depression, Life lessons, lifestyle

Depression, friendship, accidents and emergencies. 

Based on a true story. 

(Over Whatsapp)

Patrick: I’m losing myself 

Me: *No answer*



(over whatsapp) 

Me: so what do you think about? 

Patrick : Pain, suicide, death. 



….a series of emotional conversations 




I knew he didn’t want to be here. Neither did I. We both knew. But we kept quiet, holding on to the sweet silence, letting it comfort us. After endless chats and phone calls,  I had finally convinced Patrick to see a psychiatrist. Even though I wasn’t certain if he really suffered from depression, I’d panicked when he let me in on his story. It was filled with pain, addiction and sexual escapades. For fun, I’d shown him a document containing all the signs that a person might be depressed and asked him to tick off anyone that he could relate to. He’d ticked all. It was no longer fun. I knew he needed help. 

At some point, it becomes impossible for man to help himself. This is a bitter truth and we all despise it. 




Theres a certain smell that your clothes assume when they’ve been freshly washed and dried but haven’t received enough sunlight. It reminds you that although your cloth is clean, it’s not that clean. This Hospital smelt that way. It makes a healthy man sick and a sick man, healthy. 

I took Patrick to the Medical-Out-Patients clinic and hoped to meet a friendly, familiar face.The nurse on seat reminded me of Shrek; tall, and huge with a funny skin color .  I spoke in my softest voice and explained to her that I had a friend with me who would love to speak to a psychiatrist regarding a case of depression. 

Her countenance changed immediately. I like to believe that she found me charming. But I know it was pity. Nothing but pity radiated from her skin as she looked over at Patrick. He looked lost, uninterested and didn’t even bother returning the gesture when she smiled at him. 

We were directed to a psychiatrist who, turned out to be a family friend of Patrick. He was very professional however and ushered us into an empty consulting  room for privacy. He asked Patrick twice if he wanted me around while telling his story and he looked shocked,  when Patrick nodded, twice. 

Patrick and I are not related; at least not by blood. We do not have a romantic relationship;at least for now.  What exists between us is simply friendship resting on a foundation of pure love; at least that’s what I’d like to tell you. 

 The psychiatrist listened to him relate embarrassing incidences of his life for 5 minutes and concluded that he was indeed depressed. He begged off the case for two reasons. One,  it was past office hours. Two,   he was familiar with ‘the patient’. He pleaded we go to the ‘accidents and emergency’ ward so that the psychiatrist ‘on call’ could take a proper history. He assured Patrick that he was right to have come and he would get the help he needed. 

Meanwhile Patrick had become extremely chirpy; smiling unnecessarily and reassuring us that he was fine and  just wanted to go home.

 In the history of chirpiness, over chirpiness is always an indication of something bad on the side of the chirpyee. 

I knew his feet had gone cold and he wanted to bolt. I didn’t blame him. It was getting too serious. We were starting to feel like real adults facing real problems and taking real steps towards solving it.

5 minutes later we were at the accident and emergencies ward. We filled out the required forms, related our tale of depression and gobbled down the sympathies the nurses offered. I should talk about the other young man who was brought in for what looked a lot like schizophrenia, but I can’t bring myself to. 

The nurses were nice. Sit they said. Wait they said. For how long… They never said. 

For a miracle,  a blessing or a solution…. Waiting is the hardest part! 




The benches for ‘visitors’ were long, hard and uncomfortable. There were only three benches;on the first bench, Patrick took a spot beside the young man from the reception and I tried hard not to see any similarities, after all how much did schizophrenia and depression have in common?

 On the second bench, a fat woman sprawled across it’s length in a deep sleep very similar to a coma. She didn’t stir. Not when the pregnant woman with contractions rendered shriekish freakish screams. Not when the nurses yelled at an offending visitor. Not when the FRSC van screeched to a halt in front of the entrance bearing a bloodied man. She didn’t stir. Not once. Not ever. I occupied the last bench alongside a nursing mother, who was worried about her child’s tender arm. 

I immediately began to type up a blog post on my phone.I was writing about my first day in prison and I closed my eyes trying to remember the color of dress I’d  worn that day. Anything was better than waiting.  

