other boys.

They were introduced and became friends instantly. He loved the way she laughed and he marveled at the easy way she made him slip his wedding band into his jacket without being noticed. But they didn’t last. He didn’t want to cheat on Vivian. Even if he did a couple of times. He wanted to confess to her one night but he had used up all of his courage. He ended the affair.

He got up to leave. As he handed Peter the money, he heard her soft voice behind him.

"Hello Henry. Leaving so soon?"

The bar vibrated with Femi Kuti's song. He watched her slowly sip her vodka on ice. She hadn’t said much. Her dark skin looked so radiant. Like hot chocolate. He swallowed hard.

"So, Laide, what brings you here?" trying to start up a conversation.

She looked up for the first time. He noticed she was a bit nervous. She had been fiddling with her glass for sometime. He shifted in his seat.

“Henry, i thought you knew"

Her eyes glittered in the dim corner of the bar. Had she been crying? He couldn’t tell. Women wore too much make-up these days.

"Knew what" his voice shook and he hoped she didn’t notice.

"I’m carrying your child" He saw it then. Two lines across her cheeks. He watched as they descended. Slowly. He felt his heartbeat reduce. Something told him there was more but he didn’t care. He wanted her again.

"We can t-t-ake care of that" He heard a voice that didn’t belong to him but felt his lips move.

"I h-h-have ...."

"I’ve missed you too" he quickly finished for her.

There was a strange air between them. She suddenly hugged him tight and he found his hands stroking her hair.

Why am i here again?

She kissed him with a flush of emotions, her tear stained cheeks brushing against his face. He felt good. He did not think about Vivian and the kids. He thought of Laide. She belonged her with him. She was real.

"Let's go upstairs" He would pay for the upper room in the bar and they would have a great time. He wouldn’t see her again but he didn’t care.

"No Henry there's something I must tell you before we go up"

His desires were taking over. He thought she didn’t want an abortion so he said "Baby i don’t care what you have to say. I need you baaaaaad"

He didn’t know what came over him. He had her like a starved lion. He couldn’t stop. Later, they both lay on their backs. Staring at the ceiling. He held her and whispered in her ears.

"So, what was it you wanted to say?"

"Oh i thought you knew" she pouted her lips like a school girl

"I've got the virus"

Lying Hearts

So is it true
That when men stoop
Their heads can touch their scrotums?

What wisdom exists
In the roundness of a fat fool’s belly
Cannot compare with that of a child
His belly is big and round, yes
Like a fura da nunu pot
Yes instead of milk
There is green algae
Decomposing slowly like a chameleon’s carcass
The same big bellies unite both beings

So is it true
That when a man looks beyond his nose
He sees his forehead?
Even clowns dance in a king’s courtyard
Only when he wants to forget the enemies at his gates
So who fools who?
The jester who dances for the king’s money
Or the king who laughs in the face of war

So is it true
That when women go to war
Their breast milk turns sour?
Women who dance like soldiers
And chant the songs of freedom
Only do so for their children
The ones who know them not
The ones who call other women “mother”
When they come home
With the spoils of war
So you hail their victory
Or hiss in shame?
What do we know?

2007

This is it!

The news of his death hit me with mixed feelings.
First I thought it was a joke
He’d been the butt of many in recent times
Then I laughed
Then again I thought "how exactly did he die"
I pictured his thin frame on his lush bed
All white skin with no trace of a black spot
Peacefully (or not) slipping into the other world
What will he do when he gets there?
Will he do that astounding dance?
Will anyone recognize him?
I think Seun would...
He passed on last week
And I know he loved MJ
Maybe he'll ask for his autograph
- Me

A tragic ending to a troubled soul!!!!
Though I believe there is more to death or so I want to believe
But I was a big fan in my early childhood
When my aunties in university had the songs booming from the stereo
Into my head till it clung like glue
Those years when everything new fascinated one
Wearing my little brother skin tight jumping trousers
Imagining I had my own glossy black shoes
I would try out my comical version of the moon walk
My varied and distorted version of the waist trust
It use to send my aunties sprawling with laughter
Those were his days of glory
He had reached the very top of success
Literally worshipped
To fall apart, like that, from a god to less than a man
To fall to such a state of ridicule
Selah
- Ay

Rich Men

My mother once told me
Rich men don’t shit
The ones that do
It doesn’t smell
And if it smells
The aroma is like butter
My mother lied
Now I know better

