Random Thoughts Of The Lady Next Door

One of my preoccupations lately has been on making deliberate efforts to demystify sex and conversations around sexuality, especially as a Nigerian female. Having a somewhat conservative background though, my outspokenness about this in recent months has drawn several jaw-drop reactions from friends and family.  But I see the double standards that the society play by, treating male sexual gratification as an absolute necessity, even inventing and sponsoring myths, such as the idea of blue balls and its injurious factor to men's health, whilst at the same time stifling every conversation that has to do with female sexuality.  How about we start from exposing the HUSH-HUSH CONSPIRACY, the one that declares free and open sexual discussions by and amongst ladies near-taboo? While an adolescent male who talks about sex may be  regarded as merely discovering his sexuality and adjusting to adulthood, his female counterpart who does same will not enjoy such understanding. She'll ...

The key to the main door leading to the house had been missing for three days.  Attendant with the frantic search that followed was paranoia (that an intruder must have somehow appropriated it for breaking in and making away with our possessions at a later time); heated arguments (because my gramps was convinced without any proof whatsoever that it was I who misplaced the key, and I was having none of it 🙄), and constant prayers by Granny concerning the issue. On the morning of the first day after the key disappeared, out of the many prayer requests that Granny offered, I specifically heard her ask that the location of the key be revealed, and that God should restore the relationship between Gramps and I.  I on the other hand was indifferent, had somehow given up on finding the key, and was already thinking of how to take out the entire door handle with the lock for replacement. Two days later in the midnight, I had a dream. In that dream, I saw the missing key at the living-...

I received a friend request from someone who used to be a very close and dear female friend. I smiled with derision, wondering what she wanted with me now. I was however careful not to delete the request like I did most others before and after hers.  Our friendship had been only a couple of months shy of clocking a decade. We had been counting proudly in the previous years.  "We" consisted this female friend, I, and my best friend. We loved to call ourselves the three musketeers.  Well, this particular musketeer began to keep her distance after some time, kept a lot of secrets from the rest of us and most times refused to pick our calls or return them.  I grew tired of reaching out to someone who clearly didn't want to be reached. In fairness though, she wasn't doing that to just us, but to others as well.  But then I thought, even if she does that to other people, can't she trust us her friends of many years enough to talk to us, whatever the problem might be? ...

Remember Jesus' Great Commission? That we "go and make disciples of all the nations, BAPTIZING them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit." Remember the 3000 that were saved on Pentecost? They were baptized on the SAME DAY they accepted Christ.  What of the Ethiopian eunuch on his way home from Jerusalem, and the Philippian jailer in charge of Paul and Silas' cell? Both were baptized on the same day they accepted Christ; on the same spot even, in the case of the latter.  I have been born again since 2008, have rededicated my life to Christ several times after that, yet, all the churches I've ever been to either ignore this commission of having their members baptized, or will not baptize them until they've been made to go through 'baptismal class'es where they are spoonfed nothing but doctrinal sentiments (IMO). So this is a very bothered believer asking-- why the "senrenren"? Why complicate a simple instruction? Whatever h...

I saw a Facebook post bashing folks who subtly try to deflect from the single chance fathers get in a year to be celebrated by conferring the privilege on women as well (mothers who get uncountable appreciation days in a year oh 🤷🏽‍). I actually agreed with the post. Still do.  I'm of the school of thought that it's really asinine to not only try to steal other people's shine on their day, but to also, as a woman, wish oneself happy Father's day, or to wish one's mother happy Father's day. This new fad is hurting my brain really. I can't understand it.  Your father is deadbeat? Simply leave him out of the celebration.  And if you're feeling super vindictive, how about writing a long lovely epistle to celebrate your mother on Mother's Day (which I bet is around the corner. Isn't it held every other week? 😁😁) to "pepper" him.  Well, shortly after I read the earlier mentioned Facebook post, I saw my friend, a dearly loved friend, wish ...

Mother loved him.  Everyone did.  He was adorable. He still is. 😊 So when I told her I had called it quits with him, she could barely mask her mild disappointment.  She asked me, "so what were you looking at for 4 years, that you didn't think to end it at the beginning, only to do so now?" And then, amused, I asked her, "it's called courtship, right? What exactly is courtship for?" She understood.  You see, she had momentarily forgotten, like most of us, that not all courtships must lead to marriage. And that, a dissolved courtship is NOT a failed courtship. Rather, it is a successful one.  Isn't it folly to see intolerable traits in our partners and go ahead into matrimony with them because we think that love will conquer ALL? We need to stop putting pressure on our friends and families to get married to their current partners by all means and at any cost. The pressure is insanely much, especially on women, to spin lousy relationships into happily-ever...

