Hi everyone!
So once again,a topic surfaced… And we’ve been having this argument for months now. Let’s get your opinion,see what you think!

What does being black mean to you?
Is it just a tag?


A skin color?

What makes Africa black?
What makes you black?
Are you even black?!

Let’s keep it coming in!!!



When you decide to get married note…

“When you decide to get married,note that you are embracing positives as well as negatives. Bear in mind that he or she wouldn’t just change all of a sudden because he or she is married to you. You must have realised he or she has such an attribute,you’ll eventually bear to live with it,if indeed you want your marriage to work.”




Truthfully ive never been a fan of Ghollywood. I mean,they have got beautiful actors and actresses,but there’s something called being “dynamic”. It’s not cool seeing the same faces act different roles in thousands of movies over and over again when fresh talents could easily be slotted in. And again,I don’t have a thing for long series of movies with the same story line-prostitution,homosexuality and fornication. I definitely can’t have my kids seeing such movies,and believe me,if everyone adopts my style,for the reason that I do have the interest of the future generation at heart,in the next 30-60 years,I doubt anyone would be seeing these movies. Enough about ghollywood, let me bring you back home to the mighty “Nollywood”. You see, the ability to convey in words how I feel about Nollywood is near impossible. But I’ll try my best to convey my disappointment comprehensively.

Three weeks ago, I sat with my uncle in the sitting room,and we thought, “Why not tune to a Nigerian movie station?”, and you can bet we did. This movie was to be on for another hour. Cool, I could catch up. So you see,I spent the first thirty minutes trying to edit the subtitle in my head before digesting it properly,especially since Nigerian languages were used for some dialogues which weren’t properly translated in correct English language. I was used to doing this already.Yes, I was pained,but then I was used to this already. Ignoring the frustrating subtitle,I continued. Ever felt like you’re choking on water although you’re actually not drinking water? That’s how I felt when this scene played out;

Girl walks over to her supposed employer on whose farm she had just finished working strenuously. The woman smiles at her and says, “My daughter,you are so hardworking. Whose daughter are you?”

Now the girl replies her father’s name and the woman says, “Ah,I do not know him, what is he like?”

And the girl replies,” He’s a very kind man.”

Now the lady says,”Oh really, Then I think I know him. You would marry my son.”

Brethren, two scenes further and this woman brings her son to the girl’s house seeking her hand in marriage. Who gives out one’s child in marriage to a person you just met once? A person who happens to be working on your farm for the first time! In Nigeria? How realistic is that? Okay fine, we could say perhaps this woman was too desperate to get her son a wife, but then how she got to know this lady’s house or most importantly, how she came to know her father after declaring only second ago that she hadn’t heard of him even after the girl had disclosed his name was quite “disturbing.”

Who does that?

As expected one might say, well it’s just this one movie and a malfunction in script or something. And I’m like “wasn’t there a director?” If a movie is worth making at all, it should be produced properly. I’m sorry to say this, but take a good look at the graphics of most Nigerian movies. I mean it gets quite obvious that a scene from a cartoon(produced by somebody else) was slotted in,or even an animated fire or a witch flying up there in the sky. Most times the action occurs before the sound effect; like a character falling down dead before a car knocks him down or before a gun shot is heard.

This is 2018, who still makes these kinds of movies? Stop filling up our screens with so much fakes.We want quality not quantity. Even if you can produce just a movie a year and it’s worth watching,then fine! The casting is so poor,not to even mention the costumes. Listen, we do know you want to portay an average teenager or a lady in her late twenties,but what gives you the idea that the average teenager dresses that way? At least not all of them. When we look at the screen now,we practically see women dressed naked. Is it necessary to dress them that way? Taking a close look at Korean movies,yes definitely I’m not a great fan of most of their costumes,but hardly would you find errotic scenes in their movies,and still they know how to convince their viewers that these two characters just had sex. Is it incompetency or you just want to teach your viewers how to have sex? If we want to watch pornographies I think we know where to find them.

Lest I forget, why does it seem like all through the country there isn’t any girl or boy who falls below the age of 25,and so we see women who are no doubt in their 40s acting the character meant for a 16 year old girl,all looking hilarious in a school uniform? I mean really, you were once students, you should know what a student should look like. Even if you needed an expert and the ones you could find were 30 and above,their make up can be worked on! You dont even give young actors the chance to come to light. No, you want actors who have been in the industry longer than forever to keep acting these roles! Where are the fresh blood?