The nurses raced to and fro the room of the pregnant woman. She had stopped screaming. A cleaner hurried away with a bowl of clear fluid. Another with a bowl of blood. Something was wrong. They looked sad. I never heard her scream again. Maybe she died. Maybe she fell asleep.  I’ll never know. 

The woman on the second bench slept on.  I typed on. Patrick cast an impatient look at me. I ignored him. 

We are all objects of horror. Some of us , however, are better pretenders. 




We’d been waiting for almost 3 hours. My phone was dead. All I could think of was the blog post that I hadn’t completed. I always feel indebted to my readers and an incomplete blog post and no battery wasn’t helping. I had a book, I always have a book. So I took it out and began to read. It was the story of a notorious cannibal, Dr Hannibal Lecter. It made me nauseous so I closed the book. I looked over at Patrick,  he wasn’t doing any better. He had begun to twist his hair with his fingers, locking them into some kind of make shift dreads. 

I went over to the counter, smiled at the female doctor standing and asked once again when the psychiatrist would arrive. She was friendly. She reminded me of Dora the explorer; short and wide eyed with an awkward weave on her head. She called Patrick and started to talk to him. 

  How was he feeling? What does he do? Does he have a girlfriend? What does he do for fun? She placed a hand on his arm and laughed a little too loud when he murmured his answers. 

Was she doing her job? Or was she flirting with him? Was I jealous? 

Patrick smiled at her,  answered all questions politely, but after a few minutes, excused himself and began to pace.

Waiting is the hardest…




Patrick couldn’t take it anymore. Dora had clearly failed at keeping him calm. He wanted out and he wanted out now! He paced the length of the waiting area and when that became too small,  he went out the door and began to pace outside, facing the incoming traffic of broken bones and wounded men. I hurried out to meet him,  placed a gentle palm on his shoulder and said softly “She’ll be here any minute from now”. He turned cold at my touch and replied stiffly “That’s what you said 4 hours ago”. 

“I know, Patrick. But we’ve come this far already, we might as well wait 30 more minutes” I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t wait anymore “. He turned away and was beginning to walk away when Dora, breathless from running , pointed at us and said to the woman, obviously the psychiatrist, beside her  “There they are!”.

  Things happened quickly. She apologized for taking so long. Who was the patient? Was he a student? Was I his sister? When did I start suspecting that he was depressed? What time does he sleep at night? Has he ever contemplated or attempted suicide? 

  She concluded quickly. He was definitely depressed. It was moderate but might escalate into severe depression. She would pay attention to his insomnia. His body needed sleep. She would recommend some drugs. 

  She gave information quickly . It wasn’t an emergency. She only deals with emergencies. They wouldn’t admit him. Protocols are important. We should report to the ‘General Outpatients’ Monday morning. The psychiatrist on duty would take a proper history. She would give us a note to give the nurses.

  She scribbled quickly. On one paper, a note to the nurses at the General outpatients. On the other,  a prescription to be taken to the pharmacy for his insomnia. She gave Patrick the papers,  smiled deeply and said “please come back on Monday “. 

He nodded. I nodded. 




I knew he wasn’t  coming back. We both knew. But we said nothing, holding on to sweet silence and letting it comfort us. We walked farther away from the entrance, passing by anxious family members; weary mothers holding on to their frightened children and disturbed fathers trying their best to look calm.  I turned to look at Patrick, that was the darkest I’d ever seen him,  his skin seemed to have lost every bit of shine and looked dry. Or dead. Or both. When we got to the main gate,  he turned to me and said “let’s make a deal”

“what deal? ” I said without taking my eyes off his. 

“if I don’t feel better in one month, I’d come back for the appointment “

He was lying through his teeth. He was never going to admit to me that he wasn’t better. He was never coming back to this hospital; at least not for this reason. But I smiled and nodded,  respecting his decision to lie for my peace of mind.We walked on in silence and I held on to the lie, letting it comfort me. 

At some point, our help is no longer helpful and we have to resign to the universe to do with them as it pleases. This is a bitter truth and we all despise it. 


Patrick never went back to the hospital. 

He also never spoke of his depression or addiction with me again .

He says he’s fine and gave his permission for this story. 

Depression is real. 

Sometimes, talking helps. Other times, it doesn’t. 

But for what it’s worth… 

Please share your story. 


Book Review, Books, Life lessons, lifestyle, Relationships, Uncategorized

The Subtle Art Of Not Giving  A Fuck; Book Review. 

