SHALLY A.

  In Yoruba language there is a saying,  ‘eni to lori, ko ni fila; eni to ni fila, ko lori, ’ literally meaning, ‘ no man can have it all.’     The undoing of man is the incessant way we scratch our heads, biting deep, in search of what we do not have. We pierce our hearts, craving to be like  Mama Titi , and savor all we see behind the closed doors of  Mama Titi’s  house.  Pause and think...  Do you really know what transpires in the cold waiting room beyond doors closed? Closed doors are the greatest deceivers – masks – refusing to unveil the divergent colors of men. Closed doors wall-up the ways we can sieve through hearts. They shut us off completely, dropping little crumbs of what others want us to see at their doorsteps. Then, we begin to dream of the pleasurable taste of their lives because we see the  masquerades.  We become   deeply lost in the crumbs that we forget to look a little deeper. We get lost in their sweet tasting words; we forget to ask mo

The sound of a siren rings in my head. My sweat dripping body turns, adjusting my eyes to the normal darkness of my room. I reach for my watch and touch light under my pillow, my eyes bulging out of my eye socket… 6am ke! I overslept. Stretching and rushing my prayers (sha chanted something), run to the bath, dress, do a little house work and ‘yippee’ am out by 7am. And here goes my Lagos day (saying it in a Jenifa’s voice) The bus conductors use the gong and crying method to advertise their different bus stop names “Isaga, ogba, agege’. Driver’s hands are glued to their horns. There is always something to horn or scream at with your head hanging outside the driver’s seat window “get out of the way”. Everyone is going somewhere in their cars, tricycles, bicycle, motorcycle, wheelbarrow or legedes benz. The bus line (that is if there is a line sef) is long and depressing. When a bus stops to pick passengers, I notice that the door has almost fallen off, smh well; it’s still tran

LOVE: Love lasting overflowing vulnerable and enduring. Love huh! It seems time stops when we finally find you. We are not rushing to the unfathomable future; not caring about the silly whinny past. I walk down the street with a new beam. Sunshine clouding my eyes. My smiles shyness is gone, am wide mouthed in love.   HAPPINESS: There are times that I feel like the world is changing me around and that my soul has so little to dance about. I have so many words in my heart and my voice fails to speak out loud. In the stillness of my heart, am praying to find a reason, a will to be madly happy. I just don’t know how to let myself know that everything is for a time, am keep waiting for us to find each other. Huh! Happiness it seems like you are lost and found and I really need this sunlight smile of mine. THE BOOK: My life is like a book. I had no right to choose the cover. It was fearfully designed from up above. It’s an irony though that the pages are blank. I am allowed

I met Taiwo through my cousin Bimpe, they were very close friends. The first thing I noticed about him was that he seemed hard enough to handle  her. Bimpe was no raw meat and she had a hard exterior which too many people were afraid to crack to find the soft gush of love. Maybe that’s what made me like him. I  also found out his twin sister was someone whom we had shared, played and laughed together throughout my first year in the University.  Kenny, Biola and Femi had made my year one bearable. Sometimes, I remember the strong sound of laughter that came from their room and smile. Taiwo and I worshiped in Daystar, I saw him almost every Sunday. He usually dropped me near my house. The last time I saw him, he was going to see Bimpe and I went with him. Somehow, his car developed a fault and our 10 minute journey was turned to an hour. We ended up parking the car in a nearby parish and took a tricycle to Bimpe's place. Alas! the most wanted Bimpe was not at home, so we tal

As I walk down the street away from the voting center, am perplexed, angry and disgusted. When will I live with absolute believe in my country? When will I go to the office without getting dirty due to the dust on the street? When will green, white, green mean life, purity and plenty food.  I see their eyes every morning, the stains of neglect, betrayal, confusion. The stressful lines that depict that they haven't had a good night, NEPA obviously has failed and the next meal is a mystery. I see the boy that came from Anambra saying ‘Aunty Aunty I am from secondary school Nnawfia and I walk away wondering if he wants to steal my purse or jazz me. Later I realized that I had known him or he had known me. I thought to myself OMG!! why didn’t I take a second look (secondary school Nnwafia was where I taught English Language two years ago during my NYSC). The depressing thoughts came: What was he doing in Lagos?  Did he come for greener pastures? He didn’t look any greener to me;

Mother: magnificent offer to harness, enrich and refrain. A mother can words describe her? Can letters paint her? Can life be without her? 'Iya.' A nursery rhyme says it all; who sat and washed my infant head, when sleeping on my cradle bed and tears of sweet affection shed, my mother. That song played a certain tune in my mind as I watched her hold her baby. Hmm! Thoughts flowed through my heart and my mind realized that she had a certain look, maturity; a responsible yet loving adoration for the tiny baby she held in her arms. He was so small and today they called him a name; a name that father, mother, grandfather and grandmother put much thought in and suddenly a craft, a word seemed to hold their hopes, love and dreams –Oluwatimilehin, Anjolaoluwa, Abubakar. I wonder when a mother’s love begins. Is it from the 'yes I am pregnant' or when she brings life into the world? She feeds, lives, sleeps for two. She can’t be selfish, for a life depends on her. She