Omolajipe

The Madness Inside

There are no words quite suitable to describe the emotions that course through my being daily. I could liken some to a sinking…but, really, without a bottom to sink to. Sort of like falling through the black hole, but with the sinking sensation. I could liken some to the feeling of nothingness. Like feeling it there and reaching for it, only to end up grasping at a shadow of something that never existed. It’s like cotton, I know it is soft and nice, I can almost feel it, but it is not really there, and I have actually never felt it before, so truly, this feeling is like nothing, and it is nothing.

I could liken some to a thick, but invisible smoke; choking and choking out of me life and will. But no one sees it, not even me. It is like being haunted by the very air you breathe. Being haunted by an airy spirit in a windy field. I could liken some to a dark cloud. Sad and depressing, but such beautiful death. Shiny silver pain, with some dusty black anguish, and some sooth in the form of my tears. A pretty type of misery. A truly enchanting sorrow, keeping me glued and dependent on the bright shiny knife, piercing into my skin.

I could liken some to a dream, no matter how fast I run, I never seem to be able to get away. I feel the fear like bile rising in my throat. I know I should be bold, and face this like a man. But my skin is made of wax, and unrepentant and relentless is this fire I have been cast into. I could liken it to a promise, the one yet unfulfilled by that scornful lover. The cast away child, who was wanted by no one, and wanted no one. A spirit so free, yet so caged by an oppressor as valid as nothing.

I could liken some to a bird, with wings of iron and steel. Such strength, built for the worst of it all, yet my maddening composition will tear me apart, and cause my existence as we know it to fall into a cycle of nothingness. It till fuel me, and make me tough, but it is driving me mad with pain and hurt, and all this anger that lies restless in me. I could liken some to a child, with a gift to heal but a heart worth dust. It will make me great, and build me into this fortress, but hear me again, I am mad, and being driven mad by the ache that is permanently present in my chest. I will walk out of it a stronger man, but my mind is damaged, and begging to be put out of its misery.

These angry thoughts, these warring feelings; I am bursting with life and death. I am overjoyed, yet overcome by the sorrow that is in me. I am rejoicing, yet mournful, for what it is that is in me. Again, do you not hear my plea? My desperate cries to be saved and sane? I could liken some to doom and death, to joy and life. I am bursting with life and death.

(Photo Credit: Yahoo Search, http://www.electricbluskies.com

“You Have No Right to Insult Nollywood”

Hello everyone! Happy new month 🙂 I hope the new year has been good to you and yours so far. Well, apart from January not wanting to end though lol…but we thank God it’s finally February. Many birthdays too! ^.^

Anyway, the reason for this piece is besides all that. I’m angry today actually. I usually get these emails about top stories, or interesting stories on Twitter. I mostly ignore them, cos I don’t really care these days. But I’m never one to shy away from controversy, and this particular story looked promising. It was a YouTube video actually, it was tweeted by popular Nigerian female actor (correct, I don’t like the word ‘actress’), Omotola Jolade-Ekehinde. In the video, another popular female actor, Stella Damasus, expresses her grievances and anger towards a comment made by Ghanaian filmmaker Leila Djansi. I really didn’t know what to expect when I clicked on the link, and when I saw the 12 minute duration, I thought I’d just exit the page as soon as I got the gist of the story. But when I started the video, however, I was beyond furious. The beginning of it all- Leila Djansi in an interview said the new filmmakers should be distinguished from the rest of the Nigerian film industry (nicknamed Nollywood) and they should be called Independents because of the negative connotation that comes with Nollywood. According to her, it would be like naming your son Hitler. First of all lol. Secondly, Hitler was a great leader, misguided and terrible FUBAR, yes, but he was a great leader…but that’s another controversial issue for another controversial day. Lol. Besides,we get the negative connotation Hitler gist, and that was terribly uncalled for. Now Stella goes on this very detailed rant about why Miss Djansi should please shut the fuck up. And I agree with Stella 100%.