Deep Sleep

He was dreaming
Of a place far far away
That’s why when they took him
He didn’t shake a breathe
They wept like they meant it
Spoke kind words like popes
What a world they said
But he kept dreaming
Lilies and roses
He must have slept for so long

Because when he woke up
It was all dark
Like an owl’s nest
The dream was over
He was very sure

But where am I?
His hands couldn’t move three inches up
His legs refused to make his favorite arc
This room is so tight
He needed air
Badly
Someone must have locked him in the cellar
Where is everyone?
He tried to call Adaora
Ada biko bia
His voice was hoarse
Strange like another tongue

That’s when he remembered
He saw her teary eyes
She was screaming his name
Uzoka o, Uzoka dim
But the lilies and roses
They looked so lovely

That’s when he remembered
He died
And was buried.

Iya

She must set forth before dawn
before the moon sleeps too deep
Before the white collared ones jug
accross the paved streets
Waving square bags
and fumbling with neck ropes.

She must set forth
Before the heavy breasted ones
sway past past with goods unsold.

She must set forth to tend her own
she is the master of multiple personality
order
she - the doctor
she - the herbalist
she - the teacher
she - the caregiver
she - the preacher
she - the lover
she - the friend

she is the mother....

The Rebel

Last night i stayed in bed all through. Waiting for him to come. Waiting to hear his footsteps on the wooden floor of my room. I wascrawled into a bun like a wounded millepede. I have to protect myself. I am like the endangered specie Ms. Grace talked about in her Biology class.

"If you tell anyone, i'll kill you"

His eyes burnt through his skull like fire and tears flowed freely down my face. Papa was a fierce looking man. He had thick, dark brows that were barely divided at the center of his forehead. His dark skin made it difficult to tell where the brows began and where they ended. I remember playing with his bushy beard when i was five. Now i'm ten.

"Things are different now, you're a woman now and i have to protect you. Its my duty as a father and i will not fail God. We must obey Him." he told me during one of his late night visits to my tiny room.

"Your bear-bear can plait shuku now" Mama often teased him. I thought he looked like Santa Claus, my very own Father Christmas. The big belly, the huge features and his wonderful black beard. But Mama was gone and i did'nt play Santa and daughter with Papa. I'm all grown up now.


"No one will know what happened to you if you die. I'll say you killed yourself, you hear" He pushed me against the wall last night. My back still hurts with pain. I started to recite Psalm 23 queitly like Mama taught me. How i miss her smell.

He leads me through the path of righteousness for his name sake
even though i walk through the valley of the......

I heard footsteps...he was coming for me....

Silence is golden

ive been thinking

ive been writing

ive been sleeping

ive been playing

ive been travelling

one thing i havent been doing

is blogging :)

Waiting for the Sun

Its been raining
Seven days since the last time we met
Ive been counting
Till we see again
Each drop, each second
waiting for the yellow sun

My head is filled with thoughts
Nightmares
Sweet fantasy
Your face invades my deepest secrets

Calm magic
stay with me forever
let our hearts engrave a sign
on this brown earth
like the lovers of old
One Romeo
The other Juliet
Stay

The Rihanna Syndrome

Our society must stop this cycle of helplessness that traps abused women. We must give them the help they need to escape the abusive spiral. But women must begin holding their loved ones to a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to violence- Jane Velez-Mitchell


Let me tell you a short story.

Girl meets boy, both fall in love. They rock the world together, or so it seems. Girl thinks she's found her soulmate and boy thinks...well never mind what boy thinks. Why? Cos boy beats up girl one day, and another day. Girl thought she couldnt take it anymore and told evereyone the dirty little secret...boy is a 'woman eater!'

Girl cries her heart out but knew she had to leave Boy alone for her own good....The End

Right?....Nope! the story doenst end there. Instead it starts all over again...Girl meets boy...yada yada yada

After the Rihanna and Chris Brown fight, i thought to myself "Good thing she dumped him. What were they doing together anyway?" Bue dear Rihanna proved me wrong by taking pity of the poor loverboy who did a lame apology song...without the words "I am sorry" appearing even once on the whole track! And in three weeks she forgot all about chris banging her head against the passenger window,in 3 weeks she forgot all about lover boy biting her hands ,punching her face and putting her in a headlock. Love, love, love...abi?