I wasn't sure how to respond when my granny and aunt took advantage of a light discussion bordering on sex to ask whether or not I was still a virgin.  You see, no matter how woke, liberal and unpretentious about your sexuality you think you are, there's something about the way they ask -- "I TRUST MY DAMOLA NOW, you're still a virgin, aren't you? -- that makes you want to shrink into your shoes.  You answer yes - they hang on to your facial expression after that, watching for the slightest twitch in your face. But how does one keep a straight face in this situation? You answer yes too slow (because of the time it takes you to recover from the initial shock of the question) - "She's probably lying. Or why the hesitation?" You try sarcasm, go woke on them and ask why your virginity should be a subject of discussion in the midst of other trending world issues and innovations in arts and sciences - "Na guilty conscience dey worry am. Or why take a s...

"Hi." I waited for the stranger to say something more. To introduce himself, at least. Nothing. Thirty minutes passed.  I typed back reluctantly. "Hi" "Evening." What sort of annoying time waster is this? I have only little patience for people with zero communication finesse. "You are?" And only then did he give his name and purpose of reaching out - Got my number from Facebook. Wanted to follow up on religion. Was a sinner who wanted to change.  Hol'up. I didn't leave my number on Facebook. "You may be talking to the wrong person," I replied with hesitation, a part of me feeling guilty for attempting to turn away a soul probably sent to me by God. I didn't tell him I thought he was a scammer. I only told him I didn't leave my number on Facebook.  "Really... Sorry. Instagram" I laughed, now free from guilt. I hadn't left my number on Instagram either! This one wasn't interested in knowing God. He was a ...

First, they break your boundaries and get up close and personal.  Then they leverage on the closeness with attempts to erode your standards, your scruples. And as you remain unwavering in your bias, your depth visibly exposing their shallowness, They turn on you, make you seem as though you're the one with the problem.  You're "too" uptight. You're "too" strict. You need to loosen up a bit.  By this, they mean, "don't get mad at my lewd jokes on you" "Don't be so petty." That is, "suck it up when I behave selfishly. Be the bigger person." They're quick with the words of advice. Friends who don't consider your opinions worth a penny.  You'll realize one day that you need to distance yourself from these people.  But the seeds they have stealthily but diligently sown will manifest now.  Your own mind will echo their words "You're just stiff-necked and proud and petty and uptight and averse to the ...

There's a way we romanticize negativity that bemuses me. I'm talking about sickness, depression, spiritual attacks and so on. Maybe because we love to be pitied. Or because we enjoy the attention, (and we know that) for people who don't have a lot going on in their lives, or who are just plain narcissists, any form of attention is welcome.  It didn't start today though. Remember that time in primary school when all you had was a small cut on your big toe, but you nearly robed your entire body in gauze and limped for a whole month?  And that time in secondary when you claimed to have asthma, when all you really had was a penchant for drama and spotlight.  A lot of times in the past, especially last year, whenever I went for days without putting any literary material out, either articles or poetry, I felt empty, like a failure. Couple this with me experiencing slow business, and brokeness to top all of that, I soon became "depressed." To make matters worse, ever...

The proprietor of the company where I'm currently undergoing my IT training took a long look at me. "Are you sure it's Web Development you're here to learn, or Graphic Designing?" Well, female isn't equal dumb. I can't always be bothered when people dumbly forget this. "Web Development, sir" Still, to this day, he seems to think I'll be better off tagging along with him and some other staff members to business outings, rather than staying back to learn and practice what I paid for. He doesn't know that I'm not here to play. 😂 Again, I'm not offended, and besides, that's just by the way.  Now here's the real gist.  Every day on my way to this training, I encounter a group of semi-uniformed men (and a woman or two) of the police force. Their battered van, parked on one side of the busy road, always, ALWAYS has a disgruntled male civilian at the back. You're in soup if you so much as have a fine ride with a fine face to ...

