Musings of an average girl

My heart is heavy! These killings in South Africa... My god! How can you chase a fellow human, hunting them like a hunter hunting rabbits?! And have the effrontery to video yourselves doing this evil?! And still tweet that our government can't do anything about it? And ain't that the truth?! After killing over 100 Nigerians, Buhari sent a delegate to register our 'displeasure'! Displeasure is when one Nigerian is killed by accident, not when they hunt us! Do Nigerian lives even matter? I can't find it in me to be angry with the South Africans, I can't find it in me to be angry with Buhari, I can't find the strength for anything. I am overcome with great pity for South Africa, pity for what White dominance has done to their psyche that they cannot face their oppressors but turn to fight their saviours. How can you say Nigerians are taking your wealth when 85% of your wealth is controlled by the whites who make up less than 9% of your overall population? Ho

Fate and destiny It’s always been said that fate is a fickle mistress, as it changes sides all the time. It makes you question whether or not ‘fate’ even exists.  Destiny on the other hand is said to never change, and that its only delayed. In that sense is it a man’s fate to have his destiny delayed? Or he just did not work hard enough? As Africans we are always blaming fate, destiny, witches, wizards or a supernatural being for our woes or gains. If things go well, its our destiny, God has done us well, God has blessed the works of our hands. But in the event of things not working out, it is surely the hand work of witches, wizards, or bad fate. We never imagine that maybe, there were no works of hands for God to bless, or that our attitude might be a contributor to the damnable fate. This isn’t a story, it’s just me musing. I’m wondering to what extent the fates affect our lives. How strong is destiny in the face of laziness and refusal to push forward?   How powerful is

THE MAN AND THE MAN IN THE PICTURE He was not the type you could refer to as short, but if you referred to him as that tall man, you get the side eye.   He had just managed to be tall enough to not be short, but not tall enough to be tall. He had a pleasant face, sculpted lips, cheekbones to die for, broad shoulders, powerful thighs, like he was really into sports and biceps that screamed to be felt. He was in that skin tone that was neither fair nor dark. He was not dark enough to be dark or chocolate, and yet not light enough to be fair. Now with these averages, average height, average skin color , it may have been easy to think that he was an average looking man. But he was saved with having very intense and expressive dark eyes that seemed to see into the innermost part of your soul. When he was angry, they inspired fear and when he was happy, when those eyes landed on you, they made one feel joyous for no apparent reason. Sex appeal dripped from his every pore, it wa

CHANGED DREAMS There was a little settlement just by the roadside on your way to the oil city, with most of its occupants on the right side of the express way and only a few on the other side. It was a small town with than 30,000 persons.   A town where everybody knew everybody,   on death affected everybody and one birth was everyone’s joy. A close knit community with shared joys and sorrows. But Barbara was never satisfied with the small town life. The world is large and she couldn’t understand how she was to waste away her existence in a small town where nothing new happened. Every marriage ceremony was the same, every Sunday she saw the same faces except for the yuletide season when sons and daughters living in cities and outside the country came home. She wanted out, and she wanted it now! She felt suffocated. She went to university and came back home awaiting national service. As luck would have it, she was posted to one of the largest, busiest cities in the country

In recent times, this word, "Savage!", has become a part and parcel of our society. It seems the culture of respect and compassion is dead or at the very least, dying, giving rise to the culture of savagery. The social media while destroying geographical barriers seems to also destroy empathy and compassion. A successful lady posts a picture, captions it, "the taste of success" maybe, and someone comments, "is that why you are not married?". And others will laugh while hailing him to be a "Savage" and I wonder what happened to respect. What happened to thinking before speaking. We live in a society where people post pictures of their best and if they don't have it yet, they fake it. Infact, it has become normal to fake it until you make it. We are a generation of "slay queens" and "swag princes" exposing our inexpressibles on social media. It's fashionable and even commendable to expose your body. Indecent exposur

Tracy felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. She couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched as she came back from work this evening. She looked around, and finding no one paying ant particular attention to her, resumed walking. Still the feeling lingered. She quickly took a turn bent around a corner and looked around. Sure enough, there was a figure, apparently male, walking towards her. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a face cap. From the distance, it looked like he was wearing a jacket too . "What a weird combination", she thought, then felt the cold finger of fear trace her spine. This is Nigeria, in the evening, but Nigeria nonetheless. Who dresses like this in a country known for its hot weather? She resumed her walk, but at an accelerated pace. She didn't want to wait to find out if her​ fears were unfounded or not. She got home and managed to convince herself that she had let her imagination get ahead of her. Maybe he wasn