Feigning Innocence
Lost Innocence.Image: Monster’s Closet Adakole looked at that body and he felt she was begging him to come to bed. He had always considered her a tease; especially because she was constantly hugging him, sitting on his thighs, or on the floor with her legs wide open and feigning innocence like she wasn’t deliberately arousing him. Well, it ends here. He is going to have her today! He began to take off her clothes. Where she should have been afraid, she laughed! He felt a twinge of anger. Was she laughing at him? He got angrier and slapped her. Today, he was going to show her who the boss was. He began to touch her and she didn’t respond. If anything, she stiffened. That got him worked up and he used his knee to forcefully spread her legs apart. She started to whimper and soon enough, she was crying; loudly. Adakole took a pillow and pressed down on her face as he continued touching her. ‘Now you want to act like this isn’t what you always wanted?’ he kept thinking to himself. Well, she shouldn’t have thought she could tease him and go scot free. He felt searing anger pass through him, doing the only thing he could to break her spirit. He whipped out his penis and forced himself into her. He kept ramming until she stopped moving; she stopped resisting. When he was done, he asked her to get up. No response. He shook her. No response. He shook her harder. She didn’t move. She was dead. Adakole panicked. He knew what would happen to him when her parents found out about what he had done. He also knew he had no other option but to run for his life. *** Senator Ibikunle held his crying wife as they addressed the press. ‘Our driver went to pick our daughter from school yesterday and has since not returned. We urge you to please help us with whatever information you have. Her name is Bolanle and our driver is Adakole Emmanuel. Please help us find our little girl. She is just three years old.’
Changing Stereotypes: Meet the Girl Behind Larney’s Make-Overs
Rachel Eugene Michael.CEO, Larney’s Make-Overs.Image: ProShot. When I posted my vlog – There Are Many Hardworking Black Women….And They Are Not Runs Girls – I knew I touched some nerves. It was my first vlog to get hit with the ‘unlike’ button and trust me, it stung a little more than I would admit. I knew the blog, podcast and vlog would strike major nerves because it is about changing stereotypes that currently define women. I was still brooding about the poor feedback when I got a message from @dat_bajju_bae on Instagram. We got talking and she shared her story, challenges, hopes and aspirations with me and I was glad that she connected. This is what I learned about her. Her name is Rachael Eugene Michael and she is a student of Ahmadu Bello University. Like most of us, Rachael made some mistakes trying to find her foot in this world. Unlike most people though, Rachael realized she was wrong and needed to change her path and rewrite her story going forward. As a result, Rachael started her own beauty business specializing in make-up artistry, and it is called LARNEY’S MAKE-OVERS. I must say I believe Rachael is good at what she does! Her make-up for dark-skinned beauties is lit! Below are examples of what she has done. I would be grateful if we all support this young woman who has decided to work hard at being independent and professional. Contact her for your beauty makeover via the following platforms: FACEBOOK: RACHAEL ELSIE MICHAELS; INSTAGRAM: @dat_bajju_bae ADDRESS: AHMADU BELLO UNIVERSITY, KONGO, ZARIA. PHONE NUMBER: 08094757586 She is also available to travel if and when contacted. She told me that my vlog had inspired her to be more hard working and to strive for better. I was more than elated that she contacted me. It is for this reason that I do what I do. This here is another hardworking woman! It si about time we realize that the stereotypes about women are played out! So Whatchu waiting fo? Girl is waiting fo yo call y’all! Check out more photos after the cut. PHOTOCREDIT: PROSHOT
Living in Lagos Is Toxic!