No, this is simply a classic case of battered woman's syndrome. She probably thinks she cant be happy with anyone else. she thinks he's her soulmate and life would me miseralbe without him. (Isnt that what they all sing about). however, real life is different from the 'RiBro' fantasy. I commend the Americans who observed the hazard this love story holds for young people. Not only does it send the message that domestic violence is permissible, it also portends a society where women put themselves at risk and fall into the brutal cycle of powerlessness, fear and low self esteem that often accompanies abusive relationships. To top the cake with icing, men like Chris Brown are given the liberty to remain abusive as long as they can sing a hopeless apology song after each pummeling and God help the Rihannas of this world, he would probably do an èncore at their funerals.

Miss Sanders and the Islanders

By now, Nigerian women are used to their men‘s sense of gender superiority. An average Nigerian man can acquire up to four wives and still not see a woman as more than an object to decorate his house with.
Recently, the United States ambassador to Nigeria, Ms. Robin Renee Sanders, was at the Island Club to deliver a lecture on Political Democratic Transitions. After the lecture, one of the guests, a female, pointed out that the Island Club was all male.
”In this 21st century,” Sanders replied, ”you can‘t be a leader if you exclude half of the world‘s population from being members of your club. If I had known about the all male status of this club, I would have reconsidered my invitation.”
To salvage an apparently embarrassing situation, the former Secretary-General of the Commonwealth, Chief Emeka Anyaoku got up and responded, saying, ”Thank God you didn‘t know about the club‘s all male status before getting the invitation. And now that you have pointed this out, it will serve as food for thought for the Islanders.”

Source: http://www.punchng.com/

Need i say more? ; )

Heartbreaker

Okay.......im back
I havent been Blogging for a while now but that doesnt mean i left my amebo ways(lol).
so let me just launch into a short gist, though not so hot like before but its worth talking about anyways.
I was on my way home from work one evening in a bus. The type of bus that takes you a long distance through serious traffic and if youre lucky to sleep, you'll prolly wake up 2 hours later at your stop.
Did i mention "if" and "lucky"? well, i wasnt lucky that day at all.

On getting in, i noticed a man singing loud like he wanted everyone to hear the lyrics of his praise jam (lol) This is a common occurence in buses so i sighed and prayed that it would be a short session. He started all right, warning everyone about the end-time and all. Truth is, by the time he started the sermon, i was actually on his side. Strange huh? I know the end time is fast approaching, not with all the signs we get daily.

But another thing got me on the guy's side; there was a young 'couple' sitting right beside me and they did was giggle and laugh at the preacher's comments and bad grammar. I thought to myself "Am i growing old or its just thsese people that are acting childish" lol

The girl couldnt have been more than 18 years old and the guy about 23. So i got curious (thanks to the fact that i suffered temporary insomnia) and listened to their gist. Guy was telling girl how he gets compliments from girls on his looks and all. I thought 'what the heck is this gu...'

But Mr. Macho wasnt done, he said his ex girlfriend was desperately trying to get him back but he doesnt like her anymore. "She's ugly and has scattered teeth, i cant even dream of taking her back!" I was patiently waiting for Mrs. I-love-macho to talk him down or something but all i heard was her giggling while she leaned on him like a desperate piglet. I was rather pissed but wetin be my own sef? I was only pock-nosing into something they didnt ask my opinion of. So that what amebos get!

But this really raised a question on my mind and i would like you guys to respond. Why do girls simply refuse to wise-up? They see a potential hearbreaker and still fall head over heels in love with the guy. They hear stories abotu how a girl in a similar situation got dumped by her man for someone else and they still fall for the same story by the same guy.

I got an intersting question from a friend one day. Why do girls love bad boys so much that the good guy begs and begs for their love but they seek the bad guy's attention only. I dont know o! Me i just like to see smart women who make smart choices. They learn from past mistakes and people's experiences. And for guys like Mr. Macho....i just wannt hit their heads with something!lol

The Change Zimbabwe needs

My first reaction to the news was "Noooo...how is it possible?" Not that I’m not a supporter of Morgan Tsvangirai. I just didn’t think Mugabe would give up so much power to his toughest opposition. A lot of us monitored the elections (aside following Obama's inauguration plans) praying for the same change that came to America for Zimbabwe. But our hopes were dashed when we learnt that the leader of Movement for Democratic Change (note the word 'change') was tired of running against Mugabe. Not that he had a choice anyway. lol

Mugabe had so many advantages against Morgan, yet I admire the latter's courage. Something most Labor union leaders possess, remember our own Adams Oshiomole. He dared the threats like a lion and stood still like a strong pillar. Well...until he had no choice. But like a cat with nine lives, he came again and was declared a frontrunner. Both men also had something in common; they were once declared dark horses but turned around to surprise everyone.

