Hello everyone, I am back with the next instalment in our ‘Virtuous Enterprise series’, if you missed the last one, you could read it here! So Chisom was nominated by someone who follows me on Instagram, and I did some investigating. Chisom is the ELOY Award nominated makeup artist behind ‘beautified’, her youthful exuberance is seen on her Instagram page, and her warmth is felt in her youtube videos. You would not believe the energy and warmth that flew off her email when she replied to my invitation to partake in our series. There was such a wide grin on my face as she wrote back saying she was happy to share her story because she knew Gods’ hand was in it right from the beginning. When we finally had the interview, I was just so amazed and in awe of the things she said and the way she spoke. She spoke with such confidence as a child of God, humbled by His grace in her life and hopeful for the things He was yet to do. Speaking to Chisom encouraged me to obey God with immediate alacrity, to envision myself living my dreams before they are a reality, and to become the wife I want to be today. I know you did not come to read me keep speaking, so I’ll let you read the interview now. Be blessed and encouraged by what you read, share, subscribe and leave a comment. xx
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I recently heard a well educated Nigerian woman discuss her circumcision on TV. She explained that she was circumcised on the seventh day of her birth the same way the male children were. Upon further enquiry, she explained that circumcision was emphatically not the same thing as female genital mutilation. I was not sure about her explanations, and decided to do some research on the subject, here is what I found. (more…)

I recently heard the heartbreaking story of a 7-year-old boy who was killed in Badagry, Nigeria a few days ago. This boy was reportedly caught stealing garri (milled cassava) or a phone and was placed in a car tyre, beat and set on fire. Passersby took photos and videos which went viral on the internet. There has been an outcry by many Nigerians that this was an unacceptable action by older people who should have known better. (more…)

President Buhari, of Nigeria, recently said his wife belonged to the kitchen, the living room and the ‘other room’ after she criticised his political decisions openly. When this occured, some women were livid, while others supported his claims. Several men came out to say he was correct, while others claimed he was wrong. I was tempted to ask the men in my life, where they felt their wives belonged; the other room, the kitchen, or the boardroom. Apparently, most people have accepted that the ‘other room‘ was a reference to the bedroom stating wise women have mastered the skills of manipulation in there. (more…)

I recently found myself having to defend women to a group of men who thought feminism was women whining unnecessarily. I attempted to bring the cause of feminism to the grassroots. I attempted to make them consider the case of the girl child in the developing world. I tried to help them understand that when young girls are uneducated, forced into child marriage and oppressed; feminism was the voice they needed. I was ridiculed as another feminist, ‘anti-men’, ‘a wannabe man’, ‘having penis envy’; and it hit me, I did not care. (more…)

If you have not watched the video below of the Ooni of Ife’s current wife chastising feminism and the female desire for equality, where have you been? The Olori spoke meagrely on the subject of equality and why it is an achievement that no woman could attain. Anti-feminists began wig snatching on the Internet, and Nigerian women worldwide began to argue.
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When I heard about a Channel Four documentary detailing the lives of the Nigerian rich and famous my heart sunk. Again we (Nigerians) were being recognised for nothing of value. I suppose it was better than being known for evil deeds. However, when millions are dying, and poverty is catching up with so many, is licentiousness not considered wicked? The show merely served as a catalyst for me to voice my opinions on the current state of affairs, in the hopes that you will share your ideas too. (more…)

Do not forget that your mother was a tomato seller at Alade market
When your father was wasting his seed on Allen Avenue
She was investing in your future
She saw your future as her hope
It was the essence of her life’s work
When you reach your destination and you have arrived
Do not forget that you were built by hands that were burnt selling tomatoes in the sun (more…)

Igbokwenu!! Hello Friends, hope you’re enjoying this beautiful month of May, the weather is nice, the people are nice and it appears wedding season is around the corner. I have made a visit to the Eastern Part of Nigeria for this instalment of #cooknigeriachallenge. Nkwobi is spicy crowfoot. Yes you read that right, Potash is used to curdle palmoil creating a delectable Igbo delicacy.  (more…)