If you know me, then you’ll know that I will always always take a jab at Nollywood whenever I see a movie that should not have even been allowed to exist. I’m not even going to act like I don’t think Nollywood does nonsense at times, cos the truth is that they do…too many damn times sef lol. Just like our idea of magnificent art at age 5 was drawing jargon on mummy’s kitchen wall. Are you now going to say because some 20 years later, and you’re now an art graduate, you want to make sure you are distinguished from the 5 year old kid you used to be? Madam Djansi, who studied in America, did you not watch older movies, and see some whack ass gunshot scenes for example in some noir films, or even those terrible punching effects. Have you ever heard Steven Spielberg or Martin Scorcese ask to be distinguished from the industry that produced those movies? Instead, are those movies not still celebrated because of the great visionaries, brilliant minds, risk takers behind those movies? We’ve seen better gunshot scenes than when Peter O’Toole got shot in Lawrence of Arabia, but do we say oh, let’s differentiate that industry from the industry that produced Die Hard? Everyone understands that advancements were still being made, even till date, people are still searching for better ways to do things. Madam, why don’t you make yourself useful and do that too?

It is good to be educated. Good to be able to improve yourself, and return to improve the society that brought you up. But don’t you ever make the mistake of bad mouthing or demeaning that same society that you owe your very existence too. Yes, I’ll use a similar analogy to the one Stella used, cos Africa is very keen on family. Your parents strive, and work their butts off for you to do better than they could ever dream of. They will give their all for your success in a heartbeat. It might mean they have to go without food or water or decent clothes, but as long as someday, you will be better off than them, they will delight in their toil. Then you finally become big madam/oga, and return to defecate on them, because you are “enlightened” now, and you no longer want to be associated with the poverty that they connote. This child is nothing but a bastard devil baby, who will roam the earth to never find fulfillment. No curse. A child with a good head will come back to improve her/his parents’ lives because she understands the sacrifice they willingly endured so she/he could be, and do better.

We may criticize and bash Nollywood all we like, but it still doesn’t change the fact that because of the seemingly silly movies, mistakes, whacky scenes, editing and production flaws many have made, we are now seeing better quality films being made. You will ask what about stupid movies like Blackberry Babes, or Azonto Babes, or Brazillian Hair Babes, or Kukere Babes, or whatever other God-awful titles there are out there. My question is this: isn’t that part of our story? Do you not go to campuses and observe girls who are actually like those wayward characters you see in the films? Are those stories not close to home? Lie and deny and kid yourself all you want in your high chairs, but the truth is those stories are not THAT far fetched. You want to see a high speed chase in a Nigerian movie? Lol, ok. Why should it even happen? How many high speed chases have you ever seen in Nigeria? Okay, or even heard of? How many?? So why should we take a thing that is not ours and then try to force it into our stories? Even police shoot outs, how many have you ever witnessed? Is it not true that we value our lives more than anything else in this world? For ‘gossake’ what is police shoot out? Somebody cannot come and die o jare, don’t kid yourself. On the flip side, that juju, that Babalawo (native doctor/shaman) that you see speaking and arming that amulet or charm, casting that spell…hell, some of you even have these cults or covens or herbalist in your very own families. We see you at deliverance services 😒What of that woman carrying the bowl with the sacrifice in it? Eskisss (excuse) sir, didn’t you just see a real life bowl of sacrifice at that T-junction? If nothing else, with regards to the nature and ideas of the stories, Nollywood wins for realism. Because those stories are as close to, and whacky as our real lives, and the different characters we encounter are.