But the dry bones have arisen again. Tsvangirai is now the new Prime Minister of Zimbabwe. Now let’s talk about change. I'll bet the UN even gave up on that country. Everyone shouted, screamed, pleaded and even sweet talked Mugabe but nothing happened until now. This is the first time Zimbabwe would be having a PM since their independence in 1980. I find that synonymous with Obama being the first Black president of the US. The change has come.

I don’t know much about Morgan but each time I see his face, I can tell that his fierce and rugged spirit surely paid off in the end. Don’t listen to his critics because if they were in his shoes, they would have bolted long before the elections sef. How do you explain a man who barely completed secondary school education contesting against the erudite, eighty-four year old Mugabe who has SEVEN! university degrees. Haba! The guy has some nerve o. But it paid off in the end.

Now, don’t ask me why I’m carrying on and on about him. He’s just the PM and Mugabe remains the Presido. I know, I know. But did you even imagine that Mugabe would give 1 slot of authority to anyone? Judging from the guy's addiction on the substance called power, I’d say 'no'. But guess what? Morgan's party can to have 13 slots and Mugabe's 15. How’s that for change?

Phantom

She packed her bags
Twisted brown hair in a bun
So it’s finally happened
Her greatest fear had come upon her
Like a disease without a cure
She felt like a ghost
Slowly lifting out of her form
Only fear keeps her static
Not this way
We were meant to be forever
She whispered to her weary heart
Loneliness is better than death
It’s the death of a soul
Never to know love again
Goodbye my friend
You were closer than a lover

Wonderful Love

For all those who think I’m a playa hater (whatever that means) I have decided to astonish and possibly disappoint you. Though I’m not a love rabbi like my good friend NK. I am a love scholar and I’m loving it!
I’m in love with an amazing man (yes, he’s a man) who cares about me. He might be a man but he’s a different spec…trust me on that one. I have tested and tried him in so many ways and he still remains true. This is why I love him. I don’t think I can stand myself, let alone anyone coping with my tantrums and complexities.
He makes me feel like singing India Arie’s song…..The Truth"

[Spoken:]
Let me tell you why I love him

[Chorus:]
Cause he is the truth
Said he is so real
And I love the way that he makes me feel
And if I am a reflection of him then I must be fly cause
his light it shines so bright I wouldn't lie

[Verse 1:]
I remember the very first day that I saw him
I found myself immediately intrigued by him
Its almost like I knew this man from another life
Like back then maybe I was his husband and maybe he was my wife
And even, the things I don't like about him are fine with me
Because its not hard for me to understand him because he's so much like me
And its truly my pleasure to share his company
And I know that it's God's gift to breathe the air he breathes

[Repeat Chorus]

[Verse 2:]
How can the same man that makes me so mad
-do you know what he did-[spoken]
Turn right around and kiss me so soft
-girl do you know what he did-[spoken]
If he ever left me, I wouldn't even be sad, no
Cause there's a blessing in every lesson
And I'm glad that I knew him at all

[Repeat Chorus]

I love the way he speaks
I love the way he thinks
I love the way he treats his mama
I love that gap in between his teeth
I love him in every way that a woman can love a man from personal to universal but most of all its unconditional

-you know what I'm talking about-[spoken]
Thats the way I feel
-and I always will-[spoken]

There ain't no substitute for the truth
either it is or isnt
cause he is the truth
you see the truth it, needs no proof
either it is or it isnt
Cause he is the truth
Now you know the truth by the way it feels
and if I am a reflection of him then I must be fly
cause he is yes he is
I wonder does he know [echoes]


In the spirit of valentine… whoever cares much could still remember their loved ones. And my heart longs to go somewhere far away, to walk the shores of a quiet beach with my lover and friend. No cares in the world…if wishes were horses, writers would ride? Ok whatever…the point I’m trying to make is people you sometimes take for granted would make life lonely if they weren’t there at all.

