Top 7 F words.

My favorite f words are family, friends, fashion, faith, food, fun, and free. I can hear my best friend in my head say you missed one Pataki F word, rolling my eyes like she is here in front of me, I write in all truthfulness, old things have passed away, I have self-control and I am no longer carnal minded. Family friends and fashion mean the world to me. Faith is my plug, most importantly we know it's impossible to please God without faith. Fun is my outlet and a way to balance things as adulting is no beans. You see that free gan seems to be the very Pataki F word. How do you explain the free breathe given to us by the MOST HIGH, I wake up each morning in awe and say twale OLORIAYE, AWAMARIDI, OBAANU, then start the day, I drink water, don't eat breakfast till about 12noon. I go to the restroom and I do my number two freely, hmm it's another round of praise, I was diagnosed with diabetics around October 2018, my blood sugar was over 600, I could have passed or being in a coma or even become mentally unstable, but yet again God came through, I was placed on insulin and metformin, little did I know that the side effects of metformin for me, will be chronic constipation, getting to do number 2 was a world war, the pain was unbearable, hubby helped to massage my back, helped with putting Vaseline in my behind and stayed with me to push shit out, hubby is no poet, doesn't do flowers and the many many romantic gestures, but he came through in support, he earned the title odogwu freely from me, so imagine the happiness I feel when I do my number 2 freely with no hassles. another thing diabetics did was mess up my ability to hold pee, any delay, I made it rain, that thing bothered me, made me miserable, just how can a full-grown woman have no control and pee on herself, it was awful, hearing stories from other diabetic women who had made it their new normal

still didn't help, a friend said the only reason she had leather seats in her car was for the leaks, she gets home, has a bath and cleans up her car, and open it for air.hmmmm it still was not seating well with me, even if hubby still assures me it's ok, I felt terrible, having to wear more dresses and skirts to reduce leak accidents, so you understand my joy when I can freely hold number 1, till I get to to the toilet, it was exciting news to share with Esther when I freely held number 1 for hours, no leaks only then did the quote, the best things in life are free make complete sense to me.

Beyond the skin

June 13th is Inter

national albinism awareness day. I took the time to trade stories with pals and read some experiences of some albinos. I had this one experience that stayed with me, a friend of ours, offered myself and a friend a ride, he was clearly offered a ride too, we entered the tight oye filled ride, next thing my friend thoughtlessly uttered that she didn't realize "afins" can see in the day, the guy driving was an albino so was his twin, they co-owned the car and did their pal, our friend a favor by picking us, the speed the car came to a halt, cant be described. I didn't need to be told it was a polite way for us to "Jabo ninu motto ", I came down respectfully, friendship mi after such "Jabo" was still taking her time, dudes had zero tolerance for bs, as soon as her one leg hit the floor, they drove off, she landed on the floor yakata, I could not hold down my laughter. I laughed and lectured her on her tactlessness, how thoughtless can you be, I asked as I helped her get on her feet, she said she was only trying to make small talk, I laughed and told her she is lucky it didn't cost her legs. These and many more are the ruthless lies, myths surrounding albinos. Another time I was on a bus and sat in the front seat with an albino, we talked throughout the trip, till he alighted, and we even exchanged numbers.viiiam! From nowhere some dude joined me in the front seat, he started making small talk and I just keep mute, he kept talking and I ignored him.we got down at the last bus stop and he was like I have been talking to you, but you just ignored me, but you were there shinning your teeth with an albino few minutes ago, you even gave him your number, am I not better than the albino he asked.gbagan! My head goes hot and the need to school him takes over me, better than him, how? I ask him? He is looking at me in wonder, his expression clearly showing "moti gba na je". Is he not human? Why will you ever assume you better than a fellow human, the reason I was nice and friendly to him is because I understand being an albino, he hardly experiences acceptance, he does not experience nice and warm gestures, he is faced with rejection and stigmatized.People constantly deal with him with the assumption he is no good, people think they are better and refuse to associate with him and if I meet a thousand albinos in one day I will always be warm and kind to them, they are human and their lives are a little harder because of ridiculous myth s, lies and assumptions. I love people of all skin tones and colors and albinos are not any different from us. Hold an albino, hug an albino, say something nice to an albino its world albino week. To every albino you are much more than your skin, you are loved.you are cherished.kizzes.