Now, with regard to the disappearing scenes, or the special effects, even plot development and script sef, we do have a long way to go. And it is a VERY long way. But how old is this industry for heaven’s sake? And how old is Hollywood in comparison. Seestra (sister), Hollywood wasn’t built in day you know, and even your great achievements are passable B movies at best in the eyes of The Academy, just so you know. The African film industry is still growing, and believe it or not, you have not outgrown it, don’t kid your disillusioned self to think you are too big for Nollywood. There are concepts known as process, work-in-progress, growth, and development aunty Leila. Don’t sit on your high chair, with your fancy equipment and spew idiotic rubbish about men and women who have labored with bleeding hands to make it possible for you to even be able to know that you can express your thoughts in film. Do not for one second even try to imagine that in some parallel universe, that Nollywood didn’t make you, and isn’t still making you sef. Aunty, you can speak all the English in this world, with your eye glass that’s even asking for independence from your face, but Fuji House of Commotion over you, any day, any time. There are some of us who genuinely want to help grow Nollywood, don’t sit down there and think because you have “arrived”, you have license to operate without common sense. Career anybody le ku any fucking time (anybody’s career can die any fucking time). And it’s not even in a place like Africa that you’ll be burning bridges you haven’t even finished constructing, but that’s by the way…

Fellow Africans, Nigerians especially (everyone else is welcome though), let us address the issues and challenges we face, and proffer sustainable solutions for positive growth and development. One critical Wole Soyinka is enough abeg (please). We need more people saying this is how we move forward, not people trying to show us how wrong and bad we are. You think we don’t already know that? Please, refrain from actions to dabaru (scatter, confuse, etc) us any further.

Kind regards,

Madam Controversial

P.S:
Click on the link below for the video containing Stella’s comments on Djansi’s statement. Gotta love aunty Stella ❤️

Stella Damasus- You Have No Right to Insult Nollywood

(Photo Credit: Yahoo Search, http://www.terangaweb.com

Movie Talk: The Hannibal Lecter Franchise

Perks of having a “movie-addict” husband? One, you get to watch and have intelligent discussions about movies, cinematic techniques, plot development, etc. Two, you will NEVER run out of movies to watch. And this is no exaggeration. 😶😶 Anyway…so I thought to myself, hey, I have seen some pretty amazing movies, why not do a sort of review on my faves. Hence…my first ‘Movie Talk’ piece- The Hannibal Lecter Franchise, which is a trilogy. Well, it’s not really a trilogy cos there’s a fourth one- Hannibal Rising which is a prequel to the trilogy. But I don’t plan on seeing that soon, and the actor I’m drooling over isn’t in it. Actually, I had done a piece before this one. It was on JJ Abrams’ Star Wars: The Force Awakens, but my laptop crashed and I couldn’t find it in my OneDrive cloud storage 😭😭😭 such pain, much sad…oh well…

So…a little bit of background. The movies are based off the books by Thomas Harris. The original adaptation of the first book which Harris titled Red Dragon, was directed by Michael Mann. Oddly, the film was titled Manhunter (1986). I say oddly because since the book was titled Red Dragon, I would assume the film would also be titled Red Dragon. But it doesn’t really matter! It is still an amazing film; Michael Mann is brilliant of course. Great film! Lol…you can tell I’m just trying to skip through this one eh? Aahhh…yes. So the original first film in the series is Manhunter. It was a great film to watch, but the problem for me was, I had already seen Brett Ratner’s 2002 remake (Red Dragon), and I had fallen in love with the actors. So going back to watch Manhunter wasn’t a very fun experience.

It was still a good watch though lol. It had this slasher film vibe, yet, it also gave off some Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock) vibe as well; thee violence being more implied as opposed to being explicitly shown in the film. The protagonist, Francis Dolarhyde (the Red Dragon), also had a ‘Michael Myers from the Halloween franchise’ scary vibe; terrifying and creepy as hell. If you like horror, I think you’d like Manhunter. It gave me chills down my spine. But as I mentioned earlier on, I didn’t exactly give it my 110% in watching it, so maybe I’ll try again soon and update you on my future experience.