Busy Lagos Market.Image: Financial Times I moved to Lagos in January, 2016, to take a certificate course in Film Directing at Royal Arts Academy. This was a big move for me because I had never lived anywhere but the Northern part of the country and I didn’t know if I was going to be able to acclimatize to the culture shock of the new town. Plus, I had heard so many things about Lagos that convinced me that Éko is not for me. Long story short, the stories are true! My first two weeks in Lagos were uneventful as I spent most of my time at my friend’s house. I would go days without seeing the sun and I was quite content with that life. When it was time to finally start school, I knew that my life was about to change. I was tossed into the typical Lagos drama and four months down the road, I think that living in Lagos is toxic! Here is why I have come to this conclusion; 1. LAGOS IS OVER POPULATED! I cannot count how many times I had panic attacks being surrounded by so many people! Like, where the hell were these people coming from?! The worse experience for me was when I went to Balogun Market and was almost swamped! While my chest was heaving in pains, my darling friend – Shade Opeyemi – told me that the market was basically empty at that time and that if I had gone there a little earlier, I wouldn’t have been able to move. Well, thank God yeah? Ain’t nobody got time for that! 2. TRAFFIC IS HELL! As a result of the overpopulation mentioned above, you can imagine the number of vehicles on the road at any given time. School was at Surulere and I lived at Mangoro. I had to go to Ikeja every morning to catch a bus to Ojuelegba. The traffic from Mangoro Junction to Ikeja can get pretty crazy; depending on when you leave the house. The traffic from Palm Groove to Ojuelegba was also another issue! On a good day, it would take me about an hour to get to school. On a bad day, which was about half the time, I would be on the road for 3 hours! The return home was not much different. Bus drivers would pass through Mushin and then Ikeja Along towards Iyana Ipaja. The traffic around Mushin can be hell and worse around Ikeja Along. As a result, I usually leave the house around 7am for my 9am class and would usually get home around 8pm if I leave school at exactly closing time; 4pm. This made me so tired when I finally got home that I was too tired to be productive! 3. TRANSPORT FARE IS JUST WICKED! Until I came to Lagos, I had never paid more than ₦100 bus fare for one trip within the town. Here, I pay ₦200 bus fare from Ikeja to Ojuelegba and ₦150 okada fare from Ojuelegba to Ajao road, Surulere. I pay ₦250 from Ojuelegba to Mangoro when returning home. When there is fuel, that is the standard price. Since the fuel crisis began, I have been paying ₦300 from Ikeja to Ojuelegba and trust me, it burns! The cheapest fare is ₦50 and it is for shortest distance possible. Before coming to Lagos, the highest I had paid for bus transport was ₦300 for a Kaduna to Samaru, Zaria trip and anybody who knows that trip knows that Samaru is quite some distance away. So imagine what it means to pay similar fees for a much shorter distance! 4. EVERYONE IS ONE WORD AWAY FROM A BLOWOUT! Bus drivers or conductors are always ready to fight. Agberos too! Passengers would fight each other or fight conductors at the slightest provocation. Conductors will fight agberos over how much money they should pay to the local government. The conductors will even fight passengers who don’t hop off the bus quickly. One night, I got to a bus and sat sideways. The driver started shouting, ‘If you know say you no wan go, drop for my bus.’ I tried to explain to him that I was not going all the way to Iyana Ipaja so I needed to sit closer to him to let him know where I would alight. He continued shouting until I came down from the bus. I stood by the door so it would fill up and I could take the last seat. Next thing I know, I was surrounded by agberos telling me to either move away or enter the bus. I was scared for my life so I just entered the bus to avoid stories that touch. I kept asking what it was I did wrong until someone in the bus told me not to take it to heart; that they were high. I will tell you more about this experience a little later in the post. 5. THE STREETS STINK! Now Lagosians, this is not an insult. Every town has its smell depending on how open it is, the number of people in it, the activities of its inhabitants and how many vehicles are there. Lagos is a variation of smells! And most times, not so pleasant. This could be a result of the class of each area, the open gutters or moving LAWMA trucks. Ajegunle had a smell that gagged me when I crossed the pond leading to Apapa. When I visited Snake Island (Itu-Agan), the entire water way stank! It didn’t come as a surprise to perceive the smell because I could see waste been flushed into the water and at the Apapa port where we took boats, people could be seen peeing and pooing in the water. Yeah….ewwww! The only places that didn’t have that sharp, nauseating smell were mostly on the Island, parts of Ikeja and Surulere.
