The Pretender

You say I’m the prettiest in the world
not like those who paint their faces all colors
I know I’m not the prettiest by any standards
But it feels good that you believe I am
So, I trash my makeup and pretend I don’t care for them.

You say I have sense
not like others wanting money and Benz
I know I want those things too
but I want your approval more
So, I pretend I care not for them.

You say I’m a treasure
toiling hard to bring home bread
not like them waiting to be fed
So, I ignore the fatigue and work even harder
pretending I care not for being pampered

You say I’m a decent woman
not like those showing thighs and bellies.
So I hide my crop top and minis.
Saving my goodies for your eyes only,
I pretend I care not for the world to see

You say I’m the perfect woman
So why do women with Birkins on private jets hold your fancy?
Why are their bellies and thighs out with a face full of makeup?
I thought you hated those things?
Now, I can’t pretend not to care.

You look me in the eye and say,
I let myself go and failed to move with the times.
For times have changed and so has your taste.
I am a good woman, you insist
But you can’t pretend not to care for bad girls.

The Girl Called Fortunate

I’ve been told the stars have names, every single one of them. That some people who did not have problems decided to pass their time by naming them. White people! How is that even possible? There are too many of them and they all look alike, how could the namers tell them apart?

I try to concentrate more as I look at them, to see if I will notice some differences that had earlier eluded me but I see none, the only difference is that some are bigger and brighter. I choose the brightest one I can find and focus all my attention on it. Soon, my world narrows down to just that star. A great pain in my mid-section soon shatters that focus. I stiffen. The star separates into multiple blurry stars as tears pool in my eyes and then converges when the tears snake down my temple. I do not bother to wipe them. Continue reading

My Humble Beginning (Video)

It took me time to discover what i really wanted to do. I always knew i wanted to be great. I feared being ordinary and whenever I prayed as a younger woman and even as a girl, I asked God to make me a household name. It was important to me that my name be heard. I knew that much, but I had no idea how to get there and for years I thought, worried, prayed and wondered at what it was I had to do to get there and what career path I had to pursue to get me there. Continue reading

One Sense Less Existence

The morning the news broke that a new mother gouged out her new-born’s eyes the country was agog with it. The story could not be missed; it was on TV, in the papers, radio, online, on lips… Everyone everywhere was talking about it, each reacting in his own way; women in the market lifted shoulders and snapped fingers in open condemnation of the act, men at their businesses folded their arms and shook their heads, you see women, they can be very dangerous! Continue reading

Change Begins With Not Just Me

Long before President Muhammadu Buhari started the ‘Change Begins With Me’ campaign Oluwadara was already living this mantra.

She saw her children as her responsibility to society; the people who through their actions will create a ripple effect that will transform the larger society into what she always hoped it would be.

She was not going to undermine the magnitude of this responsibility so she chose to start early, teaching her children lessons most people complained were too advanced for ones so tender.

When she noticed the first signs of sibling rivalry she used it to mold her son into what she wished every man in the world would be – a gentleman. Continue reading

Dead Men Who Make Demands

Hello Guys,

Here is a new story I wrote for The Musty Corner. It was edited and published by them first, but I decided to publish it here also because i do not want to deny you wonderful people the chance to read this story which i enjoyed writing so much.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much.

A few months ago Priye thought she was the luckiest woman alive. The state of utmost contentment she was in made her not to want anything else or aspire to a greater situation. She felt fulfilled, happy, satisfied – quite complacent if you like, but she was comfortable with that. Everything was good.

In the present moment only the presence of Santan gives her anything close to joy, one that is pathetic when compared to her previous state.

Clingy, selfish, demanding Santan. Priye was not unaware of the look of irritation bestowed on Santan when people thought she wasn’t looking. If she was another’s offspring, not hers, Priye would have felt and acted the same way, but there’s something about the love a mother has for her child. It does not diminish, not even if the child were born with horns and a tail. Only a mother will understand this feeling. Continue reading

The Smell of Fear

Fear has a smell. The realization that you’ve lived with it for the bulk of your existence dawns gradually. The familiarity of it. It’s like an old friend you do not like but have to stick with because no one else will be with you.

It was there, hovering just around your nostrils, one of those nights when you had been locked out of the house, again, and you witnessed a murder in your notorious neighborhood. You plastered your body against the wall of your fence, as if to merge with it and prayed not to be seen. Continue reading

Letter to my President

Dear President Buhari,
I do not know much about politics and though I enjoyed economics as a course in school and even excelled at it, it wasn’t enough to prepare me for real life economics.

On this note, I am hoping you will understand if my words seem ignorant or if I ask any question you consider dumb. I will simply speak from my heart  here.

I do not know how to run a country either, but i know i do not need that to notice what stares me in the face daily – the immense suffering your  people are experiencing. Continue reading

Becoming Narcissus

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Photo Credit: Google Image

There’s a new disease that has latched on to the minds of most and is taking large bites out of us, all the while blowing soothing air on the resultant sore,  like the rat does, causing us to feel good about it.

This disease began with the need to fight low self esteem and as the battle for our self worth took full swing with words like “Whoever cannot handle you at your worst does not deserve you at your best.” this disease spread faster than Ebola and HIV combined. Continue reading

When Hearts Melt

You seemed safe or maybe I needed to believe that. So I peeled back a little the beautiful dressing hiding many ugly foibles and telling scars.

You didn’t cringe like the rest. No. You just angled that pretty head and looked on like it was nothing; even perfectly normal. Hope spilled; soothing lotion on a burn, pouring over my wounds and making me believe they weren’t as ugly as they appeared. Emboldened, I revealed some more and even more until I was standing bare before you. Trusting.

I would have done anything; become anything; stripped the layers of pride I wore like a defence and lay it at your feet, gladly inviting you to stomp all over, your footprints on them a sign that everything that used to matter no longer does and only one thing does – you. Continue reading