If you’re more of a sexy thriller lover like me, then Red Dragon is definitely it!!! Ralph Fiennes plays the Red Dragon (Francis Dolarhyde) and gad dammit! 😍😍 The giant tattoo is kinda creepy, but still subtly sexy…or maybe I’m just strange. Edward Norton plays detective Will Graham. And Daddy Anthony Hopkins 😍😍❤️❤️ plays the unbelievably intelligent and brilliant psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter who just happens to be a cannibal 😁😁✌🏾️✌🏾 Lol. Some serious stuff. This first movie focuses more on the Red Dragon, a serial killer who Will Graham is trying to catch. Though the story is essentially about him, the solving of the case gives us an introduction to Dr. Lecter, and we sort of get a feel of the kind of character he is, as he helps Will solve the case.

I think Hannibal Lecter is one of my favorite movie characters so far. The dynamic between him and Will was very interesting to observe. It was a very strange relationship, to put it one way. I mean, the movie starts with Dr. Lecter trying to kill Graham, so errr…yeah…not your conventional everyday relationship. Anyway, Dr. Lecter is behind bars now, and is helping Graham solve the case in exchange for some things. I won’t spoil it too much. What interests me about their relationship is the subtle competition between them. Dr. Lecter was basically Graham’s mentor and teacher, and suddenly, he’s trying to kill him cos he uncovered who he is. Sort of like training your protégé and then trying to take him down when you realize he has gotten as good as you, if not even better. Very interesting, but subtle idea I noticed.

But that is not where my infatuation with the character stems from. It begins in Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs (1991), which is based on Thomas Harris’ second book in the Hannibal Lecter series, which is also titled same. Dr. Lecter is still in jail, and this time, no Will for him to continue his crazy games with. We have a young lady, Clarice. Even now, I still hear Hannibal calling her name… “Clarice”…and boy do I wish I was the damn Clarice! 😒 Oh well. Jodie Foster, amazing amazing actress plays Clarice, an agent in training at the FBI academy. Dr. Lecter says she’s a honey trap…gotta agree with him. Crawford knew Lecter would be interested in a fine young lady with a great head on her shoulders 😏 Anyhoo…there’s another case, but I won’t go into the details much. Moving on now, Lecter helps Clarice navigate the tricky case, while playing games with her of course. Lol. There’s a quiet bond forming between both of them, strong as that between a father and a daughter…low key though. He gets to know her on a deeper level, slowly crawling into her head to explore her deepest fears, hopes et al.

It’s almost as if he may fill that void in her life…almost as if he cares, in his own twisted fashion of course. I think, maybe, just maybe Dr. Lecter has a human side, oh wait, he just…ugh, nope, false alarm people. Oh well…but something is brewing…oh, Dr. Lecter definitely has a soft spot for Clarice. Then comes Ridley Scott’s 1991 Hannibal based off Harris’ third book. And boy oh boy, do we indeed see Hannibal! I love Ridley Scott. I mean Gladiator, Alien, Prometheus, American Gangster… This man is a legend. Lol. See what I did there? (N.B: Prometheus! That’s all. One word. Prometheus. Finish. You owe it to yourself to see that movie in 3D. It is just everything! And Alien, oh my God. There are some great people in this world).

The final film reveals a part of Dr. Lecter that we do not expect. It is a continuation of what happens in the second film. Dr.Lecter has unquestionably developed a thing for Clarice. And it is as freakishly creepy as it is truly beautiful. Without giving too much away, I’m going to share my thoughts on that. Dr. Lecter is a cannibal, ew, bad man yada yada yada. True…but Hannibal Rising (the fourth movie which is actually the prequel to the original trilogy…George Lucas’ people 😒) shows us his backstory, and helps us empathize with the character. In the final film, Hannibal, he explains how he chooses those he eats. Not the sincerely good people, but the rude… And the first thing I thought to myself is well who is he to decide who is rude and who is good. It’s funny because any justice system operates the same way. It doesn’t matter if this person only lashed out cos he/she was having a temporary crisis, the deed has been done, the evidence says bad person, and hey, this person has done this or something similar before. Doesn’t really matter who the person truly is beneath all the layers of dirt, the evidence of the person’s guilt is all that matters. Hey, Dr. Lecter might as well be any law enforcement body or official. Standard set of codes to determine who is good and who is bad. Pretty universal codes though? No?

