My Ex and I

We sat together one midnight, reading together. We were in the same department in the faculty of engineering, but he was a year ahead of me. He was tall, light, and handsome. I felt he was one of the finest guys I had ever laid eyes on, I don’t know if he felt the same way about me, cos I was a cute petite girl, with very tomboyish attitude.

We hit it off immediately. He showed interest in me, and I in turn, flashed a very bright green light to him. Before you knew it, we were an item. My mum found out I was in a relationship, she was not happy because he was not Yoruba. She needn’t have bothered her head, the relationship wasn’t going to last anyway.

I started getting tired of him. He loved me too much. He was too in to me. He was too crazy about me. He wished he could hang out with me every day, every second. It irritated me, annoyed me, drove me nuts. I began to pull away, become distant, but tried to cover it up. I didn’t want to break his heart. One midnight reading session, I lied that I wasn’t in the department reading. His roommate saw me, and told me my ex was somewhere around. He was surprised not to see us reading together. I begged his roommate not to tell him he saw me. His roommate told him.

He confronted me. I tried to give him a flimsy excuse, he wasn’t buying it. He knew I wasn’t that much into him anymore. He didn’t know why. I didn’t know why. I mean he was a fine boy. What else could a girl want in uni? Some days later, after a couple of back and forth, he broke up with me. He said he wasn’t interested anymore, he didn’t like me anymore, he had started liking someone else. It was finally over. It lasted just three months. I was sad, I tried to weave the whole thing to look like his fault, but it was my fault. I think I was sadder that he was the one who broke up with me, rather than the fact that the relationship had ended. Whenever anyone asked, I told them he was the one who broke up with me. I played the victim.

We went on holidays. He started missing me, he called once or twice. When we resumed, he asked me out again, and said we should start afresh. I had gotten over him and the break up, so I turned him down. I went home that day, called him up, and gave him a tongue-lashing of his life. How dare he break up with me, put me through all the torment, and then turn around to come back? My position as the victim was finally cemented.

We were just on a ‘hi’ level. When my dad died, he commiserated with me. I knew when he got his first job, and eventually left the country for his masters. We kept in touch from time to time, via email. A few years later, I promised to let him know the next time I was in the UK.

I went to the UK when I was going through a rough patch, and told him I was around. His reply was kinda cold, saying he was in India or so. I got back to Nigeria, and he kept in touch. Few months later, I was back there. We hooked up. He was extremely proud of me, and what I had achieved. I was proud of him and what he had achieved. He was almost done with his PhD, at such a young age. I asked him if he told his girlfriend he was meeting me, to which he affirmed. He took me to a nice Japanese restaurant. I told him about my most recent ex, and what his family put me through. He scolded me for wanting to marry into such a family in the first place. It was a great time with him, and I promised him a nice time whenever he comes to Nigeria.

A year later, he came to Nigeria to apply for a visa to Germany for a job interview. He was such a high flyer. He called me up on my promise. After several clashes in time schedule, we finally fixed the date he was supposed to leave the country. I took him out. He told me of how he proposed to his girlfriend. I took him to the airport, stayed with him till he went through the security check point. His girlfriend called. This time, I didn’t bother asking him if she knew I was with him. Of course, she didn’t know. She would most likely not approve that he hooked up with me in Nigeria. That was the last time I saw him.

The next time he was in Nigeria, it was for his wedding. He invited me… as a friend… all the way to Port Harcourt. Of course, I didn’t go. Even if it were in Lagos, I wouldn’t go. To do what? Who do I know there? He’s the only one I know. I was happy for him. I congratulated him.

My ex and I are really cool friends.

But I knew it was time to end the friendship.

Source

Abdulsalam

Abdulsalam was just a Hausa guy that used to hang out with his fellow Hausa friends in their kiosk opposite my house. Well, I honestly am not sure if he’s Hausa, but you know that to all westerners, any black skinned guy from the north is automatically Hausa, so he’s Hausa to me. Whenever, I, my brother, or mum, gets to the front of our gate, once we unlock the padlock, he would rush there and open the gate for us, and then lock it. He did this all the time, and we said thank you. It was obvious he wanted something, but we didn’t know what it was, and we were not interested in finding out. Ours was an extremely nuclear family who minded their business, and we intended to keep it that way. Abdulsalam also washed my brother’s cars, and cars of some fellow neighbours packed outside, for a little stipend. There was nothing strange about that.

