Deliberation+

  Yesterday, on my way home from work, I saw something at the Ozumba Mbadiwe Road that has refused to leave my mind. A man was standing by the side  of the road sleeping.  Cars slowed down and carefully drove past him, avoiding him the way one would avoid a pothole or a fallen pole. The scene looked ordinary at first, yet the more I thought about it, the heavier it became. Although this is common with the military who are capable of sleeping with their eyes opened in order to stay alert, but how tired must a man be to fall asleep on his feet? What kind of exhaustion silences the instinct to move away from danger to even care about living? But maybe that man wasn’t just one man. Maybe he was all of us. Because every day, many of us are standing and sleeping too , awake but not alive. We show up at work, attend meetings, laugh when we’re expected to, and scroll through our screens till the day ends. Still, somewhere inside, we’re barely conscious, running on fumes and pr...

  Take now this knife, And pierce through my vein. If our blood runs the same in strife, Then strike your heart and feel my pain. “Everyone is equal,” you preach, Yet only when your race is in reach, But toward my kind, your rage is unleashed, Unholy anger, for staying unbleached. Wasn’t it you who came to our shores? Hiding deceit behind polished doors? With smiles that masked the theft of clans, Insisting that we accept your foreign plans? I lost myself when you changed my name, Almost drowned in despair and shame, Till the Trinity came, with mercy embraced, And my chains of despair were forever replaced. How dare you forge my history’s page? What right have you to bind my stage? To choke my breath in misery’s knife, Tell me, when can I truly live my life?

Sometimes, no be sleep we dey find but na peace of mind. But until we catch am, sleep go just dey play hide and seek. E be like e don watch the feem 'Legend of the Seeker' come dey use me do practical. True true o, sleep no gree me last night. I turn left, I turn right, e still dey do hide and seek with me. My body tired but my mind no wan hear word. Thoughts just dey waka upandan like danfo wey no get conductor. I think about bills, people wey don vex me, people wey I vex, dreams wey I never chase, and some wey don chase me reach half-road. Even the mosquito for my ear sef dey reason life with me,  “Oga, you never pay rent, abi na only me go suffer?” Na that kind night you go realise say silence get noise. Fan dey blow but e no cool anything. Even my phone screen bright pass my future that moment. I scroll, I scroll, as if Instagram fit drop sleep for my eyes. But you see, sometimes, when sleep no gree come, e dey try tell you say, “My guy, rest no just mean close eye.” E m...

Sometimes, the sea doesn't just show you beauty, it gifts it to you. This was one of my experiences at the Takwa Bay, the beach off the coast of Lagos Lagoon with an endless roll of the Atlantic.  When I first set foot in Lagos a couple of months ago, I thought I was simply entering a city. But Lagos is not a place you merely enter. It is a force that enters you. Within this period, this city has handed to me experiences apparent for five to ten years of living in some other cities in Nigeria.  Although I am tempted to talk all about it in this post,  but I'd rather receive the grace to stick to Takwa, my bae 😘.    No, wait, I need to rant this out. So I once tipped an agbero for pointing me to where I'd get a bus to my destination, but instead of being thankful, he refuted with a murmur, " fine girl this one no reach your level na " and demanded for more. Uncle it's not your fault o, na me allow my good heart to influence me. Sorry, I don repent.This...

  "I thought I was just boarding a bus to church. Instead, Lagos handed me my first brush with a one chance vehicle" It was a Sunday morning in my third month in Lagos. I was running late, and impatience whispered me into a decision I would never forget in a hurry.  Instead of waiting for the slow-loading buses at the park, I jumped into a moving bus on the express.  The vehicle was a faintly yellow BRT-like bus, the kind Lagos is full of. Inside, rows of three-seaters at the back, and two seats in front. People were already seated, looking respectable, ordinary, and responsible. The conductor waved me to the front seat beside another passenger. I slid in, thinking nothing of it. Though there were still empty seats to be filled, the driver sped off without waiting for more passengers. That should have warned me, but I brushed it aside. This is Lagos, I thought. Drivers here choose who they carry and who they leave behind. Almost immediately, the conductor pressed me for m...