And then there’s the Lecter-Clarice situation. Jullian Moore plays Clarice in this one, and she’s equally as great. What really got me was how Dr. Lecter basically watched over her like a hawk. Anyone who wanted to harm her would have to go through him first. Example: there’s this douche who makes false accusations and gets Clarice suspended. And what does Dr. Lecter do when he gets wind of what’s happening to his baby girl? He cooks dinner. Cuts the douche’s head open, and cooks a part of his brain, and feeds it to the heavily drugged douche who raves about how good it tastes. Bruh. That’s a whole new level of sick. But what else says don’t fuck with my baby better than that? 😭😭

When I started watching this last chapter, I was really creeped out by Lecter’s character, especially as his feeding process got more graphic in comparison to the earlier films. I almost wanted him out of the story. But as the film turned towards the relationship between him and Clarice, I didn’t realize when I fell in love with him. I even cried at the end. It just warmed my heart; it was twisted, and it was sooooo beautiful. And the way he’d draw out her name… ‘Clarice‘… 😍😍 oh, we definitely have a “much older man” crush! His protectiveness of her was very admirable and worthy of an envy. Visiting her house when she wasn’t home, coming by in the middle of the night in a totally non-creepy way, and the way he brushed her hair with his fingers on a couple of occasions ❤️❤️. Also, the very adorable and sweet way he notices her heart’s desire and gifts it to her later. Very fatherly gesture…or older man in a relationship with younger lady kind of thing. 😉😉

Oh well. It really got me thinking, and longing for the same protectiveness. Someone who is going to take it that personally when I am hurt or upset by someone else. But damn, that has to be one sick son of a bitch…and hey, gotta be careful what you wish for. In summary, I love ANTHONY HOPKINS in this film! 😍😍😍 I love Hannibal Lecter, I love Clarice, and I absolutely adore the dynamic between the two of them!!! ❤️❤️ And we really wish they’d make another Hannibal movie. 😭😭 I feel like there’s so much that could still be explored with regards to the Lecter-Clarice dynamic/relationship. Especially after that ending…hmmmm…fingers crossed. Honestly, they seem to be done with though. But hey, a girl can still be hopeful right?

Books: (by Thomas Harris)

Red Dragon (1981)
The Silence of the Lambs (1988)
Hannibal (1999)
Hannibal Rising (2006)

Films: (in suggested order)

Hannibal Rising (2007, Peter Webber)
Manhunter (1986, Michael Mann)
Red Dragon (2002, Brett Ratner)
The Silence of the Lambs (1991, Jonathan Demme)
Hannibal (2001, Ridley Scott)

(Photo Credit: Yahoo search, http://www.teammovies.com)

I miss my friends…

Sometimes, I miss my friends. Most times. There are so many of them I see today, and they have grown into such beautiful, intelligent, strong women. And I just want to tell them how amazing they are, and how I miss them and our friendship. But I don’t know how to start, and I don’t want to make things awkward. So I just admire from a distance. You go girl! You are making me so proud and thankful to be blessed with ovaries just like you are. God bless you beautiful woman. ❤️

Happy New Year!

“New year, new me; it’s all bullshit.” Seems to be the new in-thing now lool. Funny people. As much as social media is going crazy about the whole new me thing being bs, I don’t think we should do away with the thought completely.

You know that feeling when you finish using your old pen, and you start using a new one? Or when you’ve filled up the pages of your journal, and you get to start a new one. That feeling when you get a new notebook for your subject, and you try to make your writing neater than usual, draw all your lines and diagrams with extra care, even highlight words, or emphasize ideas using different ink colors. Yes? No? Okay.