Another hilarious thing about the Nigerian movie industry is the flash back. A friend was discussing with me and she explained how a flashback occurred in a certain Nigerian movie. In this flashback which was supposed to be some 10 years back, the character looked exactly the same. She even had the same hair style on. A movie which portrayed an event occurring in the 70s having the character on Brazilian hair extensions.

Very few are the exceptions which do not fall into these categories above. What is wrong exactly? Inefficient lecturers in schools? Laziness on the part of the producers? Inability to properly seek sponsors? In truth,how would you be able to get sponsors when they know they’ll be spending their money on a not so profitable deal? How do we go about correcting all these flaws?


I listened to a lady speak about feminism and my heart went out to her. I wasn’t sorry for her because she had made it clear that she couldn’t get married, I was sorry for her because she has not the slightest idea what feminism is to begin with. The worst enemy a group of people sharing a common ideology could have is an ignorant individual amongst them. The ignorance of these few becomes a problem to the rest who actually understand the reason behind the ideology and know exactly what they are fighting for. When one listens to most women speak of feminism, one would think all women are being discriminated against or all women are being tortured, but I do know successful women who are married and maintain their relationship with men around them properly. Being incapable of managing one’s affairs and being tortured are two very different things. It is important that we do not mistake one for the other.

Feminism has never been a movement against men. Feminism was never a move to incapacitate men, but rather to liberate women. It began as a form of reform, to abolish slave trade,gain guardianship of infants,property rights, divorce access, higher education , equal pay and protective legislation. Considering the above reasons for the initial movement,it is ignorance, to claim that women are generally being oppressed in Nigeria. It’s like a perfectly sound person taking drugs meant for someone who is indisposed. Take for instance, feminism movement in ancient Rome and Greece where women were tortured and used at will. The Roman women had no say in political or economic matters. As a matter of fact a woman wasn’t allowed to have too much knowledge, and if she did, she was to use it to stroke her husband’s ego. A woman who was sound in poetry and law was seen as a threat. A woman was often threatened with a divorce knowing she would never see her children again, since the sole guardian of an infant was the father. Women in that setting, were being oppressed. Fights against such oppression would be perfect. And would be termed as feminism. On the contrary, in Nigeria, women were never treated that way. If they were in certain cultures, it was due to the failure of these people to evolve. Like the child marriage, and deprivation of educational rights. At this stage in our lives, to an extent that has been taken care of. People who still practice it are either not enlightened or are simply wicked considering the level of technological advancements in the country. It is outright hypocritical to term rape as an abuse of female gender. There are thousands of boys and men who get raped by women as well. Rape is a crime against humanity and should be treated as one, not solely as a crime against females. The fact that more female rape cases are recorded doesn’t make it a crime solely against women.

In regards to using panadol for another person’s headache, I would love to bring to your reckoning, the African/Nigerian culture. Right from time memorial,women were respected, treated as goddesses and our men were ever ready to provide the needs of the family. In fact, I recall my father telling me tales of how women won the hearts of men with their culinary skills. And believe me you,they were happy doing this. The indigenous Nigerian society had women function as complementary to men rather than subordinate. Power was based on seniority rather than gender. Among the Egba,women were the economic powerhouses of the nation due to the trade and market system they had developed. Women dominated the trade and merchant exchange of goods of their communities. Women were responsible for a number of things including: setting the rules of trade among themselves,agreeing on lucrative terms of trade with outsiders; These women had a highly developed business acumen which they used for the economic upliftment of their community. Majority of these women were taking over their businesses from mothers or aunties of the same profession. This confirms that the economic knowledge they implemented had been honed for centuries. In short, they knew what they were doing. To this day, women still dominate the local market in Nigeria.

Where then does the oppression come in?

We so often mistake our way of life for oppression,forgetting our heritage in an attempt to copy the culture of another.

It is true that there are certain jobs that pay the male gender higher than the females, but truth be told, a woman cannot afford to perform certain jobs as effective as a man would. Having this in mind, it is necessary that we re-enlighten ourselves on the true ideology of feminism and the change we hope to impact by the movement.


The Sea Of An August 23rd

I had decided;earth needed me no more. There was to me a punishment and I was willing to accept it.The angel of death beckoned,and I was ready to heed the call. It was time to let him hold my hands and lead me to my beloved,my living. I had decided,the world was empty,void of joy and happiness. Every moment spent without ‘my living’,reminded me of how lonely he was,how long he’s been waiting,waiting for me to join him. We took an oath,’for better or for worse…in sickness and in health’,I defaulted. He held on to a thin rope of hope,but like a spineless gander,I snithed it. I offered Hades his soul. I killed him,my very own husband.

