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.
If I had on my posh ajebutter hat, I’d have titled this post “Bang-Bang” mimicking the sound of a gun expelling bullets.
The tragic news of senseless killings, regardless of where it happens, always touches me deeply. I empathise with those caught in the crossfire of thoughts within another person’s disturbed mind and sympathise with their loved ones. Everyone is entitled to the right to die a more dignified death.
Recently, I was surprised to learn that a man responsible for mass shootings in the US simply walked into a licensed store and purchased two guns with the casual ease of buying Bazooka bubble gum.
I wondered, what would be the motive for purchasing a gun? What else could guns possibly be used for? So, to give those who make lax regulations that piggyback on the second amendment the benefit of the doubt, I made a list of possible alternatives outside of firing and killing:
For four days every month since I “became a woman” at the age of eleven, my crampy discomfort coerces me into wishing I were male and afterwards I continue to take delight in the complexities that make me female. At least until the next time, next month.
I’ve regarded the many heated debates about female-male equality/equity with mixed feelings on the one hand and detachment on the other hand. Would it be considered utterly flippant if I was sincere enough to admit that sometimes I couldn’t care less about feminism? Quite simply, I am mostly concerned about being treated fairly compared to the next person, whether male or female, with or without a penis. Period. (this reminds me of crampy discomforts).
Recently, I read an article, and in it the Nigerian writer articulately expressed their displeasure at the use of an all-white cast in a particular Hollywood film. Their main grouse was that the black race was not represented, which to them ranked even lower on the Unfairness scale than being represented inaccurately. Their argument was that the whole thing reeked of lack of diversity.