I’m an unapologetic church whore. I move from place to place like a merchant trading her goods. It’s the place to find good husbands, good friends, new clients. I seem to focus so much on the search for the good that I never become good myself. I was never supposed to wander into my current church, but I did so by accident, and I stayed out of curiosity. It was a family church. They had a vibrant youth ministry for teenagers, but beyond that there was nothing more. There was no singles fellowship, all the people in their twenties were newlyweds. As a 26-year-old unmarried female, I stood out like a sore thumb. They say curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, it wasted my time.

He was the first person to shake my hand upon arriving in church on my first day, sweet smile, strong hands, muscles visibly ripping out of his polo shirt and a tiny tattoo of the cross on the underside of his right wrist. He was, at least, six feet tall, dark skin, 75% cocoa solids and a teeny weeny Afro. Brown eyes, standard, a nicely trimmed beard, and a chiseled jaw that would make any girl swoon. I soon noticed that he was an usher, a minister, a youth leader and a drummer, he knew everything about the church and everyone in the church knew him.

I never wanted to be married to a minister; pastors always seem to have a secretive life behind the pulpit, and I was not ready for that. I’d only recently broken up with a prayer pastor, and let me tell you that his Holiness did not extend to the bedroom. But this guy knew a different kind of Jesus, and every time I saw him smile in my direction I knew I had to stay. So I kept going back to his church, and then I volunteered in the youth ministry, I needed to get noticed fast. I began to learn things about him as I hung around, none of these things attracted me, but I stayed regardless. His name was Damilola, strike one; I hate unisex names on men. He was planning to go into full-time ministry, strike two, I already said I’m no Pastor’s wife, I’ve been around a bit too much for that. He was saving his first kiss for marriage and wanted a girl who had done the same. Strike three, curiosity had prevented me from waiting for anything worthwhile in life. (more…)

Banga soup, DeltaHello Friends,

February is almost over and as a result, I am bringing you my most recent attempt in the #cookNigeriachallenge

Okay ‘na wa’ for Banga soup the extensive research that went into the creation of one pot of soup had no rivals. Friends have suggested that I reduce the intense fervour with which I am attempting to complete the #cooknigeriachallenge. While searching for a recipe, I accidentally walked into the comment section of a cooking blog where readers almost crucified the chef for cooking it the ‘Yoruba’ way. Then I had a little accident while attempting to buy Ogiri! And finally, I had to change my recipe of choice when I was expressly informed that using beef to cook Banga soup was unacceptable! (more…)

image credit: thisisafrica.me

image credit: thisisafrica.me

Chigozie Obioma’s book  ’The Fishermen’, is one I will never forget. His, his ability to imprint an image in the mind of the reader is not matched. He has been called the ‘son of Achebe’, I have to agree. Obioma had imprinted the image of mad-man Abulu, and I think I will need a purgative to get him out.

Obioma tells the tale of a young family. Four brothers left to themselves after their father’s work transfer began to entertain themselves. They became fishermen against all sound warnings. Ater one encounter with the town’s mad man, havoc ensues in their family. One statement from a man declared insane turned brothers into enemies and children became strangers to their parents.

Abulu, the madman, told Ikenna the first son that one of his brothers will kill him. This became a self-fulfilling prophecy, as he became obstructive at home and antagonistic to his brother. Boja his younger brother took this behaviour personally, and the conflict reached a boiling point. The death of both boys was an inevitable occurrence as a result of Ikenna’s desire to accept the ramblings of a mad man.

