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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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THE MEET UP

  THE MEET UP “I dreamt I missed the rapture,” he said to me. “There are terrible things I have been thinking of lately and I know that is the reason why.”   I asked what terrible thoughts have been dancing to the disco in   his head and he answered, after arranging his thoughts properly so that God will not send an angel to whoop his mouth, “YOU. Please do not say anything. Let me speak my mind as quickly as possible because I might never confess this to you. I want you to be my wife. However, I know God will not accept you because you  are of the world; you put on trousers, makeup, you attend parties and dance to corrupt music. These are the only obstacles to us being together in holy matrimony. You have to turn to God so he can save you and we will both  make heaven together.” I recalled when we used to p lay in secondary school. Lawrence was the people’s guy that stepped into the room and everyone went  woahh . He did not think of rapt...
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DO YOU THINK THAT SANITARY TOWELS SHOULD BE SUBSIDIZED LIKE THE CONDOM?

Since she started buying her sanitary towels with her hard-earned money, she opened an excel sheet where she created data, updated every month. This also accommodated the contributions of her parents during her early years and each month after an update, the amount would draw closer to buying land in Epe… She hardly used condoms but her boyfriend buys a pack once in four months, sometimes 6 months. Once he got it for free. It was a souvenir at a wedding party. It lasted for al most a year…   They call it KONJI! When it falls upon you, it is like an electric shock. If you are strong enough it would go as soon as it came. If you are not, well you will have to do “the do” although making sure it's with someone pure of any infectious disease. If you are not sure then you have t o use a raincoat so no devilish rain will drench you towards death. The condom becomes your PADI, that's if your KONJI a llows you to even think up to this level…   From Medieval times, menstrua...
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ONE WAY POLICE

“Driver you no sabi anything. Abeg give me space make I show you how to beat this yeye traffic wey be like wetin winch dey invoke to life.”   That black uniform, that desperate voice making us question what the law stood for these days, was part  of us Lagosians returning     home from our various hard-knock lives, on a Friday evening, 7:00 pm. From Obalende to Yaba we prayed for a free passage since Lagos signed a con tract with “go slow.” It is not the only thing slow about us.    The Police become your friend when all odds are against the populace. They can even break the law to make you safe. Isn’t it ironic? The Police become your friend when it rains and they need shelter in your store or your vehicle or your shack. The police were more than a friend to us when we found ourselves positioned in a single spot for an hour. Traffic became our common enemy. Passengers cursed, drivers lamented: “petrol wen pesin buy today now go finish today.” Radios w...
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HUSBAND OR MATERIAL?

“Look at his feet. Check that he puts on good shoes. Make sure that mohawk, gallas and parting are not part of his hair-cuts. Hey! Don’t forget the skinny jeans and body hug shirts. Yes! Remember he must be educated. God forbid he is from the East; an Anambra indigene! Pray he has the AA genotype. Well… he could be comfortable but rich would be better-the best. Make life easy for everyone by ensuring he is God-fearing, a Christian. Also, it won’t be a crime to google his family history to be on the safe side. But remember that height     is a necessity these days for success. Don’t introduce your lineage to the dwarf society. Don’t worry… nothing is impossible for them that trust God. It is well my daughter.” I would like to travel to space, another planet; Pluto, Mars, Neptune, Jupiter. Earth has not favoured me so far. Mother’s words are my morning alarm and night lullaby. I wait, breathe, sleep, talk, dance, eat and drink her words not because they are poetically p...
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ALIEN