Book: The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A Fuck. 

Author: Mark Manson. 


34 year old American blogger and entrepreneur, Mark Manson uses experience, plain honesty and profanity to create a best selling self help book. You’ll probably never see another author with such a raw style of writing. From the title of the book, I’m sure you can already imagine the raw, yet awfully pleasant content it holds. This book however is not a recipe for extreme nonchalant and carefree behavior like the name might suggest,  it is however a recipe for getting the best out of life by using our fucks wisely. 

” You’re going to die one day. And in the short amount of time between here and there,  you have a limited amount of fucks to give. And if you go around giving a fuck about everything and everyone without conscious thought or choice,  well then you’re going to get fucked. 

When you give a fuck about everyone and everything  you will feel that you’re perpetually entitled to be comfortable and happy at all times,  that everything is supposed to be just exactly the fucking way you want it to be. This is a sickness”.

Major Theme


Lesson number one. Life is not a bed of roses. Never has been,  never will be. 

Sometimes life sucks and the healthiest thing you can do is to admit it. 

 This book is a guide to living a happy life and the writer makes it clear what contributes to a happy life

The key to a good life is not giving a fuck about more. It’s giving a fuck about less… About only what is true and immediate and important. 

The writer also expresses anger at the modern culture of believing that one should be happy at all times. 

Our culture today is obsessively focused on unrealistically positive expectations. Be happier. Be healthier. Be sexier… Fly your helicopter to your wonderfully fulfilling job where you spend your days doing incredibly meaningful work that’s likely to save the planet one day

He believes that this is a tool of the social media and modern psychology that feeds on our lack and makes us believe that if we so much as feel anything other than happy, then we are not worthy.

Sub themes


There are a handful of common values that create really poor problems for people. 1.pleasure. 2.Material success. 3.Always being right 4. Staying positive 

The writer talks about good and bad values and explains how all our actions and reactions are based on our value system. He also differentiates between good and bad values stating that good values are reality based, socially constructive and controllable. 


Pain is an important part of a success story. It’s safe to say that the author agrees with the maxim that says NO PAIN NO GAIN. The writers tone suggests that to live a pain-free life is to have no life at all. 

The avoidance of suffering is a form of suffering. The avoidance of struggle is a struggle. Hiding what is shameful is itself a form of shame. 

The writer also believes that happiness comes from pain/Struggle. It is through  the process of overcoming our challenges and struggles that we experience joy. 

One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful. 


Confronting the reality of our own mortality is important because it obliterates all the crappy, fragile,  superficial values in life. 

You know how when people come so close to death, they begin to appreciate life and all its beauty? The writer narrates how he intentionally came close to death by climbing on a cliff and when asked how he felt when he descended,  he replied “I feel very alive”.

We’re all going to die. No one’s going to escape it. And the sooner we accept the fragility of our lives, we would have less time for bad and unnecessary values. 

10 Important Nuggets from The Book.

1. Not giving a fuck does not mean being indifferent;  it means been comfortable with being different. 

2. To not give a fuck about adversity,  you must first give a fuck about something more important than adversity. 

3.The pursuit of positive things is in itself a negative thing. The acceptance of negative things is in itself a positive thing. Go figure. 

4.If you have to round up people who have suffered a tragic loss or battled a medical condition or generally suffered something terrible,  you’d be rounding up everyone. There’s nothing unique about your problems. 

5. Choose your struggle. Nobody has it all. 

6. Pain is part of the process. It is important to feel it. To deny it is to deny our own potential. 
7. We are defined by what we chose to reject. And if we reject nothing,  we essentially have no identity. 

8. We don’t always control what happens to us. But we always control how we interpret what happens to us as well as how we respond. 

9.You’re very fortunate if you started from the bottom because things can only get better. Even if things go bad,  you’ll only end up where you started, so why not try?

10. Evil people never believe that they are evil. Rather they believe everyone else is evil. 

Personal Review. 

First of all,  shout out to my friend Ottah Osondu for recommending this book and giving it to me with the exact words ‘This is one of the most influential books in my life”. Having read the book, I can say that it’s the same for me too. In my opinion, here are 9 type of people who must read this book. 

