The Stories I Tell...

     James must have eaten thousands of meals in his lifetime, but only a few held strong memories for him. Not an easy feat, considering there are only so many times you eat a particular dish before it becomes commonplace.      There was the bean porridge his aunt Chinanza used to make during the primary school holidays, which he and his siblings spent at her house. The porridge was watery, with fragrant fresh pepper and soft yams sliced into it. At that point in his life, he didn't enjoy eating beans, but he always enjoyed Aunt Chinanza's. He hadn't spoken to Aunt Chinanza since the big family fight, but whenever he thought of her, he thought of her beans.      Then there was oil rice, which his brother Tom used to make when they were still in secondary school. Tom was a bit of a mad scientist when it came to the kitchen. He would go into the kitchen and concoct meals that their mother certainly did not teach them. Nobody knew how he came up with his recipes, but they alw

  I lost a friend like keys on the sofa Those are the opening lyrics of a song by Finneas that haunted me for a while a few months back. The first verse paints a picture we're familiar with: losing your keys, your wallet, time, or a bad bet. It usually starts with having confidence in the knowledge that you know where the keys are or you have time or you'd win the best. A Confidence that quickly vanishes in a puff of smoke when you realise that you aren't in control. Then you ask yourself, ' How did this happen ?' One day you're looking at photos and it hits you that you haven't spoken to Paul or Jennifer in forever and that it would be totally weird to do so now. You've lost a friend. This is a story about how I lost a friend...for a bit anyway. It is highly condensed but you'll get the gist. In this story, I'll call my friend Drake. Lol. It begins with a party-that-wasn't-a-party. I had been experiencing a bit of Impostor's Syndrome aro

 [7/19, 21:49] Me: What is this Love? I know brotherly Love, parental Love, and God’s Love. But this one, what is it? [7/19, 21:50] Friend: Omo!!!!!!! That is a tough question. It’s really unexplainable. This is an excerpt from a conversation I had with a friend. I wanted to know what ‘love’ is, the type that makes people get married to each other. I have several questions about it, and I’d like some answers. Something that fits and is fairly recognizable. I’ll start with the biggest question. Is there only one person we are meant to love? Is someone out there The One for us? Okay, this is not a question I answered because I do not believe in The One. There is no one person out there who is the one for you neither are you the one for someone. However, if the LOML of your life can be any of more than seven billion people on earth, shouldn’t there be a reasonable limit on how many people you can have a strong affection for or any other variant of Love? Is two or three people an appropria

My childhood ruined me. Okay, that was a bit dramatic. Actually, it was Disney that ruined me. Or maybe it was the romance novels. I’m not sure anymore. One thing I’m sure of? Love is stooooopid. As a kid, I was presented with a very idealistic and probably unrealistic view of romance. But as the smart kid, I quickly wised up. Almost no couple I saw in real life reflected what I saw on screen and in books. The horror stories I heard about what married people did to each other definitely didn’t help either. So I concluded, no such thing as love. Of course, we love God and babies ( because who doesn’t love babies?) From a young teenager to a young man, I never had an inkling of that feeling that would make me want to commit to someone. Of course, I had crushes, but that was all they were, fantasies. I liked the Hollywood love, but I knew that wasn’t possible. I guess it’s true what they say: if you wait long enough, everything changes. And that’s precisely what happened. One never plans

     He had been standing there for what seemed like hours, unable to make up his mind, and with each passing second, the award plaque grew heavier in his hands. He could hear his father’s voice echoing from the past as clearly as though he was present in the room with him. Which was not surprising after all, as he was standing in his father’s study. He remembered how he would stand with his elder brother Seyi as they helped his father set up more space on the Wall of Achievements as a child. He could remember how their father would tell them with pride in his voice, the stories of each award as he added more and more every year. He stared again at the wall, which told the story of his father, Dr Obafemi Michaels, his outstanding career as a surgeon, researcher, and even as an upstanding citizen of his country. The wall was covered with award plaques and souvenirs. There was even a medal of honour from the former president.       The Wall of Achievements had been extended to the wall o

  Chidi struggled with his tie in front of his wife's mirror. He could hear his Adaku's patience going down the drain as she repeatedly honked from the garage. A smile appeared on his face as he mused about how husbands usually have to wait for their wives. Now she was the one waiting for him. If only he could knot the damn bowtie correctly! After a few more trials, Chidi gave up and took out the navy blue necktie, which he already knotted in the usual way some time ago. Then, grabbing their tickets, he went to join his wife in the car.  In less than an hour, they were seated in the conference hall. The event planners had decorated the hall with ribbons and balloons in the company's colours: red and blue. Two chairs were placed at round tables which had been arranged around the hall to face the dais. The dais had the designated high table behind which had been placed large cushion chairs. A banner on the dais loudly announced: Happy Retirement, Chief Oluwole! In front of t