I Have a Problem With ‘Church Folks’
Black American Pastors at a Conference.Image: Jason Barnes. First off, let me state that I believe in the story of Jesus Christ, and that his existence, birth, life, death, resurrection and reign is the model of faith that I subscribe to. That been said, I must also clarify that I abhor religion. In essence, while I believe in faith (and the need for it), I am not a fan of the structures that define religion. Hence, I am not a follower of any religion in the world. I believe GOD has called us to have a relationship with Him that surpasses the trappings of religion. As par this mindset, I have a problem with ‘church folks’. But since I am only concerned about Africans, it is better to say ‘I have a problem with African church folks’. To set a premise, let me define what a ‘church folk’ is. “A church folk is a person who is only outwardly devoted to the teachings of the church but who is the direct opposite of the Christ he/she claims to follow.” Now that we have the definition out of the way, let me explain my reason(s). The hardest thing here is to get broad categories but I will try. Here are some examples of African church folks. 1. THE NARCISSISTIC CHURCH LEADER: I will start with the pastor/prophet/minister/priest who have god-complexes. Their word is law! They may not feel they are equal to GOD but they sure act like it. They have no nuances of humility or pretenses of obeisance. They ‘demand’ of GOD and ‘command’ GOD to do their bidding. They shout at GOD as they would their servants. In similar fashion, they demand that their followers obey them to infinity. These church folk literally determine how their followers live their lives; whom they marry, what sort of jobs they do, and how often they must attend church meetings. These church folk are so narcissistic that they cannot stand their followers listening to other pastors/prophets/ministers/priests. I have heard of such church folks who tell their congregation that ‘you cannot serve two masters. You cannot drink the spirit of other people and expect to be effectively functional here.’ This is where we hear of church leaders who beat up, abuse or put down church members who do not kowtow to their every direction and command. It is also where you hear of a church leader who says things like, ‘As I got to that house, the devil couldn’t stand me. He had to flee. He knew that pastor/prophet/minister/father (insert name) had arrived. Somebody shout hallelujah.’ We have many of these church folk in many African churches but they are not the worst of the pack. Let us look at another type. 2. THE ‘WE MUST BUILD/EXPAND OUR CHURCH’ LEADER: Many church leaders care more about their precious buildings and expansion than they do about the lives of their church members. It is always contribution for this building project or that expansion vision. Some go as far as telling their congregation that God ordered them to build beautiful edifices for HIM. They blackmail their church members into making huge donations because whatever you sow, ‘you will reap bountifully’. Money that could be used to feed the poor amongst the congregation, clothe people, send members to school or cover the costs of rent is spent building ‘houses of God’. Since when does God live in a house? Since when does Heneed one? As a result, we have beautiful churches with empty people. I know of a man who gives thousands of naira weekly to his church for the building expansion but who wouldn’t give N1000 to a poor person. If there is any donation for the church building, he is usually the first to give but if a donation comes for say, widows’ welfare, orphanages, school sponsorship and what not, he wouldn’t even bat an eyelid. 3. THE MONEY HUNGRY CHURCH LEADER: Everyone loves money; that is a fact. Everyone wants to be rich. So I am not bashing this group for wanting money. I am pissed at the way they go at it. My bestie told me of a pastor in Lagos who had a really large congregation and no, it is not any of the big churches. She said she was invited for service there and when she arrived, she saw that the pastor was dancing. Dancing is not the issue here. The pastor would dance to a group of people and would say, ‘Spray me! Spray me! Spray me and get your blessings!’. And people would take out wads of cash and begin to spray. Yes, I was as shocked as you probably are now. What was more shocking however was the number of ‘big men’ my friend said she saw at the church. She mentioned how Range Rovers, G-Wagons and other such luxury cars lined the street of his church. The statement ‘Money doesn’t buy you wisdom’ became sensible to me. I was at a church program sometime last year. The guest speaker was a charlatan like many I had seen before. He brought some handkerchiefs with him, wiped his sweaty face and saliva spewing mouth and asked the church members to each take one. The price range started at ₦10,000. I do not exaggerate when I say that people ran to the altar to get one! When close to 50 people had done that, he went to ₦5000 and like that until it was ₦500. When it seemed like people were only trickling in, he screamed that he saw a vision of 20 unmarried women getting their husbands and 20 young people getting their admission letters into the university. The words weren’t fully out of his mouth when many people ran out. I am sure that more than 50 girls ran out for the chance to get their own husband. I was miffed at the level of ignorance that was put on
