Deliberation+

Born into a middle-class home, Jane never had too much, but never went without. With a first class degree in Banking and Finance, she applied for every job she could find, including those outside her field of study. When no company called her for an employment offer, she opened her own b akery shop. She backed it up with  a bold plan: knocking on every door within her reach. “Hi, I’m Jane Badagry, your not-so-far-away neighbour. I'd like to bring some sweet delights to your home if you don't mind,” she would say with a warm smile. She was a natural charmer and a taste of her cakes was even more charming. Not too long, calls for orders began to roll in, especially for events and gatherings. Within the space of three years, she had savings, online presence and delivery routes to other cities. Life was steady until it was no longer. Jane had a boyfriend, Michael. They've been lovers for almost four years. They met during their university’s final-year dinner: she in a flowing r...

  Some people say love is complicated. I say love is simple — just put a steaming bowl of Afang soup and fufu in front of me, and watch me fall in love. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong--- the way to my heart is NOT through *** alright, alright, you don catch me 😅😅 Afang is not “just soup.” It’s heritage, comfort, and a reward after a long day of work. It’s the magic that happens when periwinkle (mfi) meets Afang leaves, seasoned with palm oil and as many edible obstacles as you can afford. Waterleaf is the party starter. It’s the one soup I refuse to share until I’m satisfied, sorry, not sorry. Every time I reheat Afang the next day with that extra touch of palm oil, I’m reminded that some things in life really do get better with time. So yes, you can have my attention, my jokes, maybe even a bite of my jollof rice… but my Afang? You’ll wait until I’ve had my fill. Because with Afang, love is measured not in grand gestures, but in scoops of soup that roll sm...

" When we lose sight of ourselves, we can’t help but cast stones " ****** After they had done all there was to stand, they stumbled still, And like wax before fire, hearts once burning with pride, they melted into nothingness. All that remained of them, was the reflex to pronounce judgment, as though their words were fate itself. Birds of the same feather, who had never flocked together, suddenly became an unbroken cord, two voices in one chorus. Seated high in their balcony, they hissed and counted, the specks of dust in their neighbours’ eyes, but blind to the beams in their own. And so, with gavel-less tongues and merciless stares, they crowned themselves, the incredible judges of our day .            Enoima We live in a world that is quick to point fingers, yet slow to look within. Sometimes, those who speak the loudest about the faults of others forget the quiet work of self-examination. This piece is a mirror—a reminder of ...

Hello, Welcome to Deliberation Plus,  a space where words meet meaning, and stories are given room to breathe. Here, you’ll find poems that whisper, short stories that linger, and reflections that reach beyond the surface.  As a writer, I believe in the power of storytelling — how a single line can make you pause, smile, or see the world a little differently. Whether it’s the rhythm of a poem, the journey of a character, or a heartfelt reflection on life, my goal is to share pieces that not only entertain but also provoke thought. So, grab a cup of tea (or whatever warms your soul), and settle in. You’re welcome to read, feel, reflect, and share your own thoughts along the way.        Let's be ourselves! Let's be extra! 💭💭💭