TOUCH

10.30am Somewhere in Ibadan

 “Good Morning mum, how was your night shift?” Fareedah (Pseudo name) said smiling and genuflecting welcoming her mother. She peeped into the white nylon bag containing the loaf of bread her mother never forgot to buy on her way back from work. “Pele omo mi.[Nearest Meaning:How are you my child?] Oh! Thank goodness we have light”, I really need to take a cool shower and sleep, I am tired”, her mother sighed.

OUR TOYS CHANGE…

Warning: This is a very random blog post.

You see, I have this thing in me, I thought was never there.  I am still in the process of obtaining a restraining order against Microsoft word because I think I have been conspired against by the forces that make this world spin and worse, by the forces that try to make it not to.  Every time, this brainwave walks into my head, sits, crosses its legs, stares intently at me, lights a cigar and begins to blow smoke rings towards me. I ignore it, I really try to. Then it picks up cymbals and starts to strike them together. I immediately develop selective deafness, I am too busy. No time. Then it beckons to my phobia- Astraphobia. Finally I give in.  I really think it is high time that atavistic(hmmm, big word) astraphobia always hovering around is dealt with. On realizing it has crossed the Rubicon, it gets up and whistles away. Annoying Brat…

Touched by an angel

Most times, we complain about our country, the government, the economy, our neighbors, friends and more often than not, God. Whatever it is, there is always something/someone to complain about or blame, just like President Jonathan who deems it seemingly fit to blame ‘no one’ for corruption. Good thing is, that he has ‘one’ to blame. So, in my queenly garment, scepter and my cute poodle (wink), I finally decided to summon courage and blog this (this story is about a month late I have been really busy).