The Drama Around the Female Sex Organs
Woman covering her pubic region.Image: Allure. I went to a Christian secondary school and we had ‘born-again’ teachers who couldn’t talk about sex because they felt it was sin. It was hard for them to even teach reproduction without blushing to an unhealthy hue of red. When I was in JSS 3, I was selected for a seminar on sex education because I could talk about almost anything; even things people shied away from. The seminar was supposed to help our teachers combat their awkwardness by using the peer-education system. After the seminar, I became a peer educator and the girl to talk to about sex! Trust me, I had classmates coming to me ask all kinds of questions about sex that I was more than willing to answer. Truth is, I am comfortable talking about sex…well, except with my parents because: 1. They are my parents and that is absolutely awkward and; 2. I am happy leaving them with the assumption that I know NOTHING about sex. Anyway, today, I want to look at the drama around the female sex organ or better put, what we call, in broad terms, the vagina. Now, if you are not comfortable talking about sex, this is the time to log off because it is going to get progressively less comfortable. If you are okay, welcome to this gist. I think many people feel I am a conspiracy theorist. I can see gender discrimination in almost any issue and knowing that I am almost always right, I am glad to be a conspiracy theorist. This might just be the proof you are looking for. A while back, I saw a Vlog by Toke Makinwa where she talked about the ‘smell’ of the vagina. She urged her followers to use feminine hygiene products to get a good smell. She seemed to like the smell of cranberry juice because she kept saying women should smell like that. She even went as far as sniffing her friend, Osas Ighodaro, for what her ‘smell’ smelled like. I was embarrassed for Osas who looked equally embarrassed. Turns out Toke was just voicing what many people already thought. Many people believe that a woman’s natural vaginal ‘smell’ is horrible. By many people, I mean many men and a few women. Some people even think that ‘smell’ is so bad that men shouldn’t go down on women; or better put, shouldn’t perform cunnilingus on women. Now, I am not saying that some women don’t get vaginal odor but in most cases, the natural ‘smell’ is not bad or horrible as many people think. When a woman has an odor down there, it usually is a product of poor hygiene, normal sweating, tight panties or an infection in and around the vagina. Sometimes also, during a woman’s menstrual cycle, her sense of smell is heightened, making her more able to perceive her vaginal ‘smell’. This perception has led to many companies producing feminine hygiene products and deodorants for women. And advert companies have made it their goal to tell women that if they don’t smell like cranberry juice, men would be repulsed by them. Again, as it is with most advertisements, the aim is for a woman to catch her man and never about the woman herself. So the woman is expected to use these products to make the man happy and not to please herself. And because many women are all about getting (and keeping) their men, they have bought into the vaginal deodorant products and lie. My friend was among the women who bought a product. She used it and smelled like lemons (or something like that). Next thing I know, she was walking funny. I asked her what was up. She said her vagina was on fire, having exploded in sores. She stopped using the product and took some antibiotics. The swelling went down, the sores disappeared and she was back to normal. She decided to try the product again. Girl called me and told me to never use any vaginal cleanser/deodorant in my life. She experienced fresh sores, pains and swelling. After that, she totally blackballed any of those products. Trust me to laugh at her a bit. I know that many people will chuck it up to allergies or irritation but it wasn’t. She did all the pretests before she used it on her vagina. Thing is, the vagina isn’t built for all that chemical influx. The vagina/vulva is self-cleaning and has just the right amount of bacteria to ensure that everything works well down there. A simple cleaning with warm water is enough because the pH of water is neutral and as such, will not cause problems to the normal fauna of the vagina/vulva. So the issue of ‘smelling like cranberry juice’ should not come up at all. Men also have their unique ‘natural smell’ around their penises and I don’t see them scrambling to use these products to ensure that women are happy with the way they smell. There are many men who would shame a woman for her natural ‘smell’ when they themselves have an odor down there. I still can’t understand why they feel this is okay. Still on the fellatio/cunnilingus drama, I also remember a guy I was discussing with. He swore to never go down on a woman. I asked why. He blurted that it is disgusting. Yes, he used that word! He said women peed from their vagina and the proximity of the anus was a turn off. He said he tried to go down on a woman but kept imagining her pooping. I asked if he liked a woman to go down on him. He said it was a REQUIREMENT! Again, he used that word! He said he never fully enjoyed sex if a woman didn’t go down on him. I smiled and I asked him one question. Where do men pee from? That ended the argument. Recently, he