1. The self victimizer who thinks they have all the problems in the world. 

2. The grandiose who think they have no problems

3. Those who are afraid of dying

4. The person with a low self esteem

5. Those who want to be successful 

6. Those who DON’T want to be successful 

8. Any person who loves a good book 

9. Anyone with a sense of humor 

I hope you get my point,  but just in case you didn’t .EVERYBODY SHOULD READ THIS BOOK! And when you’re done reading, how about you close your eyes and thank the creator for a mind like Mark’s. I did. 

My favorite part of the book is where he sheds light on what he terms the “Victimhood Chic”. It is a situation where every single person in the world feels like they are being oppressed in some way (see article ‘Depressed is the new cool ‘). Through racism, cultural appropriation, sexism, body shaming, homophobia, religion, animal rights… The list is endless. 

This attitude, perpetuated by the internet and social media, allows us to avoid responsibility by blaming others. You don’t like a textbook because you think it’s racist? The school is to blame for how you feel and you’re being victimized . You don’t like the lyrics of a song, the artist is to blame for offending you. A month ago, a young lady shot 3 people at YouTube building because she wasn’t getting enough views on her channel and “YouTube was to blame”.The writer points out that while people might be blamed for things that happen to you, you and only you are responsible for how you perceive it and how you react. 

Mark points out that the problem with the victimhood chic is that it sucks attention away from the actual victims; after all everyone is claiming to have a problem. Besides conflict is the side dish of living in a liberal society. 

Part of living in a democratic and free society is that we all have to deal with views and people we don’t necessarily like. 

Before this, I had only ever done one book review on The Joys of Motherhood and I’d put off doing a review on any book that wasn’t fiction even though I read non-fiction more. I was scared of how you all would react to it and I doubted I could do a good one. Then Mark Manson came along and confronted me with this

The real question is what are you choosing to give a fuck about? 

I advise you keep reading. 

In the last chapter of this book lies the most therapeutic and logical paragraph ever written and in the spirit of the weekend, I’d let you have it .

You are great. Already. Whether you realize it or not.Whether anybody else realized or not. And it’s not because you launched an iPhone App or finished school a year early or bought yourself a sweet as boat.  These things don’t define greatness. You are already great because in the face of endless confusion and certain death,  you continue to choose what to give a fuck about and what not to. This mere fact. This simple optioning  for your own values in life,  already makes you beautiful,  already makes you successful and already makes you loved. Even if you don’t realize it. Even if you’re sleeping in a gutter and starving. You are going to die and that is because you too were fortunate enough to have lived. 

 Have you read the book? Do you agree with the Writers perspective? Can you hook me up on a coffee date with Mark? Let me know in the comments below. Xoxo

fitness, Health, Life lessons, yoga

6 Life Lessons I’ve learned From Yoga. 

A good friend once said “This life is awkward “.

I agree. You never know what is in store for you or what different events in your life could teach you. 

8 months ago when I started the very rewarding practice of Yoga, I was just a fitness freak who needed a spice to my daily squats and weekly cardio. I would finish my workout sore and do a little “stretch” to ease the tension in my muscles. Fast forward to today, I dedicate at least 3 hours to practice every week and I have benefited both physically and mentally from this healthy habit. 

Earlier, I said you never know what you can learn from the various events that take place in your life. Well,  I have made a list of 6 unusual lessons about life that yoga has taught me. With or without yoga, I hope you too can learn from these. Enjoy! 

1. Appearances are deceiving. 

Our world is becoming more and more visual thus making this a very important lesson for me. This lesson comes in two forms; 

First, everything is not as easy as it looks

I used to look at yoga pictures on social media  and say “oh she has both feet on the ground, I can manage that” but getting  into the practice has made me realize that poses are harder than they appear. Same with life! Good following on social media,  clear skin and a couple designer bags is no guarantee that a person is having it easy with life. Most times, they’ve struggled a lot to get to that position and are probably still struggling! 

Second, how you think you appear is completely different from how you actually appear! 

This one cracks me up! In yoga practice, there’s a pose known as the reverse warrior pose and this is what it’s supposed to look like

Here’s a picture of me doing the exact same pose

I know you laughed and I forgive you. However, we must understand that our mind’s eye sees things diffently from others. Failure to understand this is what we term ‘lack of perspective ‘and is the cause of many failing friendships and relationships. 

