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Showing posts from 2018

WHAT MY MOTHER AND DOLLY PARTON TAUGHT ME

When the cassette tape played, I was seldom interested in the lyrics—how likely was a 6-year-old to care? Yet I could feel sorrow, compassion, and sadness in the singer’s voice. I imagined someone hurting her. Was she hit, betrayed, lonely? Her voice held a mystery I wanted to uncover, but she was miles away from me. Since I could not unravel the enigma, I let the thought go. As I grew older, my mother did not grow tired of playing the cassette tape. I could not hide from hearing it either, unless I could afford a roof over my head. One evening, during the holiday and with no homework to attend to, I had to ask her. ‘Mum, who’s this person always sad when they’re singing?’ ‘You mean all this time, you don’t know it’s Dolly Parton? And who told you she’s sad? When you truly express how you feel, it is not always a sad tale, my girl. Do you even know what this song playing is about?’ ‘Yes, ma. It’s her coat of many colours, just like the one Joseph had, right?’ ‘Eh en. Only hers was give...
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JOB FULFILLMENT

JOB FULFILLMENT It is a widely accepted belief that finding fulfillment on a job comes with the money you get - your 30 day paycheck. One cannot deny the fact that monetary rewards are essential. However, there are people whose frustration with their job has no ties with its monetary value. Some could not care less how much their monthly reward is. What they seek is the inner joy, peace and the drive that comes with knowing that you are attending your 9-5 job. Our example is not so farfetched after all. You walk into a bank on a sunny afternoon and despite the cool air from the air-conditioning system to calm heated nerves, the teller you are queued up with seems so far away and you could see the tell-tale sign of tiredness and frustration from the creased elbow of the attendant. She can’t wait to see you leave the hall as she nonchalantly takes the slip from you and offhandedly tells you to drop the control copy in a box meant for the purpose. You wonder what her problem cou...
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THE ORANGE SELLER

THE ORANGE SELLER I had never seen an aboki so fair selling oranges. You could tell that his shelter for a long time had been under the sun. But the fairness was still obvious. He stood there under the bridge with his wheel barrow filled with unpeeled oranges, waiting for descending customers. I was attracted by the yellow oranges and so I walked up to him to sell me four for a hundred naira. And this was how I noticed many things about this man and in turn, learnt something from him. He had mastered the art of orange peeling after so many cuts on his fingers. He peeled them like they were his tender little babies; one in less than a minute. This was not one of those abokis you’ve seen selling fruits. When he asked me how many I wanted, his pidgin did not give him away to any tribe. He sounded like a man of no tribe and had the looks of a middle aged maybe from Chad. He still had his low dark hair with baby curls even though signs of baldness were becoming obvious. He had o...
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THE CIVIL SERVICE: A DREAM JOB OR NOT?

  THE CIVIL SERVICE: A DREAM JOB OR NOT? The Civil service is not my dream job. It is not the kind of place I see myself working because if you look at it I see it as a place with a lot of redundancy; people just sit down doing nothing. It has never been my dream job but “dem say condition dey make crayfish bend.” I am not unemployed but it seems like I am... Generally there are civil servants who are doing well in their place of work. They tend to be very busy especially those working in federal agencies, like the FIRS, the Central Bank, NDIC, NIMISA and so on. They operate more like a private sector so there’s serious competition in those places so you have to be at your best; your A game. But in the mainstream of the civil service; both the federal and state, there is redundancy. People just go to the office, sit without doing anything and at the end of the month they take home peanuts. This is why you see many civil servants leaving their offices to do other menial ...
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How Prepared Are You? By Elisha Seyitan

How Prepared Are You?  By Elisha Seyitan I am sure the title of my essay may come across as some damnation tract topic. Put your mind at rest for I am not one cut out for that though, not to say the concept of salvation should be undervalued. However, the muse was gotten thanks to a Facebook reminder I got earlier this week regarding a self mission I had undertaken in relation to my dreams. After gaining remarkable exposure in the course of my self-development last year, I had picked up interest in the field of marketing communication with bias for Strategy. The reminder resonated in me exactly 12 months later not because it was a reminder of what I had said but the fact that I am currently living my dreams slowly but steadily; surely it will end up shaking my generation amongst other things ( my conviction, remember to have yours). The cogent drive of my article is the attitude I put towards those words of mine. May I say that I did not just stop at expressing my inte...
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PREJUDICED HUMAN CHARACTERISTICS

PREJUDICED HUMAN CHARACTERISTICS We always have sweet names for repulsive human behaviours all in the façade of easy identification. Tribalism, racism, chauvinism, feminism, sexism, totalitarianism, subjectivism, egocentrism, and all other "isms" that have turned the world up-side-down. These prejudices are everywhere you go even deep inside our spirits, souls and bodies. It is so difficult for one to just live freely as created by God that compromise becomes the only moving train which could take you to your destination and sometimes it ends up being your final destination. Have you ever been told that you are too fat to be a front desk agent but would fit as a writer who’d work from home instead? Have you been asked to send a picture of your “real face” while applying for a Personal Assistant job? Have you been told that you’re too skinny to be a sales agent but should opt for modeling instead or too dark and short to be an usher or too plain to be the face of...
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OWO NI KOKO (MONEY IS THE MAIN THING)