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I saw the video below, and I realised how deeply ingrained in us the idea of witchcraft is. I have often been fascinated by the African focus on the spiritual; we seem to blame everything on ‘witches and wizards’. I have more often than not wandered what may happen if we (Africans) took responsibility for our actions as opposed to blaming the world of darkness for our suffering and struggles. Let us face it, many times we blame ‘witches and wizards’ for the things we cannot explain. Someone once said that ‘in the west, technology is witchcraft, in Africa, it is ‘your mother-in-law’, I beg to differ. I remember when I was younger, a woman at the hairdressers accused another of being a witch simply because of the length of her hair. There are children in many African villages that have been accused of being evil and, as a result, have been tormented bitterly, I weep for these innocent ones. My definition of witchcraft these days is what I see in a lot of African politics.

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image credit-TY Bello

image credit-TY Bello

One week ago, celebrated Nigerian photographer TY Bello posted photos on Instagram account from her photoshoot with rapper Tinie Tempah. There was a woman who was hawking her wares, she was selling ‘Agege bread’ on the streets of Lagos, and her image was coincidentally captured alongside Tinie Tempah. TY Bello coined her ‘beautiful miss x’, and begun her search for the mystery model. Yesterday, TY Bello unveiled the face of this woman on the cover of ‘Thisday Style Magazine’; her name is Olajumoke Orisaguna. A simple, hardworking woman whose future changed while she was busy attending to her life, working at what her hands found to do. TY Bello was her destiny helper, but Olajumoke was not idle waiting for life to happen to her.

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Agbalumo ice cream

This post is ice cream related! As I’m sure, you know that ice-cream drama is my go-t0 bad-day food. Calories have never tasted better than in ice cream and cake is too heavy to eat when you’re crying. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
However, I found ice-cream that I ran to over and over again, and tears were not the reason to indulge. Zobo and Agbalumo ice-cream! (more…)

Where are you really from; my answer, Nigeria.
His response, “you are better off here”, my retort, nothing.
Nothing because I cannot yell, I cannot scream.
I cannot at the top of my lungs speak about the sickness that ails me and my inability to speak my words.
Better off here? Better off where? Better off anywhere but Borno?
Better off here where my hair is not flat, and my skin is not soft.
Better off where? Here where my soul cannot dance to the rhythm of the rainstorms.

Where are you really from? Oke Ado! A place I have never known, where my blood is from, and my palate was born, yet it is a place I have never seen.
Better off where, here? Where my name is absurd and shortened for fun. Better off where? Here? Where my empty bed is deemed a curse, and my flattened nose is called a snout.
Better off here? Where the impression of lies is better swallowed than the truth, and I cannot behold my love in the eyes.

Here? Where nowhere? You are right. I’m better of here though the stares freeze my bones yet it’s not the harmattan that chaps my lips. Though my love is rejected, I don’t have to claim the one that doesn’t exist.
Though my intelligence is questioned, I don’t have to bend my knees before I speak.
Though my solitude is exaggerated, it is better that the noise that muffles my voice. He asked me where are you from? I said Nigeria. He said to me you’re better off here. I said nothing. He assumed I agreed.

credit: http://fidesnigeria.org

credit: http://fidesnigeria.org

I have often joked to my family and friends that if I were to marry a Nigerian man he may likely be from the South/South Eastern parts of Nigeria. Why? I haven’t the faintest idea. However, I recently came across an article by Vera Ezimora where she satirically discussed the issues that may arise when Yoruba’s and Igbo’s become one in marriage. In Vera’s case, she is an Igbo woman married to a Yoruba man, I nodded and laughed at some of the items on her list, you can read the article here. Lo and behold, after watching the video below, I realised that there are subtle cultural differences which are able to wreck unnecessary havoc in homes, satire aside.
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she called me beautiful,
it sounded like a question;
how dare I be mistaken as a beauty?
it was an accusation,
I had no right to be so audacious.

she called me beautiful
my origin was in question,
my skin had not been scorched
perhaps my blood was diluted?
Africa must not have birthed me.

this beauty she praises, were does it belong
this beauty she sees, I fear it’s painted on
this beauty she laments it’s never been glorified
this beauty she admires, admirer’s never sought to buy

she called me beautiful
I called her a liar
how dare she see things that weren’t there?
she called me beautiful, I don’t know why,
I said to her, beauty was never here.

