This blog was my resting place. Somewhere I came to rant, share and learn. I have met so many people in the blogosphere and I am so thankful I started this. My writing has evolved positively and I am literally still figuring things out.
A while ago, I took the leap and finally got self-hosted. I know a lot of people say blogs are dying. Maybe they are, maybe they are not. What I am eternally sure of is that I still love blogs and blogging.Read More »
I purchased The Pressure Cooker at a time I thought it would be a good idea to splurge on books, and the hype Roving Heights gave to this book was oppressing me.
After purchasing it at 3800 Naira, when I picked it up, I thought, ‘Is this all? It’s so small.’ It’s about 110 pages with medium font size. However, when I read this book, I was reminded that judging a book by its looks isn’t always the best thing.
The Pressure Cooker by Nkiru Olumide-Ojo centres on women at work. It helps us understand a bit more, the pressure that is still in existence for women who want to ‘have it all’. It brings to light the beauty of collaboration over competition and why and when it could be absolutely fine for me to openly and blatantly support a woman because she is a woman.
I was drawn to How Intelligence Kills while book shopping in Roving Heights and it stands as the book with the most interesting title that I own. I vaguely remembered the author as the Okada books cum Bella Naija columnist-with-the-funny-picture guy, and I thought, well, why not?
Before we go all in… How have you been? Have you graduated? Got married? New job? What’s new? Do tell me in the comments!
The title, How Intelligence Kills, is quite extra and seems clickbait laden, right? That’s what I thought too. Honestly, that was my only reason for purchase. The sub-title of this book is ‘Our Dangerous Addiction to Respect, Religion, Intelligence and lots more’. Dangerous is actually right, and Ofili explains why using his everyday experiences as a child to his near-miss plane crash.
As an ever-hopeful believer in my country, Nigeria, this book brought to light some issues that, I have to admit, were difficult for me to comprehend, let alone accept. I was amazed at the depth of intelligence within the pages of this book. First off, a large part of success involves accepting your flaws. He tells hard truths that other people would shy away from and these are some which you and I should admit here and now;
We Don’t Actually Know What the Aso Rock Presidential Villa Looks Like
A recent video posted by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (CNA) shows off her dance skills. You never thought you’d see the day, right? It was five seconds long but served as the final assurance that the Half Of A Yellow Sun author is my twin. I mean, she can’t dance to save her life, just like me!
The first time I came across this brilliant author was through friends reading a purple-covered book she wrote, aptly named Purple Hibiscus, for the Literature-In-English WAEC (West African Examination Council) paper. This book piqued my interest because unlike Sizwe Bansi Is Dead and Tempest, it made the rounds with students who didn’t offer the subject. However, I didn’t join the movement at the time, but I knew it was a good book.
Almost ten years later, I have bought Purple Hibiscus three times and I just concluded reading The Thing Around Your Neck. While reading this book, I finally realized that our Aunty Chimamanda, currently recognized worldwide for her vociferous stance on feminism, is ultimatelythe enigmatic Nigerian.
She is a representation of a potent version of the Nigerian dream. Born and bred in Eastern Nigeria, she moved to the USA at age 19 to further her studies. She understands and speaks the Igbo language fluently but still has a bank of knowledge of the abroad as is evident in her writing. Her accent is distinct, style of writing and fashion, impeccable.
A controversial being, CNA is known for her stringent stance on various issues, ranging from etiquette to fashion to feminism. I am a feminist and I probably always have been. I do agree that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie brought the word to my consciousness as can be seen read. However, I have a gained other life tenets from her which are paramount to living a fulfilling life. Here are two of them;
Happy New Quarter! Have you ever felt utterly unprepared for a coming year? On my end, 2019 was that year. I mean, I saw it coming, but for the first time in years, I had no real goals.
Zilch. Nada. None.
I would usually have a yearly recap on the blog as I did in 2016 and 2017, a list of resolutions and an all-around attitude of badassery coming into the New Year.