Bush meat

clearly, america has made mince meat of the guy
but it still cracks me up all the time:

'The vast majority of our imports come from outside the country.'
- George W. Bush

'If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure.'
- George W. Bush

'One word sums up probably the responsibility of any Governor, and that one word is 'to be prepared'.'
-George W. Bush

'I have made good judgments in the past. I have made good judgments in the future.'
- George W. Bush

'The future will be better tomorrow.'
- George W. Bush

'We're going to have the best educated American people in the world.'
- George W. Bush

'I stand by all the misstatements that I've made.'
- George W Bush

'We have a firm commitment to NATO, we are a part of NATO. We have a firm commitment to Europe . We are a part of Europe '
- George W. Bush

'Public speaking is very easy.'
- George W. Bush

'A low voter turnout is an indication of fewer people going to the polls.'
- George W. Bush

'I have opinions of my own -- strong opinions -- but I don't always agree with them.'
-George Bush

'We are ready for any unforeseen event that may or may not occur.'
- George W. Bush

'For NASA, space is still a high priority.'
-George W. Bush

'Quite frankly, teachers are the only profession that teach our children.'
-George W. Bush

'It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it.'
- George W. Bush


On a serious note though, there's movie preview i saw(titled "W") if anyone knows where i can watch it...pls lemme know.
Peace!

Dining with celebrities

Just gisting...dont take me serious

Okay so yesterday was a friend's birthday. He wanted us to hang out after work. I wasn’t really up to it but I wanted to give him a birthday hug before I hurry home(plus my SH was waiting for me with my friend so I had no excuse) After driving through the traffic on the island just to get to three streets away, I was tired and burning to go home. But i put on my best attitude cos hey....it’s my friend's birthday. My SH met me at the entrance and he kinda hinted me that we would be dining with a celebrity from a reality show. He said her name but it didn’t click. So i thought the face should definitely click.

Unfortunately for her...it still didn’t click. She's a nice young celeb, not those ones with nasty attitudes. So I relaxed and tried to enjoy the conversation. All five of us gisting and laughing. Two celebs, three non-celebs...good combo. Usually, when I’m in a place, I take in all the faces around me. So I sat there laughing at the gist, and taking the scene in....first table...three young ladies gisting (one was looking around like me so I fixed my gaze on the next table...two young men eating (looking around too) now the third table had three people, one of them a celeb of the celebs, even I could not deny his face. (lol) The other was a regular celeb, and the third was a celeb's friend (which makes her a celeb right? I think lol)

I was beginning to enjoy the scene so much that I think I must have imagined the next occurrence. Remember the celeb of the celebs I told you about? Well, he just stared directly at me and said "Right thurr" Don’t ask me what that means. But that moment marked my baptism into the world of celebrities.

Getting attention from people can be addictive...trust me. Or why else would the silly thing stare at me for a long time and still have the audacity to mouth those gangster words? Did I like the attention? Yes. So I don’t blame him for thinking he's got what it takes to make me swoon (no I didn’t swoon) I just acted like it wasn’t me. He was being rude but wanted to be noticed, something they all want cos they’re addicted, remember? so I didn’t give him the pleasure. Why? Cos I’m not a celeb...I’m a superstar and superstars don’t mix with celebs.

lol...I wish

Fashola's Lagos

As the country commends the metamorphosis of Lagos, I will join many Nigerians to congratulate our innovative Raji Fashola. The irony however, is that I never thought the day would come when Lagos would be blessed with a leader like him. (at least not in my life time). Now I guess I’m eating my words and they don’t taste so good.

Truth is, many people are as guilty as I am, and I never supported Raji from the outset. I had many things against the guy; first he had to be the incumbent’s protégé and I wondered why he couldn’t speak for himself. Also, the likes of ---- and---- blew me away with the suaveness and fluency. Compared to the quite Raji who could barely be heard even above the loud speakers (or maybe it was I who wasn’t listening). Other aspirants seemed to have garnered all our attention. Their speeches inspired me to think maybe for once, Lagosians would vote right and allow the change we need.

With the results out and Raji declared as winner, I was also among the crowd that cried foul. And we waited for him to prove the enlightened, exposed and educated facet of the state right. Unfortunately, he hasn’t given us the pleasure to see him fail, at least not to my knowledge. I hate to join the bandwagon praising Fashola every single moment they get but I still cant help doffing my hat (not that I like wearing hats) to this guy I thought didn’t have the verve it takes to transform Lagos state. He seems to have a determination stronger than his critics could have imagined, or else they would have tried harder during the campaign.

What happens when you have a governor in this country who just doesn’t like using sirens? Not because he wants you to like him (yea, we all know what strategy) but because he just doesn’t like noise. Now I heard him say that and went “yeah right, Raji don’t sweet talk me puuleeze” but he proved me wrong by consistently driving through Lagos without the use of the sirens. What you get is a saner Lagos.