“Do not eat like an animal Bomi. Wherever are you from? I told you to close your mouth while munching or you just might make others lose their appetite.” “Sorry Mrs." Said Bomi. “It is I’m sorry ma!” Said Mrs Dagogo. Bomi tried to adhere to her warnings by sitting straight, taking his elbows off the dining table and chewing with mouth closed, which lasted but five minutes. Unconsciously, provoking sounds ca me out of his mouth, food particles dropped on the table and the tarred floor was marred. The fork given to Bomi only decorated his right hand while the left did the job of the fork. These did not go unnoticed by Mrs who cursed herself for her action which she considered stupid and a spur of the moment. She was on her way to work that morning when she witnessed an angry m ob pour ing their wei ghts on     a little boy accused of theft. Pleading on his behalf, she asked what he had stolen. It was an apple. Mrs paid the mob for twenty apples and brought the little ...
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WHAT I’VE NOTICED DURING THIS PERIOD AND WHY THE LOCKDOWN MEANS NOTHING

There’s absolutely no big deal about this lockdown and the coronavirus outbreak. Despite my tentative unemployment and fear of the unknown, the shutdown means nothing. It is like another sixty-day public holiday. The type you get for no reason – like the collision of a few work-free days and some weekends. So that instead of closing on a Friday and resuming work on Monday, you enjoy your bliss from Thursday till Wednesday. Then the churches are closed. All football matches are cancelled. And there is a compulsion to spend this normal public holiday at home with your family. Exactly this is what the lockdown is for me. And there are no lessons to learn anew. No "aha" moments of any kind. Life is the same and there is no newness under the sun. The only exceptions are the things I noticed. One of such is that Zainab (my immediately younger sister) and I do not see issues in the same light. She was a youth corper in Ibadan until the family convinced her to come home, just bef...
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TYPES OF CORONA VIRUS

Her voice jarred in my ears like an un-snooze-able alarm as she narrated to her colleagues how her sex partner could not satisfy her the previous night.  I stood at the bus stop that day for over an hour waiting to get a bus. It had not been easy for car-less residents of Lagos since the Okada and Keke ban. You either struggled or wobbled to get yourself home. I was usually part of the wobblers .  That day had a vibe on its own that could send the devil himself to hell unwillingly. The sun refused to set way after past 6, the air was at attention, and car owners were very unfriendly... would you blame them? When this bus rolled up in front of me, I felt like Angelina Jolie in the Tourist, all I did was stroll in effortlessly. Yes, there are still some of us who think life is that easy. A group of 3 ladies and 3 men followed suit and we all started with this journey that would lead to another, in that Korope (mini bus). There would be wild thoughts and great rea...
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THE ENGLISH MAN.

THE ENGLISH MAN At first, I perceived him as my enemy, as did my colleague. When you regarded him with a greeting he responded with silence or a frown, not once, not twice. He had these knocked knees that he threw around like his pride when he walked out or into the ENGLISH lab that accommodated unfriendly dust. I pictured his face one day as the image of the un-wiped whiteboard occupying space in the lab. The board had many inscriptions on it that were quite ugly; like drawings of an amateur. It just hung there, representing a deceitful notion of facility needed.  He would resume very early every weekday. His black shadow (computer bag) would sit on his desk signifying his presence when he left to teach a class. This black shadow suited a computer engineer or a lawyer, but certainly not an English teacher. I remember once picturing him in a suit and a tie, or a range rover sport. I had to perish the thought though because I wouldn’t know if he’d ever smile even in suc...
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MARIERE

MARIERE It was said that she had this ravishing beauty that made suitors hover around her father’s compound. They would come prepared with gifts and entourages only to be frequently turned down by her. Few gave up the trial while many continued, unsuccessfully. The villagers waited to see the day and the lad who would win their untitled princess at last.  This one, he came out of the blue. He came like a king who could not be refused. He came prepared from a faraway land that even you cannot guess. He came for the taking and nothing less. Many had lost but he was called to win. Voila! The unpleasable damsel eventually was defeated by the affluence, charisma, debonair and gaiety of this lad. They gracefully were married without further ado. It was a quick wedding as the groom could not wait to consummate the union. A bit uneasy, mother and brother to the bride decide to accompany the couple to their home in Lagos to be familiar with where their blood would be inhabiting h...
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IF HAIR COULD TALK

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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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