There’s this natural feeling of newness. One cycle ends, a new cycle begins. One chapter of the book ends, a new chapter begins, or hell, a new book entirely. One season passes, another begins. The last day of the calendar ends, a new calendar begins. True we actually never change, but we all grow, and develop, negatively or positively.

You want to completely turn around your habits, lifestyle, whatever, this year? Then good luck. Make a note. Design a banner, hang up a poster. Remind yourself daily of your goals. Pray for strength and grace. Be a new you, be the best version of you yet. You want to stick it to the man? Throw that good for nothing SOB to the curb? Yay you! I wish you the very best, and I pray you find the strength and grace to hold your head up high and walk away from the rot like the king or queen you are.

The past year has been quite a year. And the one valuable lesson I’m taking away from it is that I’m really not a child anymore, and it’s time to start saying more of “fuck it, fuck you, I want this, I’m taking it.” For me, this new year is an opportunity to start afresh, try new things, see, explore, dare to defy, to be different. For me, I want this year to see the best me yet, and I say this prayer for my friends and family. May this year be our best yet, may it see the best versions of us yet.

So go out, be a new you. Try on that sexy dress, buy that teddy ☺️ rock those shoes, love that body, care for that body, love that person. Finish that book, start that class, give that cutie your number (trust me on this one lol), be on time for that class, surprise that woman, workout for 7 days in a row. There’s no magic or miracle that will turn everything around in a second, but take those little steps, make those little decisions, say those little words…step by step, day by day, prayer by prayer, this year will indeed see the best, brightest, sexiest, boldest version of you yet.

Happy New Year beautiful people, have a great 2016!! 😘😘

Blue

Sometimes I search

Sometimes I look

Sometimes I wonder

Sometimes I ask

Sometimes I worry

Sometimes I fear

Sometimes I question

Sometimes I blame

Sometimes I cry

Sometimes I hurt

Sometimes I ache

Sometimes I die

Sometimes I stop

Sometimes I lose

Sometimes I fail

Sometimes I mope

Sometimes I know

Sometimes I’m sure

Sometimes I hope

Sometimes I’m sure

Sometimes I find strength

Sometimes I carry on

Sometimes I can’t

Sometimes, I won’t

Sometimes it hurts

Some times I’m alone

Sometimes I sleep

Sometimes I dream

Sometimes I see

Sometimes I don’t

Sometimes I breathe

Sometimes I feel

Sometimes I choke

Sometimes I’m numb

Sometimes I live

Sometimes I exist

Sometimes I’m here

Sometimes I’m near

Sometimes I can

Sometimes I can’t

Sometimes I go on

Sometimes I can’t

Sometimes I ask, search, wonder, look

Sometimes I find, I see

Sometimes I smile, I hope

Sometimes, I break, I’m broken

Sometimes you see, sometimes you don’t

But sometimes I hurt, sometimes I cry…

For RJ ❤

For every beautiful night, every perfect day
For every moment I never want to end
For every little thing that makes my heart melt a little more
For every solemn night, every quiet day
For every time now, and every time to come…
Therein lies my promise
– ❤

My Ofada Story

If you know me, you would know I don’t eat much, but when it comes to ofada, there’s no messing with me. I have two weaknesses in this life: Garri ijebu and ofada. Surefire ways to my heart. Grandma and mummy know that. That is why they embarked on a historical partnership to bring baby girl these goodies from the other side of the Atlantic.

It was some two weeks back when mummy told me that my aunt was coming to the abroad, so I should send my list. Yes, exactly. It was like hearing I had just won $50k in the lottery. So I made my list. Actually, more like I copied and pasted my list immediately she asked. I always keep my list updated and handy for such events as this. Sha, I sent my list.