August 23rd slipped in on us in bed. And like every other birthday of mine,Yomi was to serve me breakfast in bed. Fully awake,I tossed over,knowing he wouldn’t be there. Heaven knew what he had in store for me. Thinking of the upcoming piggy ride when I had to sit on his back and how like a horse,he’ll take me round the living room,made me giggle. I was soon able to perceive the mouth watering aroma permeating the bedroom. Eager to know what he was cooking,I tip-toed my way out of the bedroom,through the living room and decelerated my footsteps when I got to the kitchen. My brain was active now Oat? No,not oat! It definitely wasn’t oat! Pancake? No! 

Then it hit me.I was just about giggling when he turned. He had that lopsided smile on;that one that silently said,”Guess what?” I smiled curiously. Turning off the gas,he came to me.

“Come with me my love”,he had said,pulling me outside with him. I went along with him but resisted when I noticed he wanted me to get into his car.

“Come on”,he had urged me on.

“I’m in my night dress!”

“You look beautiful”,he assured,giving me a fast kiss. I complied and he got in almost immediately. Our destination remained unknown to me,but the drive didn’t seem to end. At last, we came to a stop at the beach, looking out unto the sea.The sun was just beginning to say hello. ‘What better way to start a day as important as this?’…so I thought,but if only all stories had happy endings. Yomi gave me that piggy ride at the beach,in my nighty! He kissed me hundreds of times and showed how much he loved me. He read me poems, made my hair and took a dip with me. But he never came home with me. The tyre…the tyre had come off on its own. The beeping sound of the echocardiograph sent my eyes flying open. My head hurt so badly,so much I winced out loud. 

Yomi…Yomi…where was he? 

Lucifer was playing games with us! He wasn’t backing down. When I tried to move,the pain that shot up my arm made me numb. I recall screaming so loud until a nurse came running in.

“Yomi…where is he?”


“Where is he?!”

I could taste blood on my lip,thick blood. But I didn’t care,I needed Yomi. I needed to know how he was doing. I needed to hear him talk to me. I needed him to be there with me. But no one was bringing him to me! No one…no one.
I awoke from what seemed like a five minutes sleep. It was like that nurse hadn’t injected me,like I hadn’t fallen asleep,only now, papa sat in front of me.


“My princess,shhh…”

“Where is Yomi?”, I managed to ask.

“He’s doing fine,I promise.”

I nodded and soon went unconscious again.

January 1st peeked in,only this time it came with a new calendar. Two years and Yomi still lay in coma,and I by his bedside. He had healed,but his brain bid him no sovereign.He was with me,yet away. Two years,I had waited patiently,visited his ward, read him novels and most times,spent the night by his side. Two years I had worked my body and soul out to pay for his life support. Two years I had exhausted all that was left of our property.I had sold practically everything we owned,everything we ever had.I couldn’t even afford the rent anymore. I finally understood how fast a person’s dream could be swallowed up.Two years gone,and I could hold him no more. The doctors kept ranting about how I was defaulting on payment,and how Yomi had no hope of survival.Its funny how doctors who take oaths to save lives turn out to be monsters who care nothing about their patients. The money,it was always about the money.I needed help,it wasn’t forth coming.I wrote letters, I sent mails to organizations,agencies,and even the state government,but no response came.I was lost. I knew my Yomi was in there,holding on. I knew he had the will to live. I knew he wanted so bad to come back to me. I knew all of this,and yet,I consented to euthanasia. I let him die. I failed him. I gave up on him. I sent him six feet under…I let Lucifer win. 

And so…

“Here lies the body of Tokan Rhoda,daughter,wife and sister,drowned in the sea of an August 23rd. If ever you find this piece,speak to my father,tell him of my love for him. And my brother…tell him to do good to those who deserve it.”

Okunlola Azeezat Olayinka

The Good Side Of Bad…

When Gaia is veiled in obscurity

And the erratic stars ablaze

When Helois wraps up his piece

And the Luna fails to fortify us

Like the diverging rays of light,I’ll fuel your vigour

When winter befalls us

And the roarers our lofty fortress euthanize

When Venus,cloaked in swathy black,averts her gaze

And restless torment grips our sapling,

I’ll fall on my knees before “He”, the fountain of tranquility

When the tears,from my eyes arain

And the gods turn deaf ears to my pleas

When fate unleashes woes

And the furies menace at the threshold of hell,

My heart,a cushion,your soul recumbent.

