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Showing posts from March, 2017

THAT DAY HE HIT ME SO MUCH, I WAS SURE I WAS GOING TO DIE! (PART 2)

         He had come back from work looking royally pissed and I’d been walking on egg shells trying not to poke the bear. But there was just no escaping it. As was his custom, it started with a slap. I was quiet. Experience had taught me that speaking was a terrible idea, but my silence (which usually saved me from getting more than ten to eleven blows) did not help me. It seemed to infuriate him even further. He hit me and just kept hitting me. That day, he hit me so much, I was sure I was going to die. Lying on the floor as blow and punch after punch was delivered to my body, I remember thinking this is it. This is the day that I die. All I could think of was my kids and who would take care of them. It’s all I’ve been thinking of these five years. I don’t know how I got up. There were neighbours, lots of noise, and everything was just hazy. And just like that, I was running. And even in my state of distraught, a part of me realized how absurd I must look to ...

THAT DAY HE HIT ME SO MUCH, I WAS SURE I WAS GOING TO DIE! (PART 1)

         Even in my state of distraught, a part of me realized how absurd I must have looked to passers-by. A visibly battered, semi naked woman running on the streets bare feet. I didn’t know the exact extent of my injuries or how bad they looked but I just knew I had to be a sight for sore eyes.            You’re confused I know. Although it is hard to tell what exactly is confusing you. It has to be one of three things; who I am, why I am running on the streets in such state and why I am bothered about how I look while running on the streets in such state. I’ll tell you who I am, but not just yet. However, so you don’t keep staring at whatever device it is you are using to read this as if its calculus let me start from the beginning.             I met my husband five years ago at a friend’s birthday party. He asked me to dance with him; we talked, laughed and of course, exchanged numbers. He calle...

TOKE MAKINWA’S ON BECOMING; THE REALITY OF THE NIGERIAN FEMALE

Yesterday was the launching of Toke Makinwa’s book titled On Becoming. For those who don’t know who she is (which is nobody, but let’s humour you), Toke Makinwa is a socialite Vlogger who talks about the basic day to day of life, and now an author from what I hear. Or at least that’s what I think she does. I believe she has been around the social world for quite some time but I only just got to really know about her when the scandal of her failed marriage broke. I read so much about it then, but the most of it being that she was a lady who had failed in her responsibilities as a wife and as such, had driven her husband into the arms of another woman. Some said she was more or less the home wrecker as the man had been with this other woman first and Toke had seduced him into marrying her (I didn’t even know that was possible; I’m going to have to take notes from Toke on how to seduce a man into marrying you). But as it is with everything social media these days, the story quickly died d...