It’s the one dress that most women have thought about since they were girls. At first, they don’t dwell too much on the details of their intended or even the marriage itself, just mostly on the feeling of euphoria dressed in white and being the centre of attention for a whole day.
My first experience of a wedding was at age 5. I was the (more…)
A friend and I were visiting Cape Town. By the end of a day spent doing touristy things, we were tired and quite desperate to hop into a taxi and get some rest.
We had a bit of difficulty finding a taxi stand, so we decided to ask a kind-faced South African lady.
The following conversation ensued:
Us: Hello, where can we find a Cab |KAB|, please?
Her: *puzzled look* Cab? |KAB|
Us: *big smile* Yes, a Cab |KAB| (more…)
A twitter thread about the not-so-easy side of pregnancy and childbirth swept the social media streets a few weeks ago. It caused quite the whirlwind.
Well, I found it to be refreshingly honest albeit brutally disillusioning, but in a very good way. It was necessary to hear the other side of the female experience, I felt “saved” from the danger of a single story.
Recently, I’ve begun to question that I even have sufficient maternal instinct. I mean, my own mother would (more…)
So, when I saw that Paper magazine cover of a stark full-frontal naked reality TV star, along with her well-oiled, beautiful posterior, my reaction was a peculiar blend of evenly-measured giggle and wince.
Then, I reflexively crossed my legs and clutched my own breasts protectively even though I was fully clothed at the time. I decided to think carefully about why my own legs came together of their own volition.
Did I cross them because I imagined that it was I splayed across that magazine cover and the thought of globally exposing the pencilled-in stretch marks on my modest bottom was a bit too much for my heart to bear? Yes. (more…)
When I see an interesting garment, I mentally take it apart and analyse the fabric and pattern pieces. I enjoy the thrill from challenging myself to replicate the style, if only in my head.
Likewise, I hope our Ogas-at-the-top squeal with glee (I recommend a high-pitched “weeeeeee”) and then proceed to challenge themselves to replicate when they see interesting countries where systems and processes work beautifully for the benefit of all.
Switzerland seems like a fine model, and there isn’t a patent or copyright law on countries as far as I know. Besides, imitation is supposedly the best form of flattery.
So, Dear Nigerian leaders, kindly flatter the Swiss, make them blush so hard from your flattery, that Mac Cosmetics would feel compelled to release a limited edition lip colour (preferably matte) aptly named “Swiss Red”, matching the distinct shade of a blushing, flattered Swiss.
Their response to my gleeful “Happy New Year!” was a just-as-gleeful, well-meaning and pulsatingly pregnant “This is the year that we’ll come to eat your rice!”
Totally unrelated but perhaps a co-traveller on the same locomotive train faithfully conveying my thoughts, I’ve often wondered about the enigma; Why do long-married couples start to look alike?
Well, after much pondering, I’m convinced that I just might have cracked the code to finding The One that one grows old and withered with. Alas, it’s hardly complicated:
Step 1. Spot a prospective “The One”.
Unwrinkle your nose, shit is perfectly edible and might be eaten at some point.
The choice of how to eat it is what’s more important you see, for though it is well known that shit can simply be eaten with one’s bare unwashed hands, shit can also be eaten properly with a fork and knife. Even with chopsticks, for the more adventurous.
Yes, some sit down to devour the pungent faecal mass with such polished table manners, one would imagine it were a three course meal at a cordon bleu restaurant, with the stinky shit artfully plated on fine china, silverware laid atop folded napkins, steamed hand towels and fine linen tablecloth.
The housemaid is pregnant. ‘But that’s how men are, they are all like that’. Resigned acceptance or perhaps aloof indifference.
So, with a knife she cuts into the sizzling shit and guides the fork into her mouth, then washes it down with diarrhoeic champagne bubbling with a most peculiar breed of shame; the sort that another’s embarrassment imposes on one.
‘What would people say?’ To the casual observer, she’s relishing her feast. To herself, with no small measure of compromise, she says Hmm this isn’t half as bad as it appears, in fact it leaves a sweet tangy after-taste if I push it to the back of my throat then swallow quickly without chewing. An acquired taste of sorts.
In defining shit, need anyone be reminded of the fact that it decomposes? When exposed in the open, it breaks down till all that remains is grains of dirt that eventually blend with the earth.
The Urban Dictionary definition of the above expression made me chuckle; A term used when a girl has a guy under her command, means the guy will pretty much follow his girl’s every wish and do whatever she wants.
Sprinkle some Andrews Liver Salt over this expression and voila! it bubbles into the plot of a Nollywood movie.
Scheming Lady puts a love potion in Mr. Man’s food. He becomes pretty much wrapped around her little finger. His Loving Mother becomes suspicious and accuses Scheming Lady, who weepingly confesses. The antidote is found and Mr. Man becomes free (“Remote Control” Parts 1, 2 and 3. Grab your copy now!).
I quite like the world of Nollywood, where evil is punished and good is rewarded. Where it is either black or white with no middle ground whatsoever, so save your political correctness for the movie about your own life. Don’t forget to tie your sanctimonious gèlè as movie plots are usually pregnant with moral undertones.
To me, black is the absence of colour rather than a colour, funny how when it is bound with other words the outcome is rather colourful.
Here are some symbolisms,
Black Widow: The air was thick with rumours, they whispered that she’d poisoned her five husbands and cut out their hearts to cook pepper-soup with. It didn’t help that the aromatic scent of spicy uziza seeds and utazi leaves always filled the air around her compound moments after they all died.
Happiness is rather relative, it really is a ‘one man’s meat is another man’s poison’ phenomenon.
I believe that the Serenity Prayer provides tips for true happiness- “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference“.
One who is unhappy about their “one-pack” could have the courage to change it into six-pack abs with a cleaner diet and exercise. One who is unhappy about their short stature could serenely accept that sometimes the best things do come in small packages.
About six years ago, I wasn’t too happy with my wonky smile, I knew that I could change it and decided to invest in dental braces. Mind you, I wore braces as an adult, not as a giggly teenager reminiscent of the clichéd DNF (Designated Nerdy Friend) in American high school movies, and mine were the very evident metal type.
Nedoux 