BUNMILOFE'S MUSINGS

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Of Iya Tunde, Mama Bose and timeless corner stores...

When world rankings predict that African Businesses have a 5-year life span, do they factor in the petty traders that man their corner shops for a lifetime? I visited my parents in Abeokuta recently and was again amazed at the persistence of these corner shops. Photo by Breston Kenya from Pexels When we moved into the area in 1997, 'Iya Tunde' was already there, the official plug for fresh bread, Monday to Sunday. She had a grinding mill too, where children socialised while they waited for their turn to grind pepper or beans. She sold more than bread, pretty much anything people needed. Her goods often changed with the seasons, balloons and 'banger' accompanying the yuletide, leap balm and 'Rubb' surfacing in harmattan and umbrellas to welcome the rains. It appears like she has been there forever, but she has four educated children and two completed houses to show for it. What about 'Iya Bose' popula

Go back the way you came

You do not need to be a Bible scholar to know Elijah, the fire-breathing, rain-holding prophet who consistently gave Ahab and the prophets of Baal grief-until Jezebel gave him an ultimatum. It has always been a discussion trigger in Christendom, how such a mighty man of God can quiver in fear at a woman’s words. One would assume that someone who had experienced such deep depths of God and delivered such remarkable exploits would be above random comments and empty threats. However, a closer study of that scripture clearly reveals that Jezebel or her vain threats were not responsible for Elijah’s end. As a matter fact, verse 3 of that account in 1 st Kings 19 read in King James Version revealed that Elijah took off ‘when he saw that’. This begs the question, what did he see? The answer is graciously provided later when he finally got God’s attention and God asked him twice- what do you want? Elijah didn’t mention Jezebel even once. He kept on repeating how all the other prophets h

My Shadow is Red

I can predict the complaints. No, I can recite them. Family and friends, the ones who should be closest. How can they be so close but yet so blind? ‘Vero, you never attend any family events. Veronica, when will you come to my house for the weekend, Vero, you are always alone, won’t you marry…yen yen yen…’ I never have words for them, I ran out of words a long time ago. Usually, my first impulse is to burst into hysteric laughter or break down in uncontrollable tears. Since I can do neither without losing the little dignity I have left. I simply walk away and find solace in the loneliness that is my life. How do I explain that I cannot sleep over at your house because my flow can start at any time? Would you understand if you I tell you that I do not have anything to wear to the family event because clothes are not even on my list of things to spend money on? Where would I get money for such frivolities like luncheons and tea when I have to buy box after box of sanitary pad every

Sorry, But Do I Know You?

The organisation to whom I signed the hours between 9 and 5 of every work day was going to have a big event and decided to use Instagram influencers for the publicity. I was on the team tasked with the responsibility of selecting the influencers. A couple of names were suggested, and we had to monitor them over for a while to see if they fit our brand and could deliver on our objectives. So, I clicked the follow button for a few guys, but there was one of them I found interesting. He came off as very natural to me; his skits very relatable and his personality amiable. Before long I was no longer observing him as a duty, I actually enjoyed and anticipated his content. I became a fan. From his posts, I came to know where he schooled, his wife’s name, their child’s name, when they got married, why they got married, where they met, what she does, when they had their child, etc. I could hold a conversation about him, I had more than enough information and his posts were a regular part of

For Kikiara… Held by the Everlasting Arms

They say pregnancy is the only time you fall in love with someone you have not met. Perhaps they are right. Or maybe not. I feel like I met you way before the scrub clad nurse brought you to me, announcing in her happiness laced high pitched voice- madam see your baby. Yes, it was the first time I would see your pretty face with its little features, the first time I would hear your squeal, but we both know we have known each other long before that moment. From the very first day a tiny piece of paper announced your presence in my tummy, I knew I would not hesitate to give everything to see you be. And it almost took everything. In the months that followed, there were many days when the tiny flutter of your movement was the only reason I survived. The story of your gestation and birth is so long and juicy, I cannot now and here tell it. Just remember that while I travailed to give you life, you gave me life in more ways than one. You are God’s gift to me, an unmissable proof of Hi

On your mark, set...run!

Like play, like play, 2017 is reading. The changing dates pointing fingers at me, asking what I am doing with the avalanche of opportunities staring me in the face. So I have begun by thinking, looking within and without. Particularly because Proverbs 19:2 has refused to leave me alone. It is dangerous to have zeal without knowledge, says the wisest man ever liveth. For me this year, it is not about the blind rush, I'm withdrawing from the rat race, I am choosing to discover the things that matter, focus on them and excel at them. Hopefully, 12 months down the line, I would be bold to say I fought a good fight. Of course, I can hardly preempt what the year has in stock for me but I can focus on the author of time and choose to not be swayed by every wind that hits me. If my feet are firm, my hands steady and my eyes single, the lines should fall in pleasant places. First comes my eternal love, then my companion on the journey called life- him and the home the L

BUNMILOFE'S MUSINGS

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Posts

Dinner at the Colemans- part 8

Of Iya Tunde, Mama Bose and timeless corner stores...

Go back the way you came

My Shadow is Red

Sorry, But Do I Know You?

For Kikiara… Held by the Everlasting Arms

On your mark, set...run!