After a while, Abdulsalam couldn’t take it anymore. He had been throwing bait at us, and we weren’t biting. He approached my brother, and directly made his request. He wanted to be our gateman. The thing is, we didn’t need a gateman. We were fully grown, and all had keys to the house. We could open the gate by ourselves, and we didn’t have so many numerous visitors that we would have to be opening the gate for 100 times a day. But Abdulsalam was wise. He knew we had a gateman’s apartment, and he was badly in need of a place of his own. I’m sure he saw it as a mansion, compared to him squatting in the kiosk with about 5 other friends of his. The gateman’s apartment has been used as a poultry house, dirt house, thrash house, store, ram and goat house, and every other thing apart from a gateman’s house. Abdulsalam knew this, and he was gunning for the kill.

So he and my brother reached an agreement. He would man the gate, wash all the cars, care for the flowers, and sweep the compound. He would in turn, get his accommodation and a monthly salary. He would not be allowed to have the keys to the house. He was to leave the house shortly after my mum and brother leave, go about his business, and return when everyone returned. Did I mention that Abdulsalam was also a shoemaker? Yes he is, a wise guy with multiple streams of income, no matter how meagre. So I saw Abdulsalam in the compound one day. I asked him what he was doing inside, and he told me about the agreement between him, my mum, and my brother. And that is how Abdulsalam became our gateman by force.

The thing is Abdulsalam does not wash my car often. I work from home weekdays, and resume other jobs on weekends. Abdulsalam knows this, I know this, and we are both fine that my car gets the least priority. Another thing is Abdusalam is not so security conscious. Whenever he gets back in the evening, the gate should be bolted, rather than locked, cos Abdulsalam is there to man it. But sometimes, he’s nowhere to be found, and the gate is wide ajar. One time, I got home almost 12 midnight, and the gate was not locked, or even bolted. Abdulsalam had slept off in the compound, and he didn’t hear me come in. it was not until I actually drove in, that he jumped up. Of course, I reported all these lapses to my brother, concerning his ‘staff’. He is getting better now, but there’s still so much to be done concerning his security ‘expertise’.

One day, I was smelling strange things in the house. I investigated, and realised Abdulsalam didn’t go about his daily business. He has invited one of his friend in, were burning hausa incense. I accosted him, and he said it was perfume that he wanted his room to be scented. Inside me, I was mad, but I gently told him not to burn strange incense in the house. It smelt really foul and was choking the whole house. I reported to my brother, who was mad about the fact that he breached the agreement and didn’t leave the house after they all did, invited someone over, and was burning strange thing.

Whenever he does something wrong, and you tell him, he would start kneeling down, begging, saying “Sorry, ma, I no go do am again” over and over again. The whole scene is just a sight to behold that one just shakes one’s head.

Last week, I went to buy eggs at another kiosk opposite my house. Abdulsalam was at the kiosk, talking to the owner. He had a burning cigarette in his right hand. Immediately I told the woman to give me egg, he heard me, and threw the cigarette away, right in my presence. I asked him why he was hiding and pretending. I guess he’s an idiot who thinks I am an idiot. Does he think I don’t know he smokes like a chimney? Doesn’t he know he reeks of cigarette fumes every Sunday and Saturday morning, when I tell him to quickly clean my car, because I need to rush out? Doesn’t he know his extremely red eyes give him away when he is high on something? Or is it his brash statements I know he would have never had the guts to make on a normal day?

Abdulsalam set up a shoemaker shop in front of the house without permission. He constituted a nuisance. He used an umbrella of mine I had been looking for, for a about two weeks. I collected my umbrella, and told him to take his make-shift shop down. I reported to my mum and brother who were away at work. He didn’t want to take his shop down, he kept lying about different thing, shouted, begged, lied. In the end, it got a bit messy, he said he was leaving, and boasted about he had done ‘security’ in four different places. He packed his load and plates along with my mum’s fabreware knife, which I collected when I saw. He packed his bed, along with my chill and relax banner he was using as a bedsheet, which I had warned him never to do when I first saw him. Before I knew the banner was missing, it was six days after Abdulsalam had left.

Something to Note: I just added that last paragraph this morning. The first edition of this story didn't end like this, cos Abdulsalam was still with us when I wrote this article. I ended it with "This guy, Abdulsalam, is just a case. But still, we would accommodate him… with caution, though. He means no harm." But I guess he rewrote his own story.

