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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…
Recent posts

September 23, Age 23

I have been called a lot of things; ‘weird’, ‘real’, ‘cynical’, ‘kind’, ‘beautiful’, ’impatient’, ‘good’, ‘mean’, ‘free’ and ‘quiet’. 
There’s a lot more, but that’d take up a lot of space (bet you get the idea).
And over the years, while some of these things momentarily defined me, might still try to even, I know that is not the case. This is because I have gradually come to the understanding that people will just drop words or phrases of who they think you are. Or better still who they might want you to be, to them_ I don’t know why humans do this, but we do.

No denying some of those words make up the person that I am but in my gradual process of self-awareness and understanding I have learnt so far that I cannot dwell on those adjectives to determine who I am.

Of course, this might come as a string of blah blahs and yapping, but I have had myself, my body and soul for 23 years and I can say boldly that no one has the right to define me or anyone else for that matter.

This is not t…

When my answers come

Life was designed to last once for every individual and as much as that sucks, it is true. We roam through life trying to figure out the true essence of existence and while that urge might be higher in some, it is lower for others. 

I mean, who cares about all of the serious stuff in life right? Roll up some weed, light it, smoke up some dose of daily conviction. Look forward to a what could be a better alternative for essence.
Truth be told, every single one of us humans on the surface of Earth, have that moment. A time when probably in a car driving to work, amid the endless news on the radio, it hits you- the realization of something beyond every individual you pass by on the streets, every nod you get in response to your greeting, every shade of pupils you've stared into.

And yeah, while some might boldly step out and share in an engaging tone, how, they realized, once, years back, the X, Y, Z, that led to making a significant decision in their lives, I sit there and wonder. I wo…

SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN

seven minutes in heaven;
seven minutes counting
heart beats by the second.
six minutes in heaven;
all the while tapping feet
on shaky wooden floorboards
in nervous delight.

five minutes in heaven;
five minutes counting
down to reality:
a beastly, slimy one.
four minutes in heaven;
wondering if by chance
or luck or grace,
a glimpse of an angel
 would suffice.

three minutes in heaven,
and lo a ladybird atop
your nose tickles,
dances, wiggles, jiggles,
then away,  flies.
two minutes in heaven,
two minutes or the next,
daydreams finally might come
to be:
visions of sunny skies,
silly side aching laughs_
chocolatey gums,
all on display
for my ever aching eyes.

a minute left in heaven
the last, the longest,
the shortest it seems,
the last before you wake
and stare at
the computer screen
in a crowded
noisy bureau,
someplace.

you sigh.
"of course it was unreal."

Grace Oluchi Okogwu

 meme si mes yeuxs me pique, je vois

MARY DOES NOT KNOW

September1       September ushered in the last of the rains;  the kind that fell noiselessly and without the fierce winds like in May and June. 

May 17        May was when I saw it, the fierce eyes of Soluja the mad man. it had been a cloudy day, one where, the blackness of the cloud thickened, breaking up now and then with thunder and lightening, darkening my mood like charcoal.
       i was sitting by the window of the moving bus, lost in thought, what people refer to as being "absent minded," when my eyes met the mad man's. i'd expected to meet a blank expression but what my eyes saw were alert pupils; pointy unblinking eyes  with an air of artistic craziness. almost as if he could see through my fears, past my boldness to dare stare at him. he could see all of my secrets and those eyes,  still haunt me till this day...  

June 5           if i turned, she would definitely know i was staring at her and i wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of being admired. low…

SATURDAY SAD TALES

It was impossible to completely assimilate what Richard was going on about; what the group of umunna’s scattered around our sitting room were going on about. The only two words that had registered in my mind were, “new” and “wife”, and I wasn’t even upset. Hadn’t I seen this coming? Hadn’t my instincts warned me? My vicious mother-in-law from the start, threatened?No, I wasn’t upset; I was completely slapped across the face with surprise. I thought finally Richard and I were fine, that we were gone past the rocky months in our marriage. He’d been smiling more often the past few weeks. He told me just last week how much he loved me: with his eyes, like he did the first day he saw me, that day at the Customer Service room in the First Bank Headquarters of Nsukka, on the chilly day of December 4th .

Richard’s eyes were what Professor Agu¸our Classical English literature final year professor described as “sorrowful but intense; the kind of eyes that draws you in to want to know more...” he…

i still love you