Solitude
Solitude Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air. The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go. They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all. There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a long and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain. – Kenneth Jaro
There Are Many Hardworking Women…and They Are Not Runs Girls
Culled from Black Women Leaders I relate with many women from all walks of life. This is because I believe the humanity of each person is their most defining factor. As a result, I have acquaintances who are business women, stay-at-home-mums, independent single ladies, cheating wives and/or girlfriends, nymphomaniacs, frigid lovers, women activists, submissive women, educated women, uneducated women, women who support their families, women who are supported by their men, women who have drive, women who are just coasting through life, corporate workers, ‘runs girls’ etc. Knowing these women gives me fodder for most of my work, so in most cases (and I say most cases because sometimes I get really crazy), I don’t judge them based on their life choices. I won’t lie by saying I don’t wish they could be more like me but I have come to the realization that everyone has a path to follow; and that feminism is accepting the conscious choices that women (and men) make about the direction of their lives. Having said that, here is why I have to share this story with you. A while back, I was chatting with a ‘friend’ whom I know is, for lack of a better word, a ‘runs girl’. She is beautiful for days and would be the first to tell you that she likes being taken care of by men. She is open about loving sex and profiting from it, as is evidenced from her lavish lifestyle, state-of-the-art car and latest iPhones; among others. I have been asked many times why we are friends since we are so vastly different and my response has always been the same; I will not be discriminating on anybody who has made a choice to live their lives the way they are living it. And as long as their lifestyle doesn’t affect another person’s basic human rights, all is fair in love and life. Anyway, back to my story. We were talking about business women and one name came up clearly in the conversation; Linda Ikeji, the millionaire blogger. My ‘friend’ switched from the business stuff to seriously shading Linda for (allegedly) buying a set of fake Hermés Bags. She noticed I didn’t get into the conversation and after a while, asked why I was quiet. I told her I couldn’t waste my time talking about a woman who has made so much money when I have none. I mentioned the fact that Linda works hard to earn the life she lives and if she could buy a house in one of the choicest neighborhoods in the country, why were we talking about fake bags? That was where the gist got interesting. My ‘friend’ said and I quote. ‘She did not buy that house herself. Money launderers funneled the money for that house or she has some mega rich sugar daddy.’ Now, I don’t know Linda anywhere nor have I a relationship with her but I got absolutely mad! Why?! Why would you put down a hard working woman like that?! I told her off, telling her that there are very few people/corporations who wouldn’t want to make just half the revenue she is making from ads on her blog. I asked her how much she thought Linda’s whole page cost to host an ad, how much even the small box ad cost and how many she had on her blog per day. She had no answer when I explained how advertisement was the backbone of many media companies’ survival. I kept going at it so much that my ‘friend’ asked if Linda was paying me. That was when I piped down. Here is the issue. My ire was not about Linda or directed at my ‘friend’. It was directed more at society than it was at this lady. This was not the first time I had seen a hardworking woman being put down by a society that keeps refusing to accept that a woman can be successful on her own. This is especially so when that woman is unmarried. It seems society cannot wrap its head around an independent single woman. Society seems more willing to accept a woman who is dependent on one man or the other; her father, her brother, and her husband (ultimately). When she gets old, she is supposed to depend on her son(s). In some ways, society also seems to be more accepting when a woman makes her money by being a prostitute. With this, a woman is still dependent on a man; or in 50 Cent’s voice, many men. With this equation, society is content, society is happy. When there is that small change where a woman proves she can be successful without depending on any of these men, people get mad; stark raving mad. This is the question that bugs me to eternity: what is so wrong with having a single, hardworking woman who isn’t dependent on any man for her success? Could it be that the thought of a woman making it on her own threatens the very fabric of power that society has woven? Or, being that it is a man’s world, does the presence of a hardworking woman emasculate the man? I really want answers to these questions. I grew up knowing that women should work. My mum is a single, hardworking and independent woman. She brought me up to be dependent on me. She started working when she was 16 and except when she is sick, she rarely takes a day off to just relax. She started off a kitchen cleaner in a hotel, and then rose to waiter, then room cleaner, then house keeper, then floor manager, then food and beverage manager; a position she held for many years. Now she runs her own guest house and she is still working! Every day, she leaves her house at 5:30am and starts work at 6:30am. She never leaves the office before 9:30pm. She takes care of us her children, is her family’s bread winner and she still takes