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I was so excited, I was practically skipping around the house. The plan was I’d travel to NYC with my aunt to meet my other aunt who was bringing the bags filled with so much love and affection. Next thing, phone went off, bzzz bzzz…mummy. “Hello love, how are you?” “I’m fine Toyin, just calling to give you your bill. #25k.” “Ah, juz lai dat? (just like that) No “don’t worry, mummy will take care of it”, no love for a young baby girl?” “Sorry, you’ve gone past that stage, you’re ready to be borning your own pikin (giving birth to your own kids). So no more free food.”

My heart was breaking, she wasn’t even going to let me send the money to her, she was just going to tax the gift daddy was sending me. Such # government (harsh government). 😢

Consolation was that mummy said her and grandma had jointly made the ofada sauce…at this point, I remember the end of that poem we learnt in school…

“And each to each sing

Songs of love.”

-Life in Our Village by Matei Markwei

…this was such an emotional moment for me. I not only get ofada, but I get ofada cooked with all the love in this world :’) what have I done to deserve such favor from the gods? Sha, I reason the thing…for garri and ofada, come and take my birthright sef (lol, jk). Iz no problem mama, too much money sef, just take whatever you need. 😎😎

Aunty took off from Naija. Countdown began. This one pass Ball Drop excitement sef. I started making plans for the trip. Planning to get my hair done, picking the outfit that I’d wear to go and pick up my babies 😍😍 Someone cannot go and fumble and look like a hobo where ofada tinz are consined (ofada related activities are concerned). Some few days to trip, mummy called me at 7pm here, which is 1 am Nigerian time. She was asking me question, I was answering. Mostly about awon olori ike (plastci headed) GTBank that want someone to come and have ‘att attack’ (heart attack) because of bvn sometin. Shaa..next thing mummy now started to vex, that she was already going to sleep and I’m keeping her awake, iz one h’a h’em in Nigeria for gosssake (it’s one am in Nigeria for God’s sake). Ahn ahn, eskiss ma, beht izz you that call me now (Ahn ahn, excuse me ma, but you were the one who called me). :s

Sha, I vex and off phone. Then I sent I love you message after, so that shoe will not fly from Nigeria and hit me. As if this was not enough emotional trauma, my Aunty had to call me to say ofada bag af lost (had gotten lost) somewhere during the baggage transfer, and they af sheck (had checked) America, London and Lagos, and iz not dia (it’s not there). Ah! Awon aye that don’t want somebody to jaiye with ofada! (Ah, the evil world people that don’t want someone to enjoy life with ofada) I begin to hope, but hope die when aunty say 5 days, they are sasshing (searching) for bag, bag not found. Ah…awon aye! (Ah, the evil world people!)

Sad Doge

Three days weeping, crying, dazed, and confused. Ah, it hit me hard. I almost sank into depression. Real stuff. The ofada sauce was frozen alright, then wrapped, the put in freezer bags, but after almost a week in whatever storage they put the suitcase in…such bleak prospects 😭😭😭😭 Then, there was also the problem of “let customs not find the bags of formerly frozen ofada gone bad, and now trash every other thing in the bag”. Owo ma ti jona ni yen. (Money has entered fire is that) Ah! Issolova. (It’s all over) This is how it ends. This is how the ofada tale ends. No joke oh, I cried…it was a very painful sometin. Even husband couldn’t console me, and you know ozband (husband) is easy consolation sometin for me (can easily console me *wink wink*). But not this time. This time, izz me and my God, and this my ofada that go and enter one chance*. I don even know where to start prayer from, what am I even praying for? Ah ofada! Ofada! Why you do me like this? 😢

Today, I sha wake up around 6, usual time alarm goes off. I check my phone as usual, cos it’ll be midday in Nigeria already, mummy would’ve blown up my phone. I see something. Issalie (it’s a lie), my eye is playing tricks. Tricks I say! Ayee. Please, don’t play with my emotions. My heart is still wheacck (weak) and fragile. Please, please. Could it be? Is it true? Oh Lord Jesus!!!! It’s a miracle!!!

