A deserted cavern

“ Oshodi, Oshodi, Ikeja Along, Oshodi! ” deafening sounds from bus conductors on a typical weekday in the commercial hub of an Oil-rich west African state. “ Bros, come siddon for front make we dey go nah, Oshodi, National, Along ” this one more specific, addressing me directly but no, I won’t give in. The traffic up ahead is out of this world especially on days when the devils are released. In this city, there are days when you can get a tad lucky and spend less time in traffic (key word: less time) and those are days when the Lagos traffic devils are snoring. “ Aboki, you dey go National ?” I approached the nearest biker. “ Oga, I no fit reach National or Along ooo, na Ajayi Farm I go stop ”, he explained that there’s a police road block ahead and ‘Okadas’ were being arrested. Okay, Ajayi farm estate it is. One more passenger and off we go. Apparently, Ajayi Farm is close to Ikeja Along bus stop (‘Along’ for convenience) and a little trekking won’t hurt. Afterall we a

It’s the d-day! How swift events have unfolded leading up to this day. Everything seems to have fallen in place. Your drycleaner delivered your bespoke suit one week ahead of this day. Checking yourself out in the mirror, you have the calm resemblance of a young Andres Villas Boas barking out orders on the Stamford bridge touchline. ‘Perfect!’ you thought.  You have a presentation to deliver, a morale-boosting speech to spur on youth who were fed up with the turn of events in their fatherland. A large number of them wanted out, they don’t care about what is on the other side, ‘we’ll survive regardless’ are their words.  It’s a free event, not even guaranteed to draw the attention of a large number of the frustrated youth, perhaps in the deep pool of motivational speaking, you could use this chance to etch your name into a group that boasts of illustrious names like Niyi Adesanya.  * * * * * * It’s a rainy day in the ancient city of Abeokuta. ‘This wouldn

“Ibeere o kin she onise…” Being an ardent lover and curious observer of an array of age-old traditions in Yoruba land, I’ve learned quite a lot over the years. The most fascinating of this lot is the ease at which a proverb pops up out of thin air to fit perfectly into any thinkable scenario. Think Ile oba t’o jo, ewa lo busi (when a king’s palace burns down, the rebuilt palace is even more beautiful), highlighting necessity as the mother of invention.  Think Eewu nbe l'oko Longe, Longe fun ara re eewu ni (there’s danger at Longe’s farm, Longe himself is danger), highlighting the need to be extremely cautious of situations that have a past history of danger.  Think Ka ka ki Kiniun she akapo ekun, oni kaluku a ma lo lotooto (a lion will never accept the role of a deputy to the tiger and vice versa), highlighting a scenario where it is almost impossible for two powerful entities to cohabit. And it goes on and on and on. “Ibeere o kin she onishe, a yaa fi eni to

Dele hardly has nightmares but whenever he does, they come to reality. First, it happened with his little sister, he saw her fall from the couch, hitting her head on the ground with little intensity, yet she stopped breathing. All efforts to preserve her life proved abortive. He got up from that terrible dream and dismissed it as just a nightmare. “Nothing is going to happen to Kemi, not when we’re extra careful,” he told himself convincingly. But it happened. Exactly one month later. The same scene replayed in his mind as the crucial moment drew nearer. She was smiling and jumping on the couch while watching Barney on TV. A sense of déjà vu hit him as Barney started singing to the kids, that was exactly what he saw in the dream moments before her fall, and it happened again. She fell, head first to the ground and stopped breathing. Kemi was just three years old, how cruel. Dele was distraught, he was fond of Kemi, his only sibling, yet couldn’t change the harsh fate that befell her.

Right there. You’ve heard it before. Not once, not twice, but countless times that regardless of how tough you find it, someone else is going through worse. While those words carry some elements of truth, the larger picture is quite disturbing. They resonate loudly in the deepest parts of our minds thereby creating a multiplier effect on our subconsciousness.      To begin with, no two individuals are the same (sorry to bore you with what you already know) and that makes it almost impossible to create a universally acceptable measure for strength or pain threshold.  The term ‘worse’ in itself is relative in its entirety. I mean, how do you decide which is a worse case in two entirely contrasting scenarios (I deliberately gave you the lead)? Even in the same conditions, there exist a myriad of details that are more than enough to make a significant difference (you feel me?). How about the multiplier effect on our subconsciousness highlighted earlier? It teaches us

Hello avid reader. Your curiosity got the better of you yet again. You know, sometimes it could lead you to places you’re not supposed to be and like a mechanical hazard, gets you drawn-in so deep into thinking about your entire existence and the choices you’ve made. More often than not, the damage grows exponentially that improvised control measures are nothing but a sham, a pitiable attempt by humanity to save what’s left of another wandering soul. Let’s take a ride, shall we? Do you remember the very first (and only) time you had that lofty idea under total control and were brought crashing back to earth abruptly? Yes, you hate to be reminded but that lofty plans failed woefully that you look so stupid to have attempted it in the first place. Accolades where due, that idea was a million dollar idea and in a different circumstance would have landed you a place among the enviable galaxy of stars. But the irony? A well thought-out plan that didn’t go beyond the larva stage

Tennis players are not allowed to swear when they are playing in Wimbledon. Because of this, line judges and umpires have to learn curse words in every language (Yes! You read right) to know when a player has violated the rules.  “You know I don’t do well under pressure,” an uninterested Chris said. “True, but it’s different this time, the heavens have smiled upon our fortunes,” Jadon countered. They were both, at the very least, half right. Chris is a bright teenager who loves everything but an appearance under the watchful eyes of a large audience. Though he was one of the most intelligent students in school, he had a modest background and frequent disagreements between his parents made him a timid individual. He would cry any time there’s tension at home and most times the backlash fell back on him like the innocent grass that witnessed a tussle between two wild beasts.   Jadon’s choice of words was most times fascinating. It’s not like they were granted a last mi

In the part of the world where I come from, a large number of people attach so much significance to male offsprings especially the first child. I’ve always wondered why that is the case but I never got any satisfactory response from those I asked so I stopped bothering. Or did I really stop bothering? Maybe I’m a bit bias because Didi, my five years old daughter is my first and only child. She’s a joy to behold, smart, witty and quite too humorous for her age. Those traits she undoubtedly got from Lola, her mom who passed away in excruciating circumstance during the birth of Dan, our second child. We lost him too some two months later and I’ve since then been living alone with Didi. “Can I get my chocolates now Daddy?” Didi asked at the end of our routine high intensity Saturday workout session. “Oh yes, here it is.” I replied handing her a box of chocolates. She’s not supposed to have it except once in two weeks for obvious reasons, unnecessary weight gain. Didi is qui