Random musings of an overwhelmed multitasker

There are many times when I can hardly wait for Monday to arrive cos I know one of my 20 scheduled interesting blog posts will appear, people will love it, enjoy it, and comment on it, and I will be a star writer of blogsville.

There are other times I pray for Mondays not to come becasue I basically have nothing to write. Life is overwhelming, I can't think, so many struggles associated with being an adult, trying to make ends meet, and maintaining a certain standard of living. The whole head just blocks, and creative juices stop flowing. And that is where I am at right now.

It is at times like this that I pull stuff from my archives, and just post. But still, it doesn't get the real job done. The work of connecting to you followers on the same level you do on a normal day. Followers can see through these things, you know? They can tell when we are not really investing in writing something specially for them, when we are just throwing content at them. It shows in the number of comments that follow.

At this point, I need God to come through for me. I have so much work to do. Too many people I am leading, too many committees I am handling, too many tasks to complete, that I can hardly find time to live life as it should be lived. I just wish people won't drop the ball, so I don't have to start policing anyone. If God doesn't help me between now and December, I am done for.

Source

I have never worked in my life, like I have done in this year if 2014, and trust me when I say I work hard on a normal day. I can't wait to just take a break from all these, and just take a vacation. I didn't even have one this summer, but Christmas shall not pass me by.

This is probably the 'randomest' post I have ever written. I just didn't want to leave this space blank, or pull another article from my archives.

I'm out. Back to the ups and downs of all the work waiting for me.

Damn the Man!!!

Aite, people of blogsville. I've been so busy that I couldn't write for the blog in the past few weeks, so this week I decided to pull something out of my archives, in case you haven't read my second book. Someone asked me to write about feminism, so I just decided to do parody of one fiery post on feminism that a blogger posted two years ago. If you can guess the blogger, please don't let me know. I don't want to know that you know, lol. Anyway, enjoy.

Source

“Good day people, as we all know, my name is SheTalks. I welcome you to another episode of ControverShe, the number one TV program highlighting controversial issues and causes of women in our society.

On today’s episode, we have a very special guest with us. She is no stranger to you and I. Her name has been causing ripples in the headlines for the past one year. Her personality rhymes with the title of our program, ControverShe, as she is sure to always be found wherever controversy resides. Her best–selling book, Damn the Man, is everywhere. And the rate at which women of all types are rushing it is faster than a cascaded running prowess of Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake. I think I will term that Yosain Blolt effect. Yeah, so her book sells faster than Yosain can ever think of running in their life.

This makes me to wonder, if women are eating this book, Damn the Man, just like a greedy fat child gobbling up a slice of chocolate cake, can we then assume that this is what they have been waiting for all along? Can we say that they love this woman because she has been able to take the bold step, and voice what other women have wanted to voice all along, but stayed back due to the fear of whatever it is that might have been holding them back? Is this why she is seen to be the saviour of all women?

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I am sure by now, you already know who I am talking about. Join me as I welcome to the studio, no other lady but Miss Damiete Jamessssssss.”

The camera zooms in to show Miss Damiete James, who was spotting a denim jacket, baggy chinos trousers, with a face cap, that had ‘Damn the Man’ printed on it. She had no jewellery whatsoever on any part of her body.

A thunderous round of applause sounded in the studio. The audience was filled with people carrying placards of ‘Damn the Man’, ‘We love you Damiete’, ‘You are my hero’, ‘You are my goddess’, etc. Some even had Damiete’s name, face or ‘Damn the Man’, tattooed on different parts of their bodies.

SheTalks: Welcome to ControverShe, Miss Damiete James.

DJ: Thanks for inviting me SheTalks. And, please, call me DJ.

SheTalks: Alright DJ. Wow, imagine the show of such love and admiration from the crowd there, DJ. How do you feel when you see people get so excited when your name is mentioned?

DJ: Yes, I am always honoured to see people admiring me, but to be honest, I don’t see what big deal is. People get excited over people like President Obama all the time, and no one makes a big deal out of it. So, I see no reason why anyone should make a big deal out of mine. Is it because I am woman, and he is a man?

The audience’s excitement returns, to the point of being uncontrollable.