You think you’re being opinionated? He thinks you’re just downright rude! 

She thinks she’s just being caring? He thinks she breathes down his neck! 

Relax, the problem most times is not with our actions but with our perceptions. I don’t know the solution to this but I believe if we accept that we all perceive things differently, we would be so much happier. 

2.You can’t achieve everything on your own. 

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

Case closed. 

3. Balance is everything 

 A lot of people have a wrong belief that the sole benefit of yoga is to get more flexible. It’s very disappointing to learn as a beginner, that your flexibility and strength are nothing without balance. Take for example the dancer pose aka natarajasana. It requires equal levels of flexibility and balance to achieve.

In the real life, we have different strengths and weaknesses. While it may be tempting to focus only on the good or that which we are good at,  it is important to understand that balance is key in surviving life! 

4. Sometimes, Do nothing! 

 You see not every yoga pose requires weird twists and ‘crotch-smelling positions’.  My favorite pose is the corpse pose and it is so called because you literally just lie on your back,  completely relaxed, like a corpse! Not every action in life requires an equal and opposite reaction. Sometimes, it’s okay to do nothing and just let things play out the way they would. 

5.. Hardwork is nothing without Persistence. 
So what you busted your ass doing 3 hours of yoga yesterday? If you don’t get up tomorrow and the day after and the day after to keep practicing, the essence is lost and you would find that you are still unable to carry out some basic poses. 

This applies to every life situation. Don’t just work at it. Keep at it! You’ll never achieve your goals without persistence. Little drops of water make a mighty ocean! 

6. Be Penny wise and Pound foolish 

Say what?

What this means is that if you take care of your pennies,  the pounds would take care of themselves! If you want to do a back bend, start by stretching your spine. If you want to cook spaghetti, start by boiling water. Same thing! 

You made it to the end!  I hope you enjoyed my yoga lessons and learned from them too. To create this photos, I teamed up with Hablat pictures and it was an amazing experience;  check out her instagram here.

Have you ever done yoga? What have you learned from it? Would you ever try it?  Let me know in the comment box below. 

Please like and subscribe to get notified of new posts. Have a splendid weekend! Xoxo

Life lessons, lifestyle

Stop Saying Success Is The Best Revenge!

How wonderful it would be to have lived in the 20th century! 

Not because I crave the world wars or the absence of facebook; but because I would have lived in the same century as Frank Sinatra. Arguably one of the most popular and influential singers of the 20th century, I would give anything to ask him what exactly he meant when he said Massive success is the best revenge! 

This quote has seen many versions of itself, most popularly when Beyonce sang in her hit song flawless that “The best revenge is your paper “ . Khloe Kardashian  also started a reality show called Revenge Body with  Khloe, where it is constantly repeated that “The best revenge is a hot body”. Okay Avengers, let’s start from the basics. 

To take revenge means to take a retaliatory action against someone or people  who have hurt you and success? Well, the concept of success is so broad,  it’s hard to confine to a definition. However,  people have likened success to many terms including  content,  time, fame, peace and the ultimate; money (let me know your definition of success in the comment box below ). 

There are 3 reasons why you should stop saying success is the best revenge. 

1. It Belittles Your Hardwork. 

I got into secondary school at the age of 9 and stayed top of my class for the five years that it mattered. In my final year, I managed to get suspended  and struggled to pass my final exams;  WAEC, UTME and post UTME. I got admission into the University of Ibadan to study Physiotherapy and I’m currently in my 4th year, struggling to maintain good grades. 

To become a practicing physiotherapist after my five years in college, I must undergo a one year internship and from there move on to the National service to the country; NYSC. After these, I can begin to practice at the lowest level and would begin to look into getting a Masters and Phd.

Besides being a physiotherapist, it is my desire to be a certified nutritionist and Yogi and to pursue modelling and photography  as a hobby while maintaining a writing and public speaking career. 


Picture me, a few decades later, strolling the streets of Florence. In my eyes, the unmistakable quality of happiness so sweet you could almost taste it, hand in hand with a husband as shiny as a freshly peeled egg. The picture of a perfect vacation. 

I stop to take a selfie.

Selfie taken. 

I click on the instagram app and select my just taken selfie to be uploaded, my brain thinking of a caption.

 I write.