What do you get when a governor personally apologizes for his subject’s mistake? The navy officer that authorized the physical attack of a Miss Uzoma in Lagos recently could have been knighted for his bravery in another administration for all we care but Fashola took charge. Now, I know he isn’t superman and he is only carrying out the duties expected of a governor, but the question is “When last did we have one so responsible?” It’s almost like a luxury walking through a place like Oshodi and wondering where all the dirt went to. What happened to the heaps of nylons and the smell of feaces cross the rail way? Then you wonder why we all have to use the pedestrian bridge to get to the other side of the road (uncomfortable for people who just love running across that road right?) And before you think it’s all a façade, the armed mobile police men are on ground to remind you that Lagos must change, whether you like it or not. I must confess, this whole phase excites me like a child waiting for Christmas morning.

Talking about Christmas, have you seen the new look of Lagos this festive season? It makes you wonder if you were somewhere far from home. The fun part is that these initiatives are not as expensive as the embarrassing excuses we’ve had from our past administrators; it’s all a mind thing. If you package a five dollar ring in a beautiful case probably worth more than the ring, it’s very possible that the ring would assume a higher value to someone who isn’t aware of the cost. If Nigerians can drive through their neighborhood and have a reason to smile or even take pictures to show others, then we are on the brink of change.

Sadly though, many Nigerians are complaining. Yes, we know Rome wasn’t built in a day but these people want more action than decorations and promises of a better, brighter or rewarding future. They would rather have that future today. The truth is, we cannot change a nation without changing the people themselves. If you mount a thousand and one thrash bins on a street, I know some people who will still litter the ground with dirt. If you force people to wear helmets on bikes, I know some people who would rather hold those helmets than wear them for safety. Its all in the mind isn’t it? They give excuses such as the fear of ritualists and possibility of catching skin diseases, leprosy and even HIV from these helmets! I do not mean to disregard these fears because I also have my issues against the helmet law. Why would the FRSC enforce a law when even the Okada riders themselves are not well trained on how to drive their bikes? I am of the opinion that asides forcing people to wear safety gadgets on bikes let the bike riders be zoned accordingly and trained intensively on safety on the roads, after which they are issued with licenses allowing them to do their business. I am not an advocate for the ban of motorcycles, not because it’s not a good idea but because we still don’t have what it takes. Or how do you want people like me to get to work on time against the mad traffic?

So, I agree we have more pressing issues but our governor seems to have discovered a secret that it’s the little drops that make an ocean.


©Oluwatoyin Odewunmi
2009 Jan.

Love in Due Season- Chapter 6

Alika’s journey to find her father was easier than what lay ahead. The train had been on wheels for days across the borders of Port Harcourt, Benin, Congo and now, it was finally heading for Accra. At first her chest seemed to pound with the engines but she was grateful for her laptop. Now that the battery had gone out, Alika was thinking of a better way to kill the anxiety.

“Don’t you think you need an aspirin for that headache” a voice cooed in her ears. She turned to see the medicine man that had been advertising secretly on the train since they boarded. No one had the courage to stop him or report him to the officers, except Alika’s seat partner, Bobo.

“Brother, can’t you read? “No haukin is allowed here” he gestured at the red and white stickers pasted by the passenger seats.

But passengers only laughed harder at Bobo’s mispronunciation and he quickly coiled in his seat. The medicine man took that as an opportunity to announce his potent tongue unlocking syrup that would help people like Bobo with the pronunciation of difficult oyibo words. More laughter erupted from the train and Alika almost felt sorry for Bobo, she would have tried to ease his embarrassment but her novel had to be completed, so instead, she bent her head over the laptop and tried to shut Bobo and the medicine man out.

Now, the medicine man was staring her in the face and for the first time, she realized he wasn’t even Ghanaian. He had tribal marks like that of a Yoruba person but she didn’t ask him.
“I don’t have a headache, thanks”
“But you do” his voice sounded like a TV advert. Alika almost laughed but she stifled it to respect his profession at least. “I see you squinting all the time behind those thick glasses of yours, you must have a headache. Those things look like the bottom of a Coca-Cola bottle”
Alika looked round to be sure no one heard his statement. This guy surely has some nerve. She nervously pushed the tip of her glasses further up her nose, something she does whenever she gets nervous. For whatever reason, the medicine man made her nervous.