Dear African Woman…..’You Are Not Good Enough’
Model, Aamito LagumImage: Chano8 “Dear African Woman, Why must we have this conversation over and over again? Why can’t you just accept our facts about you? Facts about how unimportant you are to the general scheme of things? Facts about how your physical attributes are repulsive and unappealing? Facts that show the world that YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH?! Do you want us to go through this drill again? Do you want us to lay all the facts on the table? Didn’t you beg us to stop…to have mercy…to leave you alone? Well, now we are pissed. Maybe you need a reminder that you are unattractive, ugly, and dirty and you should be ashamed of yourself. Look at your hair. Oh that ugliness! Look at THAT nappy, unruly, unkempt, dull, kinky and coarse hair. We have told you times without number to straighten that hair. We have told you again and again that we will not let you into our companies, our schools, our parties or our magazines with that hair! Why don’t you listen?! Straighten that hair! Wear a weave! Stop following Viola Davis or Blue Ivy or that nonsense you call the #NaturalHairMovement. If you want us to accept you, then you MUST ensure that your hair looks like ours; long, silky, glossy, shiny and best of all, straight! And what is it with that nose?! Do you want to drag people’s souls in?! That flare is just too wide! Dr. Paul Nassif is a renowned rhinoplasty surgeon and he can fix that for you; if you can cough up the money. Gosh, you are just sucking up ALL the oxygen in here! Gosh, is it your plan to asphyxiate us all? Goddamn it! You would think that is the only thing wrong with you until eyes fall on those thick lips. If we were to take pictures of only your lips and rotate them either to the right or left, it would look like cellulite buttocks and you know that is UNAPPEALING! We see your lips and cannot help but think of thick slices of steak. You want to be treated like Aamito Lagum? Trust me, we can make it happen! You know what? We are tempted to finish this conversation with our backs turned to you but we are willing to make this huge sacrifice for humanity by continuing to sear this horrible image to our brain. Your breasts we can deal with but your buttocks?! Why does it have to be so thick?! So FAT?! So…primitive! Don’t you know that small and perky is the ONLY way a woman’s buttocks should be? Again, I can make contacts with Dr. Terry Dubrow and maybe – just maybe – he can turn this wide girth into something palatable. Yes, liposuction is hard but it must be easier than living with all these flaws. And the worst of them all is your skin ‘hue’; if we can call it that with a straight face. In fact, let us say it as it is; YOU ARE BLACK! Your skin color is just wrong! It looks dirty and we conclude that it is dirty! Gosh! We have given you so many options; you can use creams, injections, drugs and even laser treatments to get that dirty skin off but you wouldn’t! We have sent some of your sisters – Dencia, many Nollywood actresses, Nigerian and African celebrities – with perfect examples of what you could look like and yet, you somehow resist. We are tired of you! Do you love our ridicule?! Do you bask in our derision?! Why are you so stubborn?! Though I said your skin color is the worst, your weight comes a close second. Miss big-boned, fat slob! Lose some weight! Be like us! We are slim, we are sexy and we are glamorous! You on the other hand, blah! We want to puke! We can tolerate your sisters who are celebrities – Beyonce, Alicia Keys, Amber Rose, Blac China – because their skin color is as close to ours as is possible. We can forgive anything but a black skin. This is the last time we will tell you this. As long as you continue to be stubborn, we will not feature you in our movies, our TV shows, in our magazines, our charts, our award shows and the glamorous red carpets, our billboard ads and in our stories of success. We will exclude you from all our well carved happy stories, our human projections and our standards for beauty. We will ensure that you are not brand ambassadors to anything and if you persist, we will only push harder…and harder….and harder, until you break, until you give up, until you accept that BLACK IS NOT BEAUTIFUL! This is the last time we will bring this up. With Venom, World Racist Confederation.” Amara la NegraImage: EGL Dear World Racist Confederation, We have received your venom over and over and like you, we like to say it as it is: FUCK YOU RIGHT BACK! You said our hair is not good enough for you, right? Well…it may shock you to know but, we are okay with it! We refuse to be bullied into thinking that our natural hair is unappealing! We love it that way; that is what makes us different from the rest of the world! In fact, all our features are so unique that we cannot help but call you out on your envy. And yes, Viola Davis showed you that our hair is awesome! It must have hurt to have a natural haired African woman on one of the top tier television shows today. We bless Beyonce for putting our black, fluffy, puffy hair on world stage! Ladies, let’s get in formation! And we are not just in your movies; we are walking your fashion runways. Go ask Maria Borges who made history by walking the Victoria Secret show with her natural hair. Hey World Racist Confederation, read up a little…or