SheTalks: (Facing the audience) I know we all love DJ to the point of near-worship, but if we really want to enjoy this episode, we will have to calm down a bit, so we can really hear what she has to say to us. Thank you. (Turning back to DJ) Ooh, you have a point there DJ. But don’t you think it’s because they see you as their hero, the first vocal and unashamed feminist that has been able to penetrate the media, and achieve the enormous amount of things you have?

DJ: (Turning to the crowd) Hi ladies, please, if you feel yourself being overcome with excitement again, just follow my recommendation in Chapter 21 of Damn the Man, I am sure you remember it. (Facing the SheTalks) Yes, I believe that is it. But I am here to tell the women that they can do better than me, and achieve so much more, if only they would get up their butts, do what they have to do, and just ‘Damn the Man’.

Surprisingly, there was no single noise from the crowd. The view of the camera zooming in on the crowd was enough to explain the reason why. Everyone in the crowd had their mouth taped with a ‘Damn the Man’ tape.

SheTalks: Wow DJ, if a pin should drop here at this moment, we would hear it. Just a minute ago, the crowd could not be quietened, but now the whole place is as quiet as a graveyard. What exactly is in Chapter 21 of your book that you just asked them to do?

DJ: Well, in Chapter 21, I explained that many women like to chatter, overly display their emotions, get excited easily by men, thereby spitting meaningless mushy words, engage in useless and idle gossip, be hysteric, which is obviously true, as you saw them demonstrate here a few minutes ago, and some other useless stuff that mostly the non Damiete-trained women do. I explained that if they continued with these kinds of behaviour, they would not gain the respect of men. So what they should do is be emotionally closed like the man, act mature, and stop being excited at the every little sweet-nothing a man tells them, because that is what they are… Nothings! Also, if they feel they cannot suppress this negative emotion of theirs whenever they find themselves in situations that threaten to bring that embarrassing side of them out, they should just tape their mouths with the ‘Damn the Man’ tape, which as you can see in the audience now, is what they have done. It works like magic.

SheTalks: Wow, that is very interesting to hear. (Turning to the audience) Well, our audience and our viewers at home, we would be taking a commercial break now. When we come back, we will be finding out more about our guest, and her thoughts on feminism. Stay tuned to this channel, and don’t go anywhere.

Commercial Plays

Are you a woman who has been affected by the most poisonous hormone ever existing, called oestrogen? Does the second human specie, also known as males, look down on you like a lesser person because you have two things growing on anterior? Were you one of those unfortunate people whose grandmothers told that your whole existence is to please the man, and wait on him by living your life in the kitchen? Do you feel like you might have been brainwashed by a deceitful definition of happiness being something to be found in a man? Well, by now, I am sure you would have been getting restless, just having to listen to those hogwash fairy tales that were sold to you in times past.

Well, do not worry, a solution has come. I am here to let you know that you can just DAMN THE MAN! Find out how to undo the damage done to us by our grandmothers, find out how to live happily, by always being one step ahead of the man, find out how to make it in life without the help of a man, find out how to be a total ‘Damn the Man’ woman, and so much more, all in a copy of Damn the Man: The complete guide to being liberated from the lies our grandmother told us, by Damiete James.

End of commercial break

SheTalks: We welcome our audience and viewers at home back from the short break. If you are just joining us, it is sad to say that you have just missed a part of today’s episode of ControverShe, i.e. our interview with no other person but the author of the best-selling book, Damn the Man, by Damiete James. But nevertheless, we still have a whole lot more for you today (SheTalks turns to face to DJ).

A round of applause resounded from the audience. The Damn the Man tape was still firmly placed on their lips.

DJ: Thank you SheTalks.

SheTalks: So, DJ, what is your definition of feminism?

DJ: Feminism is the name used to describe a movement of people who are feminists or support feminism.

SheTalks: (Rolling her eyeballs, apparently expecting more from DJ) And… Who would you refer to as a feminist?

DJ: A feminist is anyone that is tired of these mistakes of a creature we call men, whether she is a professor, a market woman, a nun, or whoever. There are active and passive feminists. Active ones are the ones that take a vocal stand, and speak loudly about what we believe in, such as me. There are very few of us. And the passive ones are the rest, the ones who are tired of the other human specie and their crap, but too timid to voice it out, for whatever reason best known to them. In my opinion, most educated women in this country are feminists, but just don’t want to admit it, as they don’t want to be seen as chasing men away, or ridiculing their culture and traditions.  They like to have the advantage of being educated, and the benefit that comes along with it, but don’t want to regard themselves as feminists. (Turning to the audience) Well ladies, I have one word for you. As long as you are not going to allow one 65 year-old man marry your 13 year old daughter, as long as you like to buy your own clothes, own your bank account, spend your own money, marry whoever you like, study whatever you like, purchase whatever you like, then lady, you are a feminist! I repeat, YOU ARE A FEMINIST!!!