Dangerous games.

To and fro on the gram, I come across this nnkan be worthy video. A man, somebody's husband decided to go on a sex bout with a woman somebody's wife, unfortunately for them, the man almost gave up his ghost. From the  look of things, the woman ran out for help when the man started acting funny. Trust Naija peps they sprung to action, setting the guy on a motorcycle driving him off to a clinic/hospital, but they had to make a video of the woman asking her questions. Badly shaking and lamenting she mentioned she had a husband and he also had a wife. she went on saying if to say she know, she no for do this kian thing, which kind problem be this, speaking pidgin asking in panic. What shook me, is she didn't feel an iota of remorse for committing adultery, she only felt bad she was caught in the adulterous act, she really wasn't even bothered about the man who seemed half dead from their sexual escapade.it was just a mess. I shook my head in amazement at how sexual fluidity has become a norm. T

his people being popular and trending over their lack of discipline. I sincerely say a prayer for this man to get well because it's such a terrible way to die.Being morally upright and being disciplined is a shield and protection on its own, but no we humans sha,want to live lawless, indulge and celebrate immorality all in the name of woke, modern and civilized. Aye oni mo wa o. We will not trend over anything shameful and disgraceful. The only standard for living is Christ, let's all repent from secret sin and be upright. Ire o

Pocket saving slay.

My love for gorimapa(clean shaved head) wasn't born out of making a bold or daring statement, it was born out of a need not to break the bank, I will sound like my people",econs lo ba de". A newbie in the America, I needed to get my hair redone, after carrying my weave for three weeks, as it's the habit of most Naija chicks. I walk into a hair salon, with confidence, told one of the hairdressers I needed to get the weavon out, wash and get medium-sized braids done. My saving grace was I asked how much it will cost, my total came up to about 300$. Awu su bi lia! I struggle to remain composed,3 wetin,ki la gbe, ki na ju? I won't be able, I was hot, I was cold all at once, I came in the country with less than 2k$ if I made my hair with 300$ how e go be? Afara! I need to get out of here. I tell her I have things to do and will have to come back. Out of the salon, I breathe in and out, I didn't realize I held my breath all the while. I walk to the car and tell my friend I had a change of mind. At home, I use scissors to get the weavon off, stood in front of the mirror and cut my hair into a fro, still unsatisfied I shaved the entire hair in anger, looking at the outcome, it didn't feel bad after all. Isiro lo ba de. Voila!! A Baldie was born.

The ghost returns......

Deja Vu is this fancy English word I have always known. Something about the sound fascinates me but I never get the chance to use it.

Today, I was transported back in time and I am having a replay of my ex-hubby.

Funny when the names of "Yoruba demons" are mentioned, the name 'Lanre' always falls in the top three. My ex-hubby is a Lanre, full-fledged Yoruba demon.

Few weeks into the birth of our first child, I used the loo, flushed but it won't go. If you ever have given birth through Ceaseran Section, you will understand your bowel movement never gets to function right immediately. I had a dump in the loo that did not want to go down. I couldn't carry anything heavy as per instructions I got from the doctor from birthing through CS. Unfortunately, it was a time the borehole had issues so we lacked running water. I was in a dilemma about what to do.

"Na mouth I go used to explain. He should understand." I reasoned.

I washed my hands and went to stay with my baby. Oga got back. I was probably sleeping and missed the chance to tell him about the incident in the loo. He came charging into the room, demanding an explanation. I did try to let him see the reason but he was so angry.

He charged out of the house and was gone for three days. No phone calls, no text messages, nothing. I called his phone a good number of times yet he never picked.

I was worried sick, helpless, and in a state of confusion. He strolled in on the third day, face downcast.

"What happened? Where have you been? Why didn't you call? Why didn't you text or even pick your calls?"

Bobo went flat like an agama lizard. Belly on the floor he prostrated and held on to my legs. Tears in his eyes, he begged "Please forgive me. I am very sorry. I let my anger get the best of me." He got up promising it will never happen again.

 Yoruba demons are actors, Odunlade, Majid, Ramsey, insert the name of your favorite actor and they have nothing on them. They write the script and act it out to perfection. 