Stay grinding. Success is the best revenge

In 7 words, 60 seconds and 90 heartbeats,  I have managed to confine my entire story to one phrase. 

 “A retaliatory action”. 

2. You have no assurance of their suffering. 

 I get it. We want to become successful so that we can stick it up the noses of those who didn’t think we would. But if the aim of revenge is to hurt the other person,  you have no assurance that your success is actually a pain in the necks of your “haters”. I hate to be such a bummer but what if they’re actually happy for you? What if they’re not even aware of how “successful” you are? What if you’re just one more in their lives? 

In the event that your success does hurt the person/people you were out to get,  then… 

3. You’re no different from them. 

A priest once told me.

If you don’t like a pig and decide to wrestle with it, soon,  there would be no difference between you and the pig. 

They took pleasure in your hurt/poverty/failure. You set out to be successful and stuck it up to them. Now they’re hurt by your success and you take pleasure in it. Two peas in a pod! 

 I call it the cycle of evil and it’s probably what Selena Gomez tried to break when she said Kill them with kindness. 

I don’t know if success truly is or isn’t the best revenge,  but I know that Success is the best showoff! And for instagram captions and witty tweets,  that should suffice! 

Please drop a comment and Subscribe to my blog to get notified of new posts. It would mean the world to me. Xoxo

Books, Life lessons, lifestyle

10 Books. One Soul. 

Did you hear that the soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished, or the luster of it will never appear?

Did you know that only few people and things possess this “polishing powers”? Among them, writers! 

Did you ever read a book and feel it scalding your skin like hot oil,  burning it’s way through to the deepest corners of your soul and igniting a fire so intense, it could fell a small village?

I did. I do. I have. 

Below, I have made a list of 10 Books that have set my soul ablaze along with a quote from or about each book .I encourage you to do the same in the comment box below. 

1.The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta. 

“A man is never ugly”.

2. No longer at ease by Chinua Achebe

“When a coward sees a man he can beat, he becomes hungry for a fight”.

3. Girlfriend 44 by Mark Barrowcliffe. 

“Well well well well well well fucking well well wellity well well well”.

4.Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

“She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me”.

5. Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie .

“People have crushes on priests all the time, you know. It’s exciting to have to deal with God as a rival”.

6. Elegance by Kathleen Tessaro. 

“Being beautiful is no guarantee of happiness in this world. Strive instead for elegance, grace and style”.

7. Palomino by Danielle Steele 

Josh cried. Norm cried. She cried. The judge grinned, and Timmie waved his teddy bear at the judge with a broad grin as they wheeled into the elevator. “So long!” he shouted, and when the doors closed, the judge was laughing and crying too”.

8. The Bride Price by Buchi Emecheta

“The first book I wrote was the bride price which was a romantic   book,  but my husband burnt the book when he saw it. I was the typical African woman. I’d done this privately, I wanted him to look at it, approve it and he said he wouldn’t read it”.

9. Th3ee by Ted Dekker.

“Take my heart. Take my soul. Wash my mind as white as snow. And if anyone comes after me with a gun, please put him in a place where there’s no sun – preferably 6feet under a concrete tomb”.

10. The Girl who Can (and other stories)by Ama Ata Aidoo.

‘So what did you say you’ll be when you grow up?”.

“The President”.

“WHAT! “.

“Why not? “.

“You are mad! “

What books have set fire to your soul? Kindly drop a comment below and also let me know which of these books you would love me to review. 

Like, subscribe, share and have a splendid Easter celebration. Xoxo

Life lessons, lifestyle

My First Day In Prison! 

I walked in a free woman. 

The undeniable quality of curiosity added light to my eyes and a spring to my step. The guard led us through a tall green iron gate  and the heavy sound of the latch resounded like a thunder strike as if to say “welcome to the underworld” . 

Underworld? Not yet. 

We entered what looked like a waiting area; only there was nobody waiting. Everyone seemed to have a purpose and hurried around as if standing on one spot might set off an explosion that would put Hiroshima and Nagasaki to shame. Uniformed officers,  dashed back and forth with crumpled papers. An elderly man complained in a loud voice about being disrespected by one of the prison guards. An alhaja, dressed in all black, fumbled with her head gear and my eyes dashed back and forth, trying to keep up with all these activities. 

