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Showing posts from February, 2018

This is not a Drill

i want to be stuck in an 80's song with you:
in a different space,  a different time. 
i want the days we've known to rewind
back to the very first day i saw you.

it was 1986,
a brilliant November afternoon.
our city was crawling fresh with the pest of peoples.  and from a Navy Blue Peugeot 504,  you stepped out.  all manly:  6-feet something something inch of you.  you had your shirt buttoned down,  buttoning up the delicious huskiness of your voice until you spoke half a minute later. 

i want to be stuck in an 80's song with you: somewhere far away from cellphones,
the internet and side-chicks.

the exclusive breath-taking love of the 80's,
i want that with you.

letter-writing and ditto-salutations,
loving and meeting up under trees,  Afrobeats and Fela,  the sweet melting of Jazz music in our ears. guaranteed,  you will not regret it. 
only if you come away with me and let me let you love me letting you love me till i let you get hooked. 
until i let you go,  going beyond your wildes…

The Nigerian Millennial Mother's Conference of 1989

If you are an African millennial born in Africa or the Diaspora, there’s a 70% chance you must have gone through a dramatic childhood.
And that is not because, as some parenting books would say, you were exhibiting toddler behavior, but because of your parents, most especially, your mum.

Besides personal experiences with one’s African mum, there seemed to be one ultimate truth: every mum had a similar line for executing discipline (in any situation) and upbringing generally. In recent times, millennials have employed these in making jokes, skits, and every other popular social media statement available.

Without doubt, our mothers used the same pattern in raising us up. Just last night, a colleague and friend of mine said(in not exactly these words), ‘what if millennial mothers actually had a conference on child upbringing?’ And bing, this article was born.

I’ll not even lie, prior to the discussion with this said friend of mine(whom I’m going to be referring to as X), I’d never reall…