Welcome. Wander. Wonder.
It was my first year at Uni. My friend, Penelope (obviously not her real name because which Nigerian parents name their child Penelope? ‘Penelope’ is currently married with a kid so it felt right to change her name) and I had decided to go see a movie with our current beaus, Mohammed and Rotimi. They… Continue reading Locked Up
So now that you have chosen to have children. How do you want to have them? Yes, there is more than one way and this, in my opinion, should be a choice as well. I love Gabrielle Union-Wade, I really do, but I’ve been reading about what she went through trying to have children by her… Continue reading Children- The How (Part 2.)
I have been thinking for a while now that we need to open up the child rearing conversation. We need to take it as a thing and critically dissect all aspects of the ‘project’, as a friend of mine recently referred to it. First off, especially in these parts (I write from Lagos, Nigeria), we… Continue reading Children- The Why
“You are my life; my entire world. You came into my life and made every past disappointment make sense. I cannot imagine a forever without you. Marry me Uju. Please, marry me.” I stand there, stunned, like I did not know this was going to happen. But I did see it coming, I did- when… Continue reading Say Yes
(May 2016) My every encounter with you leaves me bruised Needing to heal all over again Sometimes it’s intended, sometimes it isn’t Perhaps it’s not multiple wounds, but just the one The one which has refused to heal But is constantly covered up by dead skin Every encounter with you, peeling off the dead skin… Continue reading Demon Angel
“I do not know that I want to have children.” I will always remember the look on his face when I said this to him, that first day we met- part awe, part...something. Something being a mix of crestfallen (because, otherwise, you’re perfect), and wary (because, what horror stories does this one have that she… Continue reading Why
“I didn’t believe you yesterday.” She handed him the glass – whisky, one ice cube away from being neat- and folded herself neatly beside him on the grey couch. The smoke from the cigar he cradled between his right index and middle fingers swirled up and away, as if running from the uncomfortableness of… Continue reading Truth