“So what say you?” he grinned to show unbelievably white teeth against his very dark gum. His eyes were huge and almost bulging out of the sockets, each eye had a red vein by the side. This made him look scary but his large grin often put people at ease but Alika couldn’t stop staring. She was scared of him anymore, now she found him an interesting character.

“Okay, I’ll have the aspirin”
“Oh no mon Cherie, no aspirin for an angel. I will give you herbs and your headache will be gone forever. All those oyibo drugs don’t help us, they are slow killers. African medicine is the best remedy I tell you”

“But I thought you had it all packaged and printed.”
“Yes I do, but that is just what you corporate people call branding”
He handed the small pack of yellow powder to Alika.
“Thank you. So what brings a medicine man to Ghana?”
“The same thing that brings a beautiful lady here”
“I have come to find my father, Kofi Appiah”

Just for the Sistas...and the men who love them

Maybe I need to understand my place as a woman and let the men do their thing. But wait…that would mean my pride against the static male ego. Recently in the middle of a heated argument, a man called me proud but isn’t that supposed to be a compliment? So I gracefully accepted his kind words but my friend went too far when he said I was…what’s that word again? Phony...psychotic...men! (Real spelling E-G-O) Like I said, I'm still learning my place as a woman and I often sob at the thought of my life as the weaker sex. The life of a woman is almost pathetic; she will forever pay for leading the man astray with the forbidden fruit. Will she ever be forgiven, even in eternity? When will she be free from the fear of assault, rape, and the one that faces me even now…the fear of being herself, the freedom to express her opinion without a man breathing down her neck…or fellow women casting the evil eye on her, just for daring to be herself. I think sometimes I can help her tell her story , help her find her voice in the midst of the rancor, in the midst of the expectations -- from parents, the society and her man. But like I said, I’m still learning the art and mastery of the male ego.

I love African men and their sense of humor but I just don’t think I get their views on politics, romance, family…I could go on and on. But I’m trying to be an African man’s woman so you see why I must understand their ways? Ever heard of the phrase “I can’t possibly do that because I’m the Man” or “You shouldn’t do that because you’re a woman.

Ladies, don’t even try the 21st century thingy on them; they know the trick (sigh). Ever heard that popular phrase “Men are from Mars…women are probably aliens”? (Well, you heard it from me!) So when that guy holds the door for you, carries your purse, feeds you breakfast in bed…hold the mushy thoughts…if he’s black, him back!

• Dedicated to all my daring black brothers who are not ashamed of having a successful sista by their side. Who are not governed by the laws of give and take, who are not controlled by their ego and you know what!
• Dedicated to all my faithful soul sistas who know how to respect and love their men. Who keep it simple even though they’ve got it going on

Whispers of the wind

whispers of the wind...
in the dark starry night
my lover beckons me
with lips that dripped desire
I close my eyes to behold
a portrait of love, like a dream so real
lost listlessly in the ambience of your embrace
why wait forever?
why die with the thought that I would never
hold you in my arms
the fortune-tellers say we re not to be
my heart says otherwise
could there be a better soothsayer than this love I feel

in whose arms my heart was nestled
this love that enchanted my heart
this love that intoxicated my senses
now I am like a blind man
wandering by the sea
a heavy wind is blowing my way
Does it portend well
Or does it gust with gloom
The trees bows ominously welcoming it arrival
The leaves shudder with apprehension
The moon stares; an unwilling audience
Tell me what you bring from my beloved?

Echoes of a love once lost
The rhythm in my broken heart
Just like this angry sea
All tales of our love gone sour
Or so it seems
My heart gently whispers in the madding turmoil
Even the raging seas must calm
My precious love once gone can be found
And lost rhythms regained
Time mends the most broken places
Therefore I will wait

Cryptic

My grandfather and me
Beguile under the palm tree
In front of our burnt red hut
Sprawled on a torn raffia mat

Like a couple of yogis
Heads bent, sculls kissing
He put his thumb in spitted sputum
Fourteen lines… he drew

Five in two circles
“Your future is like the proud moon
Shun those white witches
They will come for you
On the night of the morrow
Despise them with your ancestral blood
They are bearers of sorrow”

“Old one, how must I learn to speak
Like the white witch if I so despise him?”

“The black man is no fool
Obrume, you carry the heart if an eagle”

He placed four stones
One for the North
The others for the East
The west and the South
So he said….

My eyes beheld the stars
Falling from the black sky
Down to the brown earth
The dust had licked my father’s signs.