SheTalks: (Trying to adjust to the risen volume of DJ's voice) Well, that would mean we are all feminists.

DJ: Exactly my point. We are all feminists. What remains now is for us to complete our feminism process by being a proud ‘Damn the Man’ woman. A woman who is not afraid to stand up for her right and get out from under the umbrella of all the loser-men, a woman who is not afraid to stop hiding under the guise of ‘a woman should be submissive’, a woman that is not afraid to say ‘Damn the Man’.

SheTalks: Wow DJ, that is really strong. So apart from reading your book, Damn the Man, what else should women do to become a true ‘Damn the Man’ woman?

DJ: Let me tell you this SheTalks. Do you know that oestrogen is the number one cause of women’s damnation? I therefore recommend that every woman goes to my clinic, the ‘Damn the man’ clinic, which is located everywhere in the country, once a month to extract the oestrogen inside of her. This way, she would be able to get rid of all those hormones on the inside of her, which makes her do all the mushy stuff, and act with unreasonable maternal instinct, like choosing to live in an abusive home, because she wants to protect her children, choosing to love stupid male specie that are not worth loving, working all day for a lazy man to come and eat the fruit of her labour, dressing like a mentally imbalanced person exposing her body parts, just to attract a loser-man, and all other unreasonable things women do because of the oestrogen in them. So, woman, go to a ‘Damn the man’ clinic today, and get rid of that poisonous substance in you called oestrogen. Its existence in your blood is what drives you to do all these crazy stuff, and blame it on another deranged word, called ‘Love’. That is the only way to become a complete ‘Damn the Man’ woman.

SheTalks: (Looking dazed and confused) Thank you for all that DJ, and thanks for being our guest on today’s episode of ControverShe.

DJ: Thank you for having me SheTalks. (Turning to the audience) Alright ladies, I am done. You can remove the ‘Damn the Man’ tapes from your lips, and let the hero-worship continue.

Instantly, the crowd suddenly becomes noisy as everyone lets out their excitement again.

SheTalks: (With a shocked look on her face, and instantly having to raise her voice): Well, I wasn’t expecting that. We are calling it a wrap for this episode. Please, don’t forget to join us same time, same station, next week on your number one program, ControverShe, for another interesting time, and with another interesting and controversial guest. As usual, it promises to be great.

Show ends, commercial plays

Are you a woman who has been affected by the most poisonous hormone ever existing, called oestrogen? Does the second human specie, also known as males, look down on you like a lesser person because you have two things growing on anterior? Were you one of those unfortunate people whose grandmothers told that your whole existence is to please the man, and wait on him by living your life in the kitchen? Do you feel like you might have been brainwashed by a deceitful definition of happiness being something to be found in a man? Well, by now, I am sure you would have been getting restless, just having to listen to those hogwash fairy tales that were sold to you in times past.

Well, do not worry, a solution has come. I am here to let you know that you can just DAMN THE MAN! Find out how to undo the damage done to us by our grandmothers, find out how to live happily, by always being one step ahead of the man, find out how to make it in life without the help of a man, find out how to be a total ‘Damn the Man’ woman, and so much more, all in a copy of Damn the Man: The complete guide to being liberated from the lies our grandmother told us, by Damiete James.

Life is a Woman Breaking Eggs

Hi people. Great things are happening on Blogsville o. I'm sure y'all know we have another publisher in our midst. Like play like play, we are birthing so many celebs. What did you guys expect, is it easy to blog consistently for years, if one wasn't intelligent?

It is none other than our own Adura Ojo of Naijalines. First, I must say a big congrats to her. She recently published her book, Life is a Woman Breaking Eggs. I got the opportunity to interview her, and it was quite interesting, albeit, short. Read on.

What inspired you to write this book?

I was at a point in my life’s journey where I wanted ‘useful luggage’ I could take forward. I work in mental health where you meet people at their lowest ebb. It puts life into perspective and as a result, one is thankful.