We were searched. Sorry, we were caressed by a female officer with gloved hands who instructed us in a voice colder than a frog’s nose to “place all phones on the table” .

I glanced at a blackened portion of an originally green 5×7 wall that doubled as a black board bearing information as precise as a surgeon’s scapel. 

 912 persons awaiting trial. 

170 persons convicted; 167 males, 3 females. 

We signed in and were led through an open area that must have been  the ‘prison yard’. My group mates and I had 2 main focus. Keeping close to the chief psychiatrist we’d accompanied and ignoring the stares from the prisoners (mostly male) who appeared to be “receiving fresh air”. Oh God the stares! 

They fell on me like melted candle wax, causing me to feel warm but uncomfortable. Warm because even within the walls of a Nigerian prison, attention is still food for a woman’s soul. Uncomfortable because the red, off shoulder,body hugging dress I wore offered no protection from their lustful undressing eyes. 

What is life without common pleasures as freedom and sex? I concluded… Damnation is not for the weak. 

We settled in at the sick bay and waited for the prisoners in need of a mental checkup to start arriving. The young man with the freshly ironed prison wear and chinese tattoo standing beside the nurse caught my attention. He wore a leather watch and rocked a haircut that screamed rockstar!  He was friendly and 5 minutes after we settled in,  he entertained us with his story. 

He was once a loser who trafficked hard drugs. After a bad deal he was caught and sentenced to life imprisonment. He had however gotten used to the system and risen to the rank of “honourable” in the Prison Government. With his knowledge of drugs, he works in the prison sickbay, assisting the nurses in dispensing drugs and caring for sick inmates. I arrived at a new conclusion… Damnation makes the weak, strong. 

One by one,  they crawled in, spent at least 30 minutes,  and crawled out. 

A 35 year old man was manic. 

A young man of 19 could not remember his name. 

A 60 year old woman awaiting trial was pregnant and depressed .

Time passed.

I was getting bored. 

All of a sudden, the whole room turned to look at me and burst out laughing. I quickly turned to Shola begging her to let me in on the joke. 

But Shola can be such a cockroach.

 She was too busy laughing, she paid me no attention.  

10 minutes later, I finally got my translation. 

Strange inmate: *turns to me and says in yoruba* I know this sister. Back in Ilesha, we used to gyrate. We didn’t date o, but things went down. 

It had to be the dress…. 

Well,  the dress plus the fact that …Damnation robs a man of his sanity. 

I walked out, a prisoner of my own thoughts. Confusion casted a shadow in my eyes and a slouch to my posture.

The real world bore 5 similarities to this underworld. 

1.None of us asked to be here. 

2. It is a beehive of endless activities and possibilities. 

3. Some of us have found peace and learned to make the best of our situation. 

4.Some of us haven’t. 

5. We have however come up with an organized system to put some order to the madness. We call it, Government.

And so I concluded… 

 All men are  imprisoned. But some are more imprisoned than the others. 

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Life lessons, lifestyle

15 Things I Hate Most In This World. 

This is a hate post!

 With adulthood comes the privilege of disliking a person or thing so intensly that it blossoms into hate; the best part? You don’t owe anyone any explanation! Here’s a list of 15 things I hate and I encourage you to make your own list in the comment box below. Ready? 

1. The sound of a person chewing food. 

2. Watery stew

3.  Rats

4.  Infinix phones 

5. The smell of insecticide. 

6. A cheating spouse

7. Slow internet connection 

8. Long queues

9. The food “ikokore”

10. A bad performer. 

11. Bread and Tea

12. A person that doesn’t shut the door behind them. 

13. Disrespect

14. A person that finds it too difficult to apologize. 

15. A jealous person

I’m looking forward to reading about the things you hate too. Like,  comment and don’t forget to subscribe. Xoxo

Life lessons, lifestyle, Relationships

Selfies And Men. 

She smiled.

She pouted. 

She even did a thing with her legs and I almost reminded her that it was a selfie, not a cover shoot for Vogue. 

My frustration was perhaps borne from being late for class and still being forced to wait for her while she took a selfie. Or maybe because I knew she wouldn’t like any of the pictures  eventually. Why? Let’s just say she’s hard on her Self… Sorry, Selfies. 

Meet my friend Olivia. 

Olivia  is a young woman who loves to take selfies. 