The Truest Manifestation of Love
Image: Wallpaper Printed. It was her second day at work and Tolani Davidson was nervous. She tried to hide the worry from her face but it wasn’t working. When she saw the appointment letter telling her she had been hired as one of the lead anchors for a flagship program by Africa Magic, she nearly fainted. She remembered the auditions and cringed at the many times she felt she goofed. She wasn’t sure why she was picked but she knew she was not going to mess up her lifelong dream. She, and the remaining four ladies (Hasiya, Nneka, Ogele and Ihotu), were supposed to go through some training to understand the style of the station. It was a lifestyle program that already had huge sponsorship and everyone needed to have their hands on deck. Tolani kept wondering if she could be savvy when they finally went on air. She didn’t join in the conversation the other ladies were having. She just held her phone and pretended to surf the net. The door opened and he walked in. They all looked up and Ihotu let out a gasp. The person in front of them was a young, handsome and dapper man who could only be described as suave. He wasn’t Trey Songz handsome but he had a presence about him that seemed to say, ‘I can get you, without even trying.’ He stared at each of them in turn and smiled. Tolani felt her insides fall. ‘Hi. I am Otobrise Wayemi. I will be your coach for the next few weeks. I will teach you poise on camera, how to laugh on the show, when and how to talk and the importance of listening to your producers. We will be having the biggest African stars on this show and if you are star-struck, you better get over yourself! You have to learn to be the epitome of class, carriage, poise, intelligence and sophistication. This is a huge opportunity and we are launching you all to stardom. One mistake and you are out! This business has no room for mercy. Am I clear?’ he finished by looking at Tolani. She didn’t know why but she couldn’t break eye contact. He looked at her for some more seconds then looked back at the others. Tolani felt the constriction in her chest which told her she was madly attracted to Mr. Otobrise. Mr. Otobrise went through some coaching with them for the better part of an hour. When he was done, he left his phone number and email address in case anyone had questions. As soon as he was out of the office, the girls all started talking; with the exception of Tolani of course. They went on and on about his cuteness, his ‘swag’ and how they wouldn’t mind doinghim. Tolani smiled to hide the jealousy she felt when she heard that. After a long day at work, Tolani finally went home. She showered and fixed herself a fruit salad. When Tolani was done eating, she tried to rest…but it wasn’t working. She kept thinking of Mr. Otobrise and wondering what he was like when he wasn’t so serious. The velvety quality of his voice kept caressing her as she laid on her couch. Why did he have to have that honeysuckle voice and speak so well?! Why couldn’t he have been a bore?! The frustration of trying to shake him off was telling on her. She kept fighting the urge to Google him and find out more about him. She knew it wouldn’t work so she called her boyfriend. ‘Hey baby. What’chu doing?’ *** For days, the ladies kept having different coaches on various aspects of the production. They had health and fitness instructors, skin care therapists, stylists and makeover artists teaching them proper primping methods and hair stylists to instruct them on the best hair for their show. For Tolani, only Mr. Otobrise mattered. She was learning a lot but she knew what she was feeling for him was crazy. She wanted him bad! If she wasn’t so socially awkward, she might have tried to contact him outside work but she was scared shirtless. She knew he was chummy with the other ladies. They had actually become friends. She envied the ladies but she knew there was no way she could be just friends with him. She even still called him ‘Mr. Otobrise’ to prevent her from getting attached. She was especially worried because he was coming in today. She wondered what he would be wearing, how he would smell, if he had a haircut or if he would look a little less dapper. She kept flicking her eyes from her phone to the door; waiting, anticipating. She steeled herself for his entrance but it didn’t help anything. When he walked in, her heart fluttered, her chest constricted, her breath came in short gulps and her hands became sweaty. His eyes went straight to her and Tolani was glad she wasn’t standing. She looked down and opened her pad. She made the decision not to look at him all through the lecture. She only looked up when she was sure he was looking at one of the other girls. He was halfway through his lecture on maintaining poker faces during discussions about delicate issues when his phone rang. ‘I am sorry. I have to take this. It is my wife.’ Tolani shot her head up! He was married?! HE WAS MARRIED?!! He turned to Tolani and saw the expression of hurt on her face. She didn’t even bother hiding it. As the tears slowly gathered in her eyes, she left the office and ran to the ladies convenience. She looked at the mirror and willed the tears away. They wouldn’t budge. Instead, they came in stronger and poured over. She chose a stall, sat on the toilet seat and just let it go. She cried and cried until she was spent. Why was he married?! Why did he have to be married?! Why