It is required that you aspire to respire so that you will not expire. And in order not to be retired or lose your fire, you must be rewired and re...(how do I even end this?)  People wey sabi will laugh at this post. I would too.  It's so typical. Almost to the point of  irritation.  Hopefully, our preachers will learn something from this. It is counterproductive to try firing your members up with these overused lines.  Unless you're not interested in taking the educated and enlightened members of your congregation with you to heaven (because they will zone out, leaving your message defeated), then you can continue to impress the ones with average brains with your rhymes.  Yes, an awful lot of times it's not Rhema. It's just a really tight Rhyme. 😅😂 11.02.19

Ladiesss, not every time macho!  We stoop to conquer sometimes.  We must lose some battles to win some wars.  We must lose some arguments to save our relationships. We must drop our ego sometimes to give love a chance.  It's hard, really hard, I know. In this contemporary society, we are perpetually faced with situations where we must prove ourselves, guard ourselves. Where we must be on the offensive, against toxic masculinity, denigration, abuse in all its forms, including emotional.  But there comes a time when we must be soft, when we must buckle and let love have its way.  Especially when the only thing at stake is our ego Knowing how and when to do this - therein lies true strength. Good morning!  PS: This message applies to men as well. 09.02.18

There was a point in my life, last year precisely, when I couldn't stand supporters of President Muhammadu Buhari. I disdained him and his supporters with the same amount of passion with which I rooted for him in 2015. Whenever anyone spoke in favour of Buhari last year, the person immediately would begin to take the shape of a wild goat in my subconscious.  "Freaking Buharist" was my alias for them.  Fast forward to December 2019 upon reconnecting with my family, you have no idea how surprised I was to realize that I was surrounded by Freaking Buharists. Down to my grandfather, and even to my favorite uncle!  I don't particularly care about the opposition candidate. I don't like him any more than I like Buhari. And so when my family come up with three reasons why the incumbent president should be allowed to go for another term, I don't have any strong argument against him.  An argument against him is as good as an argument FOR the opposition. And by oppositio...

Yup, you read that correctly. That's my million-dollar advice on how to get over that silly crush you have on him (insert 'HER' or other feminine pronouns/nouns from here on out if you're a man) especially when you know you shouldn't be harbouring such feelings for whatever reason. Don't argue yet. Just follow me as I share these practical tips.  1. Do not wait for your him to chase you. Do the chasing. By this, I mean ASK HIM ON A DATE. Yes you, young lady. Pick up your phone and ask him if he's free to hang out- or are you not the one seeking a solution? 😏 The move is yours to make, come on.   Fixed a date? Now at the venue? OK. Now's the time to administer the juice in your medulla 😂. Remember, you're not there to fall/bask in love, you're there to fall out of love. So while you may swoon over the perfect cupid's bow of his upper lips, or fantasize about him your knight in shining armour rescuing you his damsel in distress from the sharp...

As soon as I returned home after graduating from the university, my biggest concern was to go learn how to drive a car. But my father wouldn't hear of it. He advised (I should quickly mention that my dad's best advise hardly comes off as one. It feels like meddlesome opinion and dictatorship because of his strong personality... Almost bossy) that I go to a "computer school" and get trained to be computer literate.  I didn't take him seriously at all. Was he expecting me to go learn how to type A-S-D-F-column-L-K-J-H, or learn how to use MS-Word and Excel, with my level of exposure, and after owning a laptop and typing my entire undergraduate project by myself?  That's how I scoffed until three months passed inbetween my convocation and NYSC mobilization. Wasted.  I have noticed that we the younger generation often assume that the best thing to acquire during our youth is wealth, or "financial security." Financial security is in quote because we forge...

Oh, I do my best, to be good, to be the perfect role model to the few who look up to me, to do and say only the right things. And admittedly, it feels godly and good being--or acting--that way for a few days, or weeks at most, until it all becomes so boring.  I've had enough of my prissy modesty. I think I can be more. I'm done with the performance (whether you realize it or not) that comes with it. I'd rather just be humble.  You see,  the moment I discovered for myself the slight difference in the meaning of the words "humility" and "modesty," my hyperinquisitive soul found rest. I found out that whereas humility in its purest expression is me recognizing and acknowledging my areas of weakness and strength, not giving excuses for my inadequacies or throwing a pity party over my misfortunes, and definitely not underestimating my virtues and value, modesty in its truest manifestation demands that I identify with others by underplaying my qualities.  Amer...