She however has a hard time selecting her favorite picture. 

Regardless of how many times we tell her the pictures are great, she only goes with her own selection.

But when she makes a selection , it is worth every second spent. 

Men are just like selfies! 

You should have a hard time selecting “the one”  and should never settle for one simply because your friends think he’s “good for you”. But when you make a selection, he’ll be worth every second spent! 


These are the men who come but do not stay in your life. It’s not that you hate the person in the selfie,  but it’s just not right for you and your state of mind at that moment. Perhaps you made a pout and are convinced you look funny but there’s nothing wrong with a pout and would make another girl look and feel great. 


Remember the happiness and satisfaction  you feel when you finally get that one perfect selfie?You change your display pictures and post it on instagram while waiting for the likes and compliments to start rolling in. Sometimes you throw in a little filter to make it more “perfect”. Well, this is the man you finally choose to love. He makes you happy and you are proud to show him off to friends and family.  He may not be perfect but with filters of love and respect, you two can make things work. 

Blessed are those who pick the right selfies for they shall inherit the kingdom of happiness and satisfaction! 

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    Life lessons

    Depressed is the new Cool! 

    Happy is cliched. Depressed is the new cool. It is not that we are scared of being happy. It is that we are scared of not having a story. 

    I like to consider the world a village full of mad people. Don’t make that face. Don’t they say mad people are the people that are always talking?

    We talk because there is an unspoken instruction to tell our stories. To tell of what we are,  how we became and what  we would become. Oh how we love to talk! Some of us tell our stories through words, some through characters,  others through music, some through pictures and others,  through art.

    But it’s easy to feel forgotten and unheard in this mad village. I do.  Like the sound of a pin drop in the market square. So I  bite my lips and stare in envy at the lucky ones.

    Perhaps not the lucky ones.  I call them the cool kids. 

    The ones whose voices are being heard. Whose stories and faces are splattered across the news.  Those whose voices are playing on the radio and whose books our noses are deeply buried in; the people we so dearly look up to. We call them Celebrities. 

    So I  listened again…. This time more intently to what they so passionately talk about. A writes about being raped. B suffered anorexia. C raps about having no friends.  D got stronger from a broken marriage. E claims to have grown up poor. F was abused by her father. G has a cheating husband.  I found a pattern.

    They suffer. They talk. We listen. Piece of cake!

    It doesn’t matter whether or not they find happiness. It doesn’t matter what lessons they try to impact with their stories. It doesn’t matter if they’re reaching for help or just playing on our emotions.  And it sure doesn’t matter whether these sad things actually happened to them. Only one truth matters.


    I had no shoes. 

    Do you know how many tests I missed because I didn’t have 20 Naira? 

    Back when I was broke… 

    I come from the streets… 

    My husband gave me an STI

    It goes on and on….

    Many of us are already down this path and to be honest,  I don’t know if this “marketing strategy”  is Very smart  or Very ridiculous.  You decide and let me know in the comments!

    They say the truth will set us free. Well…

    Happy is cliched. Depressed is the new cool! 

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    Life lessons

    Orange Lives. 

    Yellow. Soft. Sweet. That’s how I like them. I fall hard for their perfect dimensions and even harder for their juicy holiness. 

    After almost 2 decades of a fruity life,  I have begun to see a refreshing similarity between humans and my yellow friend.


     Take an orange fruit and poke at it with a toothpick or a knife. Keep poking until you’ve made a number of holes around it. Now squeeze the orange with your hands and observe. 


     Light yellow liquid(Orange juice)  trickles out of squeezed orange.


     Orange fruit contains light yellow liquid called orange juice. 

    Pretty basic huh? 

    This experiment is a proof that you only give out what you have on the inside. 

    Let’s try this again… 


    Take a human and poke at him with discomfort, inconvenience  or failure. Keep poking until you’ve caused enough damage  to elicit response. Wait for response.


    Human displays a fit of tantrums and hate actions. 


    Human contains hate.

    We all get poked. By the crazy,  unpredictable events that life throws at us (and sometimes facebook) . It is worth remembering that our actions and reactions are merely an outflow of that which we already harbor inside just like vomit is food already in the stomach. 

    Have a bright weekend my lovely readers and don’t forget to subscribe to get notified of new posts. Xoxo