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Handle is small tin abeg. This is a miracle that calls for wrapper, gele**, and the slaughter of goat. Testimony time!

“Ever since I moved to the Northeast, I’ve prayed against every spirit of winter. But today, I bless the name of the Lord who has made it possible for us to have winter, and I will love this winter with all my heart. Ah! And I say to you dear brethren that the Lord who made it possible for this winter to preserve my ofada even for as long as it was lost for, will surely preserve you and your loved ones this festive period.”

Seasons greetings from yours truly!

–♥

“Ofada makes the world go round…”

___ and Enlightenment Campaign (WEEC)_ Ofada Rice_ Quick cooking tips

*- a vehicle that leads you nowhere, but to doom, destruction, and death

**- a Yoruba traditional head tie

As for the meaning of ofada, it is not something I can define or explain to you; it is an experience…a feeling…one which you must strive to know for yourself…

African Poets: Wole Soyinka

Abiku

In vain your bangles cast
Charmed circles at my feet;
I am Abiku, calling for the first
And the repeated time;

Must I weep for goats and cowries
For palm oil and the sprinkled ash?
Yams do not sprout in amulets
To earth Abiku’s limbs.

So when the snail is burnt in his shell
Whet the heated fragment, brand me
Deeply on the breast. You must know him
When Abiku calls again.

I am the squirrel teeth, cracked
The riddle of the palm. Remember
This, and dig me deeper still into
The god’s swollen foot.

Once and the repeated time, ageless
Though I puke. And when you pour
Libations, each finger points me near
The way I came, where

The ground is wet with mourning
White dew suckles flesh-birds
Evening befriends the spider, trapping
Flies in wind-froth;

Night, and Abiku sucks the oil
From lamps. Mothers! I’ll be the
Suppliant snake coiled on the doorstep
Yours the killing cry.

The ripest fruit was saddest;
Where I crept, the warmth was cloying.
In the silence of webs, Abiku moans, shaping
Mounds from the yolk.
– Wole Soyinka

Ilekedi…

Three things I’ll remember about her
Three things I’ll never forget about this night
Three things I’ll forever ponder on
Three truths that I will never cease to grapple with

Her name was a mystery, like herself
Many have searched, albeit in vain, to find
Some say its the key to taming her
So she keeps it a secret; she locked that door and threw away the key

I didn’t ask for her name, I didn’t even think I would come so close
But she looked at me that night,
And opened up the deepest parts of my soul with those eyes
Upturning the dirt and ashes that had buried my secrets

Three things I’ll remember about her

The way she swayed her hips,
lost in her own designed ecstasy
The beads that adorned her waist,
sculpting her frame, undulating with her dance
The way she looked transformed
from mere mortal to revered deity

Three things I’ll never forget about that night

The way she looked at me, with eyes so beautiful,
yet rid with the sadness of a generation
The way the room faded away when she moved
as if it were just her and I locked in a battle of wills
The way her beads drew me in to her
holding me captive to her every twist, every turn

Three things I’ll forever ponder on

Why she singled me out, plain old me
instead of the usual patrons falling over each other for her
Why her movement, body, and soul spelled a sorrow
unlike any I’ve known; the kind that comes from fear
Why her beads danced around her waist
as if in a dirge, mourning a loss

Three truths I’ll forever grapple with

She was me, she became me, she is me
like a distant memory, foggy and dreamy,
of a past that was mine, a life I once lived
She was trapped; hiding in constant fear
I was trapped; hiding in constant fear
of who I was, who I was becoming
She held a secret, a certain power, and mystical force
in those beautiful beads that were my undoing
and in those beautiful eyes that told a thousand stories…

*Ilekedi: traditional beads worn around the waist by women for beautification or ritualistic purposes. Common in the African society.