I burst out from the passageway inbetween the fashion section of the market onto the mainroad. I stood moping for a while, carrying my big yellow shopping bag and looking like a JJC. But I wasn't. I was in fact a youth corps member due to round off service in a few weeks, but was as broke as anything; and hungry too. So I tried to decide whether to use the meager amount on me to satisfy my week-long craving, a plate of delicious local meal at a fine restaurant 10 minutes walk away (because I wouldn't be able to afford a bike fare), or to use the money to cook myself a modest meal instead (of course I knew I wouldn't. I was only pretending to think like a responsible young lady). But I didn't have to stay too long in my dilemma, for I soon sighted a young woman selling boiled maize from a wheel barrow. I could always stop at the restaurant later, or cook myself a meal later, but maize was already going out of season and before long I wouldn't see fresh ones again. So...

There are people you should not love-- They defy every standard you have set for normal people They are not your kind of humble They do not care to impress you Do not care for your definition of success Do not want to LOOK spiritual All they know how to do is to rattle your benumbed minds You are uncomfortable about identifying with them So, like Nicodemus, you seek them out only at nights They do not bear their husbands' surnames-- such arrogance! But you rush to news sites bearing tales of their latest feats They are divorced, what wisdom can come out of such people? Yet you rush to buy early bird tickets to attend their seminars, before the discount window shuts against you They do not care about your ideals The dainty little boxes of perfection you've got carved out in your heads To place your most loved personalities in They don't care for you to love them And truly, you don't love them You can't love them Your religiosity will not permit you Your judgemental a...

Just this morning, I was telling babe about my last phone conversation with my dear dad (in which we had spent well over an hour making small talk and I had still been reluctant to let him go after everything). I didn't even know yet that today is International Men's Day. Anyone who knows me very closely would know the kind of ugly situation that nearly severed the relationship between my dad and I a few years ago. But here we are today, he's the best thing that has ever happened to me, besides babe of course. 😍 Anyways, I was recounting to babe and reliving how dad had said that he has always known me to be outspoken with strong opinions, especially as a kid, but that some of the issues I faced during my formative years growing into adulthood got me cowered a lot. And that even though I often put up this front of nonfuckery (pardon my expression, no other word could do better justice), he sees behind it all, and knows that mine is really still a fledgling intrepidness.  T...

So I returned from the market this afternoon and decided to rest a bit before facing another major task waiting for me. Someone started knocking on my door. It was a loud, impatient knock (more like hitting the door).  I was so startled I actually jumped. I got pissed. "Ah ahhn, who is that!" I snapped. I live in a lodge inside the school, and occasionally, a boarding student would lose his manners and bang my door as though it was he who put me in the apartment. I was ready to deal with whoever that student was.  "It is me." It was the gatekeeper, a short, middle-aged man. I didn't dislike him. I didn't like him either. But now he was getting my goat.  "Wait, I'm coming."  I didn't add 'please.' I was that pissed. I got up and wore a dress. I had been mostly naked. When I opened the door, I found him standing there, exuding haughtiness (that posture surprised me, although I would later come to understand why).  I pushed my irritati...

Maybe not every time men versus women. Maybe my relationship where my SO cooks for both of us is not necessarily better and sweeter than my friend's, where she 'slaves' in the kitchen to feed herself and a grown-ass man. Maybe we've been relegated for so long, to the kitchen and the other room, that now that we're bouncing out in self-awareness and confidence, we're bouncing off the mark and over the bar. Missing the point more than we are making a point.  Maybe there are really no hard and fast rules to relationships, and popular concessions on how women should be treated in their relationships only end on the social media.  After starting crusades on here sensitizing parents on the need to train their male children to cook and clean up after themselves, and after touting our intolerance for men who can't lift a finger to serve themselves, we log out, unable to reply comments on our woke posts because we are busy for the next two hours preparing meals for m...

Some of the most memorable experiences and lessons I've been subject to during my ongoing service year have been in the course of my closeness with a friend I made here. I'll call her Reb. She has been like a mirror in which my virtues have been magnified as well as my vices shamelessly exposed.  One of the vital lessons that I inadvertently learnt and which I will be sharing here today borders on respecting other people's decisions and not always trying to be all goody-two-shoes. I'll give two scenarios involving my friend and I where I goofed on this.  On the first occasion, Reb and I were almost at the market when she saw some oranges displayed for sale and decided to price them. The seller named a price too high and Reb tried beating it down by saying "four for fifty" (four oranges for fifty naira) or so. Unfortunately the seller mistook her statement for "God forbid" and started throwing insults at her. Reb got pissed and started to walk away, b...