   Well, it became the new normal. He leaves for days and comes home with stories, shed a tear here and begs. I'm not in the 'Ruth geng' neither can I turn to Mario and die anywhere, so it gradually turns to a war zone. Insults were hurled and it finally turned into violence. And as Yorubas will say "opi

n cinema", the marriage packed up and we went our separate ways.

   Years later, today, I'm having a flashback and experiencing a Deja Vu. Leebo has learned the Yoruba demons code: Never argue, act sober, say sorry, and keep doing the same thing on repeat. He isn't sleeping out though he constantly does as he pleases and says sorry.

   Isn't sorry supposed to be accompanied by a changed behavior? You purposefully disregard your significant other and think sorry is the route out of an argument. Can men just drop these demonic ways and man up? 

   Marriage is a two-way street that involves compromise. It's never about "I" but "us" and if it's so difficult to adapt, stay single.

   I finally got to use Deja Vu in a not fancy situation.

Bouncing of bad energy.

In my feelings today, feeling like a failure, my friend iya ijebu aka yoyo bitters called, she is unaware of these nicknames, I gave her this names because she is the real definition of killjoy, chats, and dialogues with her just leave me feeling hopeless, depressed and defeated. She calls to check up on you and makes you feel worthless, like you not doing enough with your life, she wants to advise and teach you how to live your life, despite the fact she knows nothing about my very life, so I know first-hand she is no position to give any decent advice, yet feel terrible. That's the crazy thing about the mind, once you hear stuff, it takes conscious effort to drown the effect of things you have heard, in this case, she felt I wasn't doing enough, I had no goals and I wasn't doing a thing to improve my life, this made me question my existence, my validity and I started feeling uncomfortable, feeling like my life had no meaning, feeling stuck and almost asking God why? I talked with a few friends and had a pep talk with myself, how? just how can I let a stranger rattle me up this bad? who works harder than a bricklayer I reason, life in itself is a privilege, you work hard, you work smart and see results, it's something called grace.there are people who work twice as hard and smart and nothing much to show, there are those who work less and have a lot to show, life has no manual, no one size fits all guide, just do you.its, not a race, there are no winners no losers, it's all about the mindset.

Once a pupil

Looking like your favorite efiwe.bookie! There is something about clear shades that says seriousness, near perfection. this picture of me wearing clear shades transports me back in time, Junior secondary school.it was j s 2 Yoruba class Mrs. Salawu the Yoruba teacher walks in.it's a double period and she was meant to teach, she probably came in unprepared for the class and had to be in the class for a double period, so she picked on me, glasses wearing me. she started reigning insults on me in Yoruba, talking about how dull I was and how kids who wore recommended glasses were top-notch and highly intelligent, but my case was exceptional, I was so dull, there was no other pen color on my result but red. I remember this incident like it was yesterday, she said ashun eje.this went on for the rest of the class and I felt dizzy from being thoroughly insulted and being the butt of her dry jokes for almost an hour, she left without teaching at the end of the period, traumatized and in pain, I made up my mind it won't happen again, I went to report to one of the vice principals and in the next class I was asked to come to get one of them, so they can monitor her next class and I did as I was told, anyway, she was transferred to the primary section, if it was as a result of the incident, I can't te

ll for sure, but off she went with her terrible nature and awful looking Jerry curl. I always wondered who made Jerry curl in 95, except a miserable, broke frustrated Yoruba teacher. I wasn't an exceptionally bright child, but I was clearly far from stupid, with a little encouragement, understanding, and affection, I would have done well, but having teachers like Mrs salawu who obviously was burdened, under stress as a teacher, just didn't help. that woman was a sadist, lost and angry like most women thinking about it now, adulting and adult issues can be overwhelming. she came back to secondary school when I was in Ss 2, under punishment for something and as I knelt down serving my punishment she passed some teachers who were talking about me and she joined and commented about how terrible I am and gave me some hot slaps at my back, before running along with her poisonous self. many years later, I still remember her when I wear clear shakomended glasses. being a grown-up woman now, I realize she was one bitter and unhappy woman who needed help to unburden but didn't reach out for help or get help, and she must have gone about spreading her poison to many students, teachers who are meant to nurture end up messing and damaging youngsters.