©Oluwatoyin Odewunmi

On the Brink

Musing on my way to work this morning, I was blessed with the burden of shutting the world out.

The blaring sounds from dysfunctional loud speakers, where CDs and tapes are sold and the unfortunate customer has to scream the CD title to the seller for a sale. I was shutting out the putrid smell of gutter coming from the garage and the stench of cheap perfume from the bus passengers.

I was so determined to reflect that the curses uttered by the conductors didn’t bother me one bit. The engine of the bus made noises like a train but I remained undaunted. After all, it’s the last day of the year. The day everyone is supposed to reflect, make New Year resolutions, fast and pray.

I am fascinated with the fact that each year held more hopes, dreams, and more responsibilities. The thought of another year gives me goose pimples, partly out of excitement and also out of anxiety. The truth is, “I’m getting older, yet I feel younger than my 20 something years on this planet” or not.

I recall switching channels the other day and I briefly stopped at cartoon network. I didn’t linger on like I would normally on CNN but some years back…maybe 2 years back, I didn’t joke with cartoon network. Now, my interests seem to have taken a paradigm shift. This scares me but I’m also enthralled by the thought of “growing older”. It’s in reality a fun thing but on deeper reflection, more responsibilities aren’t fun anymore.

On past New Year’s eves, I never really bothered about writing goals for the year or things to pray for. I just lighted the fireworks and ate the chicken. Now, it actually bothers me that on the last day, I still don’t have any goals for the approaching year. Its not like I don’t have these goals somewhere in my head but writing them down is the concern.

But I still can’t get over the change taking place in my mind. My concerns have veered from girl and boy stuff to the global economic crisis, all in one or two years? It makes me laugh at myself sometimes. But now I know the meaning of “the young at heart”. It is very easy to allow the “grown up issues” give us wrinkles especially when all you hear daily are the Ugandan rebels killing scores of people on Christmas day. To think they couldn’t pick a better day to spoil the taste of your turkey.

When you go to bed praying the strikes on Gaza would end, Israel wakes you up with a promise not to stop the war. The world, your world, our world… seems paranoid and it’s only natural for us to adapt to this paranoia or maybe grow a few wrinkles.

Now, if you think the heat is outside the shores of our beloved country, think about the Niger delta crisis, and think about how many innocent people have lost their lives in the “struggle”. Think about the Jos crisis that came like a whirlwind and left a lot of people dead for no reason. And with all the issues, our leaders either choose to enrich their pockets or act dumb. Except of course someone can tell me what inspired our dear president to pick his cabinet members.

It’s a sad story but I choose to be happy no matter what. That’s why my New Year resolution is to watch more of cartoon network and buy comedy movie tickets than read politics and watch CNN.

Truth is New Year resolutions are faster broken than made.

Love in Due Season (chapter one)

The first kiss

For Oshare, the moment would be when she first kissed him. She had felt so full with emotions that night. She suddenly felt like the waves of an ocean were about to drown her soul. Her heart was like a bottle that was so full it could take no more, she wanted to topple over and reveal her secret desires to him. She was also very angry. He just acted so normal Sometimes she wondered if he truly had feelings for her or what exactly did she see in his eyes that night? When they got to the river that divides their journey, he stood under their favorite spot, the large baobab tree."So…goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow""good night," she heard thundering from the cage in her chest. She knew she couldn’t let another night pass without letting him know."What are you doing tomorrow? Can I come to, "that was when she did it. Slowly without a warning, she drew his head closer to hers with her right hand and she put her lips to his. It was the briefest she had ever had. He pulled away so gently that she wanted to smack herself in the face for doing it anyway. Maybe he's one of those weird ones who prefer boys or maybe he wasn’t just attracted to her.But Oshare won't forget that night. She won’t forget the brisk way they turned their separate ways that night, the way her heart fluttered with a million melodies, the way the stars shone ever so brightly, the way she greeted Mathias cheerily at the gate even when she knew it was way past her curfew time. The way her bed seemed warmer and her sleep so heavenly. She just can't forget the night she first kissed Kofi Appiah.

Phew

So...it's 2009....and to think i created this blog in 2007?!! all i needed was some verbal pushing from my friend and colleague(Lanre) to "dig" out this blog.
And i intend to get my acts together this time.(lol)
So here's to a frutiful blogging year...and i hope you find this place as comforting and inspiring as i intend!!
Voila!