Maybe because I've been feeling downcast almost all day, I feel bad about what I heard someone say about me today.  A close friend of mine told me that her friend saw a very recent picture I took in an NYSC uniform and commented that she didn't know I could look that beautiful as she had hardly ever seen me on makeup before. This said friend also asked my friend why I always wore those NYSC trousers that divided my butts. (Well, the tailor that I gave the trousers to for adjustment did it all wrong and I ended up with misshaped trousers, moreover, the pair I was wearing in the picture was newly acquired) Ordinarily, I would have laughed and waved off the comment as I am one who believes strongly in flaunting intellectual soundness above physical beauty or fashion. I had even decided early into my service year that I would never let anyone make me feel embarrassed or self-conscious about my ugly pants since it was no fault of mine and there is more to me than my clothes.  Well,...

I didn't even know Mac Miller until I got news of his death today -I'm such a square. I know, I know. Yet what got me hooked on the news was the fact that he was Ariana Grande's ex-boyfriend (Ariana whom I so love because of her acting roles back then on Sam & Cat and VicTORIous on Nickelodeon. Although by now I have put most of Hollywood's glitz and drama behind me). But where am I going with this? I find it shocking that despite being engaged to someone else already, some folks are still blaming Ariana for Miller's death. Someone who reportedly died of substance overdose, an ex who has had an history of drug abuse, something which even culminated in their break-up. But they've all resorted to trolling her on social media. I'm taking this matter up on here not because I'm so hung up on Hollywood celebrity gist, but because this all  points to  a deeper social problem. WOMEN GET BLAMED FOR EVERYTHING. For well-trained youths who decide on their own t...

Religious prescriptivists have come again to dictate to us how to react should we lose our phones. You are not permitted to cry or whine about your automatically lost 32 gig memory card, about your lost contacts, about the beautiful memories lost with your gallery photos. Why? Because they are sure you will not get worked up as much if it were your Bible that went missing.  This almost makes sense, considering that Jesus even said that where your treasure is, so will your heart also be. But if I worry over a missing phone than a missing bible, does it necessarily mean that I value my phone more than I value God's written word? Let's see.  In my final year in the university, I had this new neighbour whom I invited to fellowship at my church. He honoured my invitation (and even became a regular member), but he had no bible. I had four at that time, of at least three different versions. I used the New King James Version at religious gatherings, but used the Goodnews Version for p...

They came again yesterday. This time, in another form. They tried so hard the first time, they almost won me. They came then as the leadership of the Christian fellowship I identify with. They wanted to put me to shame. My village people. I said I wasn't doing. They arm-twisted me into acquiescence using statements like "It is not good to turn down a spiritual post", "God is calling you to work for Him as His treasurer". I said, "How come God is calling me and I don't feel convinced in my spirit?", "How come you're the only ones hearing my calling and I can't hear Him myself?", "How is treasury keeping my talent?", seeing as I don't do well keeping my own personal money, I spend it all if I don't reinvest it in my business immediately. Eventually, reluctantly, I agreed. I kept their money. No, I spent their money. On my business, on emergency needs, on cool shoes too. They never noticed. I always produced their m...

I remember his whimpers. It haunts me still.  Maybe this is just me being paranoid, maybe there wasn't anything out of the ordinary going on. Maybe I'm just being dramatic as I watch and read too many sad stuff, there's nothing sinister about a crying boy. But why do I keep getting this unsettling feeling in my gut whenever the event of that morning comes to mind? And it always does come to mind.  My companions and I were in the room praying. I excused myself to use the toilet, but first, I had to fetch some water to flush the toilet after use. On my way out, at the corridor, I met our neighbour and his ward. I don't know for sure what their relationship was, whether the young boy was his his nephew or his houseboy.  I greeted them both.  My neighbour gave a spiritless reply. Much uncharacteristic of him.  The boy did not deign to respond.  I went ahead of them to fill my bucket at the backyard tap. While at it, I saw them both walk across my sight, straigh...

I am reminded of one episode that took place in one of my church's midweek services. Preacher: "Do you know that there are some wives who beat their own husbands?" ** ludicrous laughter from the congregation** Preacher: "May God deliver those men in Jesus name."  ----------------------- I am not one to go to church with the aim of picking out flaws in the message or the entire service, but I am also not one who is able to ignore errors, especially when they come from angles where the complete truth is expected to be heard.  The statement above and the response it elicited from the church opened me up to some questions. Questions like- Why is it not absurd amongst believers that men beat up their wives, but it is absurd that women beat their husbands?  When the preacher prayed comically that God should deliver such men, I thought, who then will deliver the women that are being beaten by their husbands? Perhaps, women do not need to be delivered. Being beaten is n...