Okunlola Azeezat Olayinka _Zeeyola

MY FATHER’S NIECE | by Okunlola Azeezat

My Father’s Niece

Communicators League

Stepping hard on the pedal, I brought the car to a halt. While the air smelled of the tyres’ screeching. No, it couldn’t be… I mustn’t have heard right. I could feel my heart race, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Unable to get out of the car, I wondered how I managed to get home safe. Safe… Safe?

A flood of sorrow threatened to push down the door of my heart, but no… not until I discover every single detail. Jolting forward, I realized the engine was still active. I wasn’t ready to die…not yet. Decidedly, I turned off the engine and made my way towards the house. With every step I took, I wished so hard that the discovery I made was false. That all I grew up believing was not a lie. That the woman I called mother, was the one who gave me life through birth. That…

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Accept My Apologies

To Generation Unborn…


I’m sorry that your little eyes may hold so much pain and atrocities,that your feeble body may never be held for as long as you deserve.

I’m sorry that you’ll be emotionally distressed and mentally vulnerable at such a tender age.

I’m sorry that society has taken much more than it will ever be able to give.

I’m sorry that lies and deception,corruption and hatred, has overpowered goodness and happiness,love and loyalty.

I’m sorry that you’ll have to carry a burden of whose genesis you know not.

I’m sorry that our economy has drastically failed and so much expectation has been invested in you even before you were formed.

I’m sorry that again you might have to pass this on to the next generation…and they after them.

To our fallen heroes;

I’m sorry that after much said and done, your courage and struggle has been seen as ‘out of place.’

I’m sorry that your grave has been spat upon by societal ingrates.

Im sorry that the evil you died fighting, still hovers.

I’m sorry that society has failed to appreciate your deeds and stand by it.

I’m sorry that humanity has failed to share your lenses.

I’m sorry that races have stuck to racism and tradition prevails over a conscience.

I’m sorry that the courtroom is just another casino centre and  justice is deprived as one plucks off a flower’s petal.

I’m sorry that whispers of fear and the smell of death still lingers.

I’m sorry that this room has been abandoned by freedom fighters and societal mediocrities now take their place.

I’m sorry that you may have to be reborn and the cycle continues…

To Our Women;

The soil on which our green emanates

The ones who without,humanity is doomed

Courage carved, perseverance personified

The powerful yet delicate.

I’m sorry that you’ve had to endure to survive

Im sorry that it took so long for freedom to puncture this pain-filled silence,

I’m sorry that your battles were fought alone and your sobs muffled up,

I’m sorry that society has forced you to stoop so low

I’m sorry that regardless of your struggle, deception and pain is all you get

I’m sorry that for so long you’ve spoken,but like the buzzing of a bee,your voice was ignored.

I’m sorry that often times you’ve been given ejaculation instead of education.

I’m sorry that once again tradition has won this cause

Oh I’m sorry that you were bruised, battered and tossed aside.

Im sorry that no regard has been given to you

Im sorry that your dreams,goals,aspirations and expectations were ripped off even before you were birthed.

I’m sorry,

I’m sorry that ‘how do you do?’ sends a totally inappropriate message

I’m sorry that you’ve not been allowed to blossom,spread your petals and reach your desired heights

I’m sorry that you were made a mother while you were still a daughter

Im sorry that you give your all and get nothing back in return…

To All Men…

I’m sorry that you’ve been made to carry so much your back aches

I’m sorry that you were deprived of a blissful childhood,”Don’t you know you’re a man?” the magic line

I’m sorry that you were taught to bottle up your feelings as they were seen as weaknesses

I’m sorry that you were made to suffer silently, no one to lend a listening ear

I’m sorry that so much is expected of you, you hardly think of yourself

I’m sorry that society has made this ‘fractional distillation’ of truth and lies impossible

I’m sorry that you were told you had to be that bridge that extends to magical places while you weren’t handed a map.

I’m not sorry

I’m not sorry for any of these,

I’m not sorry because yes,it all began with someone, but it can end now

I’m not sorry because we can put an end to all this!

I’m not sorry because there’s hope for us

I’m not sorry because this change we seek can occur.
Okunlola Azeezat  Olayinka_Zeeyola

What’s Your Story?

We all have different stories to tell. Stories of loss of loved ones, stories of betrayal and deception, lies and truths, love and heartbreaks. Emotional trauma, educational failure, the problem faced by parenting, trust issues, self-doubt, loss of self-esteem, hatred, pain, rebirth…a lot of stories! I’ve got mine too, and I’ll drop it as soon as possible. There’s always someone out there who needs to see it and know that he or she isn’t alone and that it isn’t the end of the world. What’s your story?

Drop your comment and let someone gain confidence and find their purpose from your story…!