BUNMILOFE'S MUSINGS

Part 1 https://mayorspen.wordpress.com/2020/03/26/dinner-at-the-colemans/ Part 2 https://kemisniche.wordpress.com/2020/03/27/dinner-at-the-colemans-part-2/ Part 3 https://demarkwrites.wordpress.com/2020/03/28/dinner-at-the-colemans-part-3/ Part 4 https://covirytz.wordpress.com/2020/03/28/dinner-at-the-colemans-part-4/ Part 5 https://transformationplace.blog/2020/03/31/dinner-at-the-colemans-part-5/ Part 6 https://msgiddy.wordpress.com/2020/04/01/dinner-at-the-colemans-part-6/ Part 7 https://taemytayo.wordpress.com/2020/04/01/dinner-at-the-colemans-part-7/ The silence was deafening. How could a well thought out plan like theirs have failed completely? Rose had always been the simpler one. The one who understood everyone’s motive, always ready to take one for the team. It had always seemed like she could not stand being first, being prioritized. She acted like some things were too good for her. Like she deserved only the backbench. Lauren had a...

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' popu...

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...

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 ...

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...

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 o...

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...

It must be so hard to be a rat Stay in the bush and a snake might eat you Run to the house and someone will kill you Oh the dreadful sorry life of a rat Do cats have it better? Often homeless, at the mercy of the weather Loved by few, suspected by many I bet cats are scared and annoyed, very The sight of one is reason enough to cast and bind Even its owner is considered unkind But dog is man’s best friend Or so they say Many a dog are loved without end Till you go to Agege where they are left to stray At the mercy of dog haters, shooters, even eaters I doubt that a dog’s life is much sweeter Who has it worst? Must be the cockroach Constantly surrounded by reproach Of suffering rodents, cockroaches are the head Man’s constant desire is to see it dead Probably why God gave roaches nine lives And allows its eggs multiply like Solomon’s wives What is man that you are mindful of him And the son of man that you care for him I...

Olubukola is a writer, she even looks like one. Her #TeamNatural fro, excellent English littered gracefully with excellent Yoruba all point to creativity well nurtured. Hence, I was not surprised when I stumbled on this story on her website- thelityard.com and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I thought I should share it here because I also get  blank stares  when I tell people I write for a living. They look at you, hoping you will chuckle and say it's a joke. When you don't, you can literally feel the pity oozing out of them, sometimes it's disdain. All of that matters little, those who know agree that writing is a profession. Many people do not know though, like Mama Rashida in this piece below. Enjoy. Writer ko, writer ni. Mama Rashida’s insistent knocks woke Danny. He turned on his phone to check the time: it was 5:30 am and he knew he would be late if he didn’t hurry. He had planned to wake up earlier to beat the Ikorodu Road traffic, but he had been so tired whe...

She felt the hand come closer. She knew what it meant. Holding her breath, she counted the seconds, wondering what to do this time. It was the fourth time in two weeks and she had said ‘no’ three times already. Could she say ‘no’ again? Why was he so persistent anyway? ‘Do not defraud your husband’, her pastor’s voice echoed in her ears as she felt the hand rest on her arm, testing the waters. But it was not like she intentionally wanted to defraud her husband. It was raining outside and she wasn’t near asleep so it could very well have been a perfect night. Except that they had warned her. Don’t bend o , don’t stand for long , don’t jump or do anything rigorous , avoid anything that will stress you , don’t even meet with your husband- rough play can break your eggs . Pppppffff, very funny, she had dismissed them at first, old wives’ tales that had no meaning. Until she woke up to blood tricking down her legs, her brain trying to solve the maths- maybe it was that ti...

Thanks to @arewadudutomiwa, this poem was written donkey months ago. I can almost remember that afternoon. Seated on the worn out table in front of my windowless room in the corpers' lodge of OGS, wading flies away and watching my beans cook, I penned this words, reacting to Tomiwa's challenge. I cannot remember if I finished the poem or not when I paused to attend to the young men who were also waiting for my beans.  Good times, those times. If only we knew it then.  If you care for poetry, consider this your Monday booster. Enjoy.  She says I have a type Because Lanre was big and burly And I in love did my dance of folly Till he left with everything, leaving me only She says I have a type Because seeing Tunji, I couldn't help but hype His tender eyes that made my hands want to clap His soothing kiss that made my feet do tap tap Till again, I woke up alone, just me and my pap She says I have a type Because as I watched the rich m...

Is it just me or did the sallah break come at the best of times?  Amidst the deliverables of work and everyday living, my biggest concern over the last two weeks had been the impending resumption. It's not that my children are resuming school, neither am I a teacher or anything of the sort. I am just a Lagos dweller shivering in anticipation of the post-resumption traffic that hits Lagos like a wave. The frenzy is so thick it can be touched. Parents and school busses competing to get sleep-ridden children to school before the day even breaks. Horns blaring, words flying, everyone rushing, no one succumbing. And you can hardly blame them, sleep deprived people who left their houses before the cock could crow only to get caught in the same traffic they were trying to beat, exasperating. Totally exasperating. Hence, for me, the holiday felt like a good transition into the hustle and bustle of traffic season. Two days of quality sleep and a Wednesday to start the week, no b...

In ‘stupid song’, Bez recounted the silly songs we all enjoyed as kids. More recently there have been heart shattering discoveries undoing the very foundation on which our education was built. Discoveries like ‘Sandalili’ is actually “Standard Living”; ‘Jangulova epo moto’ is actually “Jingle Over like a motor” etc?  Heart shattering discoveries capable of making you doubt everything you know. For Instance, are you sure you know the real meaning of MR NIGER D or BODMAS? Guest blogger,  @Oyebilan   uncovers the truth behind some funny stories we believed as kids. Whoever spreads these stories anyway? Are we already telling such stories to our kids or creating brand new versions of generational ‘bobo’. In this social media age, garnishing and serving bobo is even easier, God help us! Marshall McLuhan was right, growth is only possible when humans are willing to learn, unlearn and relearn. Enjoy. Nigeria VS India: 99 - 1 Though there are many variations of t...