This time, the year came in without the usual whoosh. I had no feelings towards this year and it actually sucked. It is amazing that the initial quarter is over. The world has seen a ton of happenings: elections, earthquakes, births, collapsed buildings, among others and, as individuals, we have had our fair share of dealings.
Looking back, I have had a relatively eventful first 90 days, and as a lover of stories and their telling, here’s how they unfolded:
It is one week to the General Elections in Nigeria and I write all words here with anger- not righteous anger- just plain old pure, Nigerian anger. The kind that makes you surprised that you’re angry. The kind that leads you to shout at the bus conductor who expects you to let your 20 Naira change go although he would never do the same for you. That, which seeps in from time to time, leaving you more confused.
I am a very patriotic Nigerian- there, I said it.
No matter what has happened, from utterly useless regimes to even stupider laws, I consciously chose to keep believing, to defend when deemed necessary. Over time, like the incident involving the Chibok girls, I did have my moments of hopelessness, but I never, ever thought of giving up on my country.
So when the time came for me to get my Voter’s card, I missed my first opportunity when I was 19 years old, but I swore that nothing would stop me next time. I thought, I must vote next time, no matter what! So, four years later, I sought to get it.
This took me two attempts- 3 hours in Delta State and 11 hours in Lagos State.
First, in April 2018, during my internship in Delta, I took some hours off from work to get it from the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC). I got there at 9am and left at 12pm…without the card. Why?
Well, this was partly my fault. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to vote in Delta so I decided that after getting it here I would transfer to Lagos. When it was my turn to be attended to, I explained the situation to the INEC official who said that I won’t be able to transfer until after the elections. I should have asked earlier instead of wasting the time I did. ( Ps. I don’t understand why I can’t vote anywhere in Nigeria, but specifically where I registered! This is definitely the dumbest policy I have ever come across.)
I was left stunned, wondering why things have to be so darned complicated in this country. I mean, the whole point of this card is to vote, so why would I want it transferred after the elections? I resolved to get it when I got back to Lagos.
I was finally able to go to the Amuwo-Odofin INEC Office when I got back. I got there at 6:37am, wrote my name on the ‘list’ (which was rather pointless) where I was number 143 and finally got the Temporary Voters Card at about 5:36pm. The tales of what happened in these 11 hours are the crux of this story.
We can all agree that self-confidence is essential to living a fulfilled life, but life really sucks sometimes and we lose it, bigtime! Does this mean we are losing at life?
When people talked about being self-conscious as teenagers, I just didn’t get it. I didn’t have great skin or look good, I was skinny with ‘rashes’ on my face with medium-length hair, but I didn’t care. Academically, I was doing well-ish.
My point is, I was your average girl, just swimming in the middle of the masses.
So, the concept of self-confidence was like Greek. It was beautiful, but incomprehensible to me.
I didn’t quite get why having acne or being fat or skinny would make someone feel bad about themselves, I just thought, it is not that deep, biko.
Fast forward years later, I finally struggled with the issue.
In 2016 and early in 2017, I felt rather bleh without even realizing so, until afterwards. My parents noticed, and asked me if I was depressed (I probably was, but I said no multiple times, of course).
I was going through a thoroughly disheartening emotional time which infiltrated my physical. I don’t even know how or from whence it came.
For a while, I felt ugly.
Oh yes, like a face-rash-ridden-skinny-ugly-somebody. To make it worse, my previously thriving hair refused to keep growing. It was around this time that I finally had to come to terms with the fact that I could not have a first class degree after wanting it for so long and I messed up two important relationships.
Moving to 2018, I went through a second bout of this dearth of self-confidence, but due to physical reasons. I used a skincare product that left me with a really bad facial allergic reaction and the uglyfeeling came back, even worse.
I was angry, ashamed, in despair; you name it, I felt it. Eventually, I came to realize that I needed to go through that, and quite honestly, I believe you need it too. Well, your own version though.