The Maryland Bridge Hawker
The Maryland Bridge Hawker.Image: Chibuike Casmir Lagos traffic is horrible! That is a fact. I am sure that anyone who lives or has visited Lagos one time or another can attest to this fact. It is also true that when there is that ugly traffic jam, there is almost nothing you wouldn’t see. It could be a fighting agbero, an impatient driver, the surprising ways people meander through traffic or that hawker that would chase a bus just so he can sell a bottle of fizzy drinks for ₦100. Usually, traffic in Lagos is a bedlam of activities, a combination of awful smells, an absolute drag and a time-wasting event! With all that craziness, there is that time when you get to see a genuine source of inspiration! I did. Let me tell you what happened. I was on my way home with my new friends – Tonia and Chibuike aka Chibyke. It was rush hour and most of the roads were tight. We were chatting, laughing and basically having fun in the car. We had dropped Chidi (another new friend) off a while back so we were goofing around. All the crazy stuff was just our way of coping with the horrible traffic. When we got to Maryland Bridge, we felt like we had hit the worst of the jam. I was right behind Tonia and was looking out of the window on my left. Tonia reduced the volume of the stereo which had Beyonce telling us to ‘Run the World’. She did it so she could ask a question. Chibyke’s response to Tonia’s question made me laugh out loud and turn to them. That was when I noticed him. The hawker showing his wares. He was a hawker who sold socks and handkerchief. It wasn’t the items I noticed; it was his hand…or the lack of it. He balanced the sock rack on the stub where his right hand used to be. In his good hand, he held the handkerchief and other items. He was standing at our car and seemed to be beckoning me; seemed to be willing me to continue staring. I didn’t blink. I didn’t know when I blurted, ‘I need his picture so I can write a story about him.’ Chibyke, being the sharp guy that he is, wound the glass down and called him. He asked me to take pictures as he purchased some items. I picked up Tonia’s phone but my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t focus. So many thoughts were going through my head; what if he got mad? What if he asked us to pay him for the pictures? What if he was a lout guised as a hawker? I was so worried…I couldn’t even take one shot! Tonia kept asking if I had taken the shots. I said no. She snatched the phone from me while Chibyke continued hassling. When Chibyke asked if the socks were original, the man said he only sold original and he was on that bridge every day. He went further to say that if we didn’t like the socks, we could come back and he would change them. He was such an effusive marketer that even I was tempted to buy a sock. But all this drama was so Tonia could get good pictures. She would tell Chibyke to bend for a clearer shot and the way he would do it wouldn’t give us away. She took many pictures but they just didn’t have the essence I wanted. Chibyke, seeing my frustration, paid the hawker for the socks he didn’t need and then said, ‘Guy, ehen. Make I tell you something. My friends like you well well as you dey do your work and they want write your story. Abeg, you go fit allow make we take your picture?’ The hawker smiled and said yes. I breathed a much needed sigh of relief. Chibyke took the pictures and just as we were about to ask his name, the traffic jam broke and Tonia had to drive in! Balancing his handkerchiefs so he can sell his socks. I was so inspired by the man. I know everyone hustles in Lagos but I was surprised that a man with disabilities had mastered the art of balance to function as one without. The way he switched the handkerchiefs to his neck, using his shoulder as prop and still managing to interact was wonderful! I am sure many people have seen people with worse disabilities doing better but this was new to me. You see, because I grew up in the Northern part of Nigeria, I am used to seeing people with disabilities begging. They use their disabilities as an excuse to beg…and to sometimes guilt you into giving them money. I hate to see people beg! I am totally abhorred by it. I believe people should work and earn their living; no matter how small it is. There is honor in work and ONLY disrespect in begging. So you can imagine my elation at seeing this man work! He couldn’t be making more than ₦2000 or ₦5000 per day and most times, that would just be to recover his capital. But he told us he was there every day trying to make ends meet. This should be a lesson to all the ‘big boys and girls’ who laze about saying there are no jobs. If a man with disabilities can wake up every day to ensure he is not dependent on anyone, what bloody excuse do you have with your whole body?! I am hoping to find him again and probably get a full interview; when I finally get my nerves straightened out. I want to find out his name, his story, how he lost his hand and what motivates him every day to ignore his disability and go out to make that money. If you ever pass the Maryland Bridge and see him, buy a sock or a handkerchief. Help him to be better! Help him earn his living!