Summarize your book in a sentence

The life journal of a middle aged woman

Why do you think that this book will appeal to readers?

I wrote this collection for poetry lovers as well as non-poetry lovers. The simplicity of language should appeal to people who do not normally enjoy reading poetry. Poetry lovers would enjoy the depth of imagery and thematic structure.

What makes your book different from other books like it?

What is unique about this collection is its flexibility. Some poems are in narrative form. Some are theatrical – Poems like “The Broom”, “Nagging Area”, “This Land,“ Owu Rubutu”, “Sisi” and “African Queen” can be dramatized on stage or performed as spoken poetry. The poems are also fine in their own skin as just poems. They will work across a variety of forms. I would like to see the collection performed as a stage production. Many poets are increasingly doing this, particularly across Europe and the US. It’s a great way of the getting the reading public engaged in poetry again.

Is there a particular poem from your book you’d like share with readers?

I think your readers would enjoy this one, Atilola.

Owu Rubutu

Time to dance, Owu Rubutu
dance the dance of spirits old
grab your shoes, let’s dance
the dance of bata
hips so swell, beads to the beat
gladly hit feet bouncing in heat
dance in the light of darkness
like the deaf lady and her best kept script
rhythm of beads heard, unseen
black beads, red beads
feet and hips the way beads sway
dance for me, Owu Rubutu

What tips would you give other writers thinking of putting together a poetry collection?
• Try to write a poem a day. Let your poems ‘breathe.’
• Edit but don’t over-edit.
• Join a poetry group (online or community)
• Take part in poetry writing challenges to hone your craft
• Decide whether you want a publisher or want to self-publish. Research the pros and cons and make             your choice.
• Publish when you’re ready. Make sure you’re confident enough with your material to put your work
        out there.

What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a novel about an older woman and a younger man. I’m also working on my second poetry collection.

Where can readers find your book?
My book is available on Amazon. I’m working on getting it to other platforms including Nigerian platforms.

Thanks for the interview Adura.
It’s been a pleasure. Thanks for having me, Atilola.

Read a little bit about Adura below.

Adura Ojo is a British-Nigerian author, poet, blogger and a mother of two. She is the author of Life is a Woman Breaking Eggs, her debut poetry collection. She graduated in English Studies at the University of Ibadan. She later bagged degrees in Law and Social Work in the UK. She has professional experience in varied employment roles as lecturer, trainer and mental health practitioner. Her poems have been published in Sentinel Champions, Sentinel Nigeria, The Poetic Pinup Revue, and a number of websites. She lives in the UK where she is currently working on her debut novel and a second poetry collection.

Follow Adura Ojo:

‘Like’ her author page: https://www.facebook.com/aduraojoauthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aduraojo
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AduraOjo
Blogger: http://adura-ojo.blogspot.co.uk/

Blogger is exposing anonymous bloggers

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If you signed up for email notification, which almost every blogger does, due to convenience, this might concern you. Email notification is the service that allows you to receive comments dropped on your blog posts, in your email, so you don’t have to go to your blog to see new comments. Makes real sense, right?
Well, about a month ago, I realised that whenever I replied to someone’s comment on my blog, rather that deliver to my email, as an email notification, it would send a message saying the message couldn’t be delivered to the blogger, i.e. me, and add the blogger’s email address it was supposed to deliver to. But I never had issues when people dropped comments on my blog, I still received their comments in my email. I want to believe they were receiving the failure notification, since they were the ones dropping the comments, even though I was receiving their comments. And here is why.

Last week, I started receiving these failure notifications when I dropped comments on the posts of some bloggers. Not a big deal, right? Since they were seeing my comments. Well, not really! Remember the notification will tell you the exact email address it failed to deliver to. This means if you had used your personal email account to receive notifications, I can see your email address.

So there’s this anonymous blogger whose blog I dropped a comment on, and I saw her real name included in the email notification failure. The good thing is, she is actually my friend in real life, as many bloggers have come to be, so I know her real name, but what of other bloggers that did not know her?

Let us take Cherrywine for example. Her real name is Chika Eze, she has real life friends on blogger, who are also anonymous, but they don’t know her particular blog, and she doesn’t know theirs. They drop a comment on her blog, and suddenly they receive a notification that their comment couldn’t be delivered to chikaeze@yahoo.com. Then they go “wow, so Chika is cherrywine.” All your years of anonymity gone, just like that, poof! And if you are a scandalous blogger who likes forming holy in real life, you will gaaaannn explain to your pastor why you like sleeping with married men for money.