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Credit: Henry lee battle- this too shall pass

Credit: Henry lee battle- this too shall pass

Sefi Atta! What can I say? A beautifully written and absolutely engaging novel that captivates the mind of the reader. Everything good will come is packed with so much action that the rapid reader may easily omit a few pivotal moments. These moments reveal Mike and his philandering ways, Enitan’s stint in prison, and the beauty that is conveyed in the restoration of a mother-daughter relationship.

Rape, I hate that word. Enitan was exposed to the violence and pain that results when men take what they want without hesitation. Enitan witnessed the rape of her childhood friend Sheri. Like many girls her age Sheri wanted to feel older than she was, but like many girls before her, when pain came, she cowered her head in shame. Nigerian society is not routinely designed to favour and defend the woman, and when it does, pity is all it offers. Sheri as a Nigerian girl knew this, she did what many girls had done before her, she inserted a clothing hanger into her womb. She wanted to expel an unwanted child. I grew up hearing tales of clothes hangers that found their way into the wombs of girls, yet reading Sheri’s story was fresh and palpable in some way. She became barren as a result, a barren woman is not a woman by Nigerian standards. (more…)

imagecredit; memegenerator.net

imagecredit; memegenerator.net

Not all akara’s are made equal. The cook differs. The oil differs. The beans differs. The method differs. The taste differs. Since the purchase of my new food processor, I have been privileged to blend, grind, chop and puree all sorts of ingredients. I am convinced that any modern day Nigerian homemaker must own a food processor to complete her kitchen. Today, I would like to discuss Akara, the ultimate fried bean cake. (more…)

Credit: kentaro-art.com

Credit: kentaro-art.com

I remember the first time I heard the title of this book. I had initially giggled to myself as I considered the use of that phrase as the title of a novel. It is a catchy phrase. It is a well known phrase. It’s also a phrase that may cause some pain. History tells that when Nigerian’s had demanded the removal of Ghanian immigrants in the 80s, the Ghanians were forced to use the red, blue and white plastic bags to gather their belongings. Hence the term for the bags, ‘Ghana must go’. I had assumed that the book would relate to Ghana in some way. I assumed that it would tell the tale of the suffering of the displaced Ghanians. Instead, it told a different tale. A tale of suffering and displacement nonetheless. (more…)

Credit: tourism.gov.ng

Credit: tourism.gov.ng

‘Nigeria we hail thee.’ That is how the original Nigerian anthem began; my mum always preferred that version; probably because she grew up singing it and could identify with it. I recently looked up this version, the one she would sing from memory with a smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes. It often seemed to me that when the subject of the national anthem would come up, she reflected on a Nigeria when times were better and when the future could only be brighter. I read the old version I began to feel something I had never felt with the ‘arise’ version! I felt a pride and a hope, it seemed foreign to me. I was proud to be a Nigerian, I smiled and I easily began to recognise why my mother prefers that version. Let me tell you why. (more…)

The first time I saw an image of Peter Bello on Instagram, I thought to myself;’fine boy’. Last night when his picture was on several timelines on various social media platforms and #peterbello became synonymous with #RIP, my thoughts were of a different nature entirely. In an attempt to understand how he died, I followed the hashtag, this led me to eulogies and stories from friends and strangers alike. I found myself crying over the loss of someone I did not know, a person I never met.

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Image Credit; pulse.ng

Image Credit; pulse.ng


Dear Mr President,

I like how our people have coined you PMB, there is joy and laughter on the faces of many. People say that your posture brings hope and that you are a messenger from God. To be honest with you, prior to your inauguration, I was indifferent to you. I felt that although you had been successful in being president in the past, you seemed a bit too strict. Yet I know that the ‘War Against Indiscipline’ you initiated is needed even more ardently in todays Nigeria. (more…)