OWO NI KOKO (MONEY IS THE MAIN THING) One of my young customers walked into my small shop some time ago to collect his sewn wears and mistakenly stepped on another customer waiting to be measured by me. At first I just stood there watching the show: “Do you know who I am? I’m sure you never saw the four walls of a university that is why you cannot even say sorry after stepping on me with those cheap shoes of yours” “For your information I am a graduate, a lawyer for that matter, with a second class upper if your grandmother does not know of it. Maybe you are the one who needs to go back to school to learn some manners for you lack one obviously.” I did not know who the more frustrated customer was. Were manners now acquired from going to the university? These two men could not even pay the initial fee I charged them and there they were insulting one another; a show of educational power. And as we say today “who education epp?” I was not ready to even settle them both;...
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CHANGING THE UNREALISTIC NARRATIVE OF THE NIGERIAN EDUCATION

CHANGING THE UNREALISTIC NARRATIVE OF THE NIGERIAN EDUCATION “Your education is your meal ticket in life.” Those were the words of my father and like every other child present in the socioeconomic jungle called Nigeria; we believe that education will solve our life problems. My over two-decades-and-a-half-life journey as a Nigerian, in Nigeria clearly shows that this view is totally unrealistic to the contemporary average Nigerian Youth’s reality.   After all, I have gone through the errors of reciting multiplication tables, to never understanding the reason why I have to take 16   subjects in Secondary school and settling for what my country; through Jamb, feels is best for me to study (I was lucky I loved English). Not to disrepute our educational system, but I must say that what is taught in our schools is totally different from the reality we meet outside. We were never trained to think like problem solvers, there was more reputation placed on grades rathe...
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Human Resources: Part 2

Human Resources: Part 2 Mololuwa eventually returned to the mini office the following day, to fulfill all righteousness and convince herself that she had all the self-control in the world to do the right thing; who knows, luck might just shine one her. The reception room was very busy with people this time, unlike the previous day when she felt important enough to get the job, being the only one that had showed up for the interview. Now she understood why she was told to return the next day. There were youths and even grandpas present there now, all eager to get hired. They had on desperate expressions, especially the men. Mololuwa could not breathe freely anymore for the air had been choked with nervousness, desperation, anxiety and every other punitive feeling one could think of. The security guard was quite friendly this time as he smiled at her and told her not to worry about the day’s register but to go straight into the office space with the other pack of wolves who...
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Human Resources (part one)

Human Resources (One) S he woke up earlier that morning, ready to take on an interview that would probably click this time. She had applied for an HR job with a genuine firm, after she had googled the name:  Prime Platform resources. Three days earlier she had got the email to come for an interview due to the satisfied credentials they had received in the application process. She thought about looking good but simple; she did not want to be debased like the last interview she had with a pension firm where her interviewer bashed her for putting on a three quartered pant trouser to an interview looking like a flippant candidate. She never concluded if that was why she didn’t get the job. This time was going to be different. She would make sure no one held her in low esteem just because of her appearance. She was going to look like her 24 year old self. The night before the star day, she brought out her best corporate white shirt that she had never worn after she was given...
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WHAT ARE YOU THANKFUL FOR?

As the final hours of the year slide quietly away, it is only human to look back, tracing the paths of our days, sifting through moments that have shaped us. With the twilight of 2025 upon us, will you gather at a humble or grand table, surrounded by laughter, silence, or absence? Perhaps you have already counted your blessings—each one a dim light in the dark. Or maybe your mind is busy weaving hopeful blueprints for the dawn of 2026. Just the other day, I watched the children in CoComelon sing their gratitude for life’s simplest gifts—things we often overlook, absorbed as we are in our hurried routines. How easily we forget that wonder. If we slow down, just for a little time, we all have so many things to be grateful for. Even the most ordinary blessings are worth our quiet thanks. In this spirit of reminiscence, my heart swells with gratitude for more than I can name, but here are a few gifts that shine especially bright: Sanity Good health A job/craft The gift of memor...
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IF HAIR COULD TALK

  “You know, I get nervous by the sight of unkempt hair” “And why’s that?” “Well, it makes me imagine the worst of the man or woman in question.” “But you can’t always have clean cut or well-made hair. It’s hard work and who has time for such beauty strife. Or why do you think Beyonce sang that beauty hurts?” “I’m not talking about beauty. Rather I mean responsibility. Bad hair must surely birth a bad day. Look, I hate seeing my wife without her hair done or at least covered. I blame it on Medusa. Should have never seen that movie, T he Clash of the Titans .” “Hahaha, that’s just cracking! Now you blame your sick theory on a movie? Buddy, your wife must be tolerating a whole lot of shit from you. Cut her some slack and leave her hair alone. If you continue shaving yours all the time, you’d be bald before you’re even 40, man.” I’ve been thinking. A thousand tongues there would be if our hair could talk. Imagine, a million heads would have a zillion tongues and more! The ...
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MORALITY IN TRANSIT

It was a cool, quiet evening—one of those rare days when the city seemed to exhale. I boarded the bus home from work, grateful for the unusual calm. The vehicle was only half-full, a welcome contrast to the usual chaos of rush hour. The driver was sealed off in his little cubicle up front, and we passengers were scattered like leaves on a still pond. Among them was a man who immediately caught my eye—late 60s, wearing a crisp white cap that read ' Chosen One' in bold black letters. He was flipping through a newspaper with such frantic energy it looked like he was searching for something long lost—or perhaps arguing with the headlines themselves. Opposite him sat another older man, though you wouldn't know it from his clothes. He was dressed like a teenager—like someone clinging to relevance with both hands. Then, out of nowhere, the man in the cap spoke, loud and clear, as if addressing a courtroom rather than a quiet bus. 'Does time determine what's right or wrong...
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