So where am I going with this? If you are an anonymous blogger, you are not so anonymous at the moment. The solution is to either sign off the email notification service, or change the email with which you receive comments to something completely vague like youshouldmindyourbusiness@yahoo.com, but you will have to create such a vague email address sha. That way, no one will know your real name, when they get the failure notification.

As for me, I have nothing to worry about since I am not anonymous. I just did my own bit, since most of you already see me as the blogger police, lol. I gotta protect the lives and properties of my fellow blogsville community members.

You are what is wrong with Marriage

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If you keep asking your daughter every day, “so when are you bringing him home?” you are what is wrong with marriage.

If you keep pressuring single ladies with statements like “so when are we eating the rice?” you are what is wrong with marriage.

If you keep asking your 33 year old single friend or cousin “when are we wearing aso ebi?” you are what is wrong with marriage.

If you keep telling your daughter to hurry up, because most of your friends’ daughters are already married, you are what is wrong with marriage.

If a lady comes to you for advice because her fiancée/boyfriend is abusive in anyway, and you tell her to grow up, and count herself lucky because she has a man who is even interested with her, you are what is wrong with marriage.

Marital status is not a social status.

Singleness is a state, not a disease, so don't rush or pressure single women into marriage, and treat them like something is wrong with them.

When they react to your pressure, and get married to the wrong person, you will be nowhere to be found when the bubble bursts.

The marriage is about the person, not you. We know you are itching to join the AWMD (Association of Women with Married Daughters). We know you can't wait to attend one more wedding, but why should that single lady suffer for your desires. Are you so party-starved that you can't afford to wait? The wedding you so much want to attend will last just a few hours, while her marriage will last a life time. Let her think straight while making her choice. Your pressure and snide remarks are not allowing her to do that.

Stop pressuring single ladies. Stop asking them for wedding rice. If you are hungry, go and cook your own. Stop asking to wear useless Aso Ebi. That tradition should even be banned; it’s been abused for way too long. Also, you already have enough in your wardrobe. Stop passing snide comments to single ladies, or asking stupid questions. Stop it! Most of them want to get married, so they don't need you to remind them with your indirect questions. Stop contributing to what is wrong with marriage today.

Atilola Moronfolu

Source

P.S: I shared this post as a status update on Facebook last week. It went viral. I could hardly believe it. Almost 100 shares (from male and female), and counting. I guess I articulated the thoughts on the hearts of many single ladies.

"I'm Nigerian, therefore I'm inferior."

I spoke to a first-time customer last week. After concluding our sales agreement, she later calls me and asks why I haven't responded to her message. I apologise, saying we are in the middle of production, so I can't text now.

She says “wait, are those products made in Nigeria?”

And I say “yes”. I then go on blabbing about the delivery arrangement and a natural hair salon.

And she says “you know what? Now that I just found out they are manufactured in Nigeria, I'm not sure anymore.”

I'm like “you are not sure about what?”

She says “I've lost confidence in the products.”

I’m like “because they are manufactured in Nigeria?”

She says “I'm sure you understand.”

I reply saying “No, I don't understand.”

I then give her a long lecture of how many natural hair products company make use of raw materials found in Africa, but we refuse to buy those same products if they are made in Africa. I told her I can understand if she loses confidence in our products because they are not working well or it damaged someone's hair, but I can't understand why she would lose confidence because of the location of production. I said Unilever Nigeria’s products are as good as Unilever France's products. It’s not about the location, but about the standards. African Naturalistas has come a long way. Right from the days we were using paper stickers and buying plastics at Gbadebo market, we are where we are now. I'm sure if we were not good, we won't have come this far, this fast. I even went ahead to ask her if she's inferior to people in America, just because she lives in Nigeria, lol.

It’s sad to think that some Nigerians lose confidence in a product, just based on the fact that it is made in Nigeria, and not based on what the product can do. How then will our economy grow to match that of the country we love to buy our products from? How then will we encourage new businesses to start? Let the pictorial evidence below tell you by themselves how long we have come.

I am glad that at the end of the day, I was able to convince her that she had nothing to worry about. But what about the thousands of people who think like she had been thinking, whom I don't have access to convincing? What about them?

Sad indeed.