Friday, July 31, 2015

No Time to Waste

In a Hurry by @greatise

Lagos is harsh, always in a hurry, each time I come to Lagos it reminds me of this. Passengers sleeping in buses trying to catch lost sleep. Bus conductors screaming with their hoarse voices, while you barely hear what they say. The names of bus stops have become abbreviated so much you need to be familiar with the newly contrived name. Daylight barely breaks before the cacophony of sound shatters the quiet and continues till early hours of the next Day.  Lagos barely sleeps, it's perpetually in motion, always in a hurry to reach its destination. The inhabitants are infected with its fast pace. No leisure walking on its street, feet barely touching the ground before it leaps into the air again, no time to commune with the ground, no time to caress it and allow it feel it's presence. Lagos stands as an enigma a large mural work with the bright and dark sides in a hurry to pass it's message across, No time to waste!

Monday, July 27, 2015

Mum's Cooking

The very first time I traveled out of Nigeria I was married with a child, long before that I had traveled to several places, though not physically but I traveled to other lands nevertheless. Actually my first journey physically leaving the shores of Nigeria was when I crossed into Cotonou to buy my first car, but I digress again. I want to tell you the story of travelling through the cooking of my mum. Her kitchen was our airport, the dishes she churned out was the landing port in whichever country we went.

Liberia Road Accra Ghana with Total House in the background
She opened up our palates at an early age to varying dishes, as long as it was called food and eaten by people and she learnt it, we ate it when she cooked it. Grew up drinking kunu long before I knew which part of Nigeria it came from, yes I finally knew it was from the northern part of my dear country. So soothing when the sun is high up blazing hot and the ground seeks water to quench its thirst. Kunu did magic, refreshing and filling. Koko was a bit difficult for me to adapt to but plenty sugar did the trick, please no questions I told you I have a son already! She took us on a flight to Ghana, banku with groundnut soup was the flight we boarded, Saturday morning was specifically earmarked for Banku, my people the bottom pot was the sweetest! That burnt part that is crispy!! Oh! Wait have you tasted banku with a little of fufu mixed into it? Kai the smoothness, add a little okro to the groundnut soup, heavenly. Donkunu is one food I do not understand why they eat it with such peppery stew, no one answered that question, then I discovered groundnut soup was a col accompaniment for it and the puzzle was unraveled for me, none of that pepper that makes you whistle continuously and seek cold water to appease it while it takes up the room in your stomach meant for the Donkunu.

I traveled far and wide through my mum’s cooking, she made me realize that we are interwoven and there is no reason to look down on anyone irrespective of his or her tribe, tongue or race. She thought me, we have something to learn from each other. God bless Mojirade Theresa omo (daughter of) Adeyemi aya (wife of) Oyedeji.

Friday, July 03, 2015


I have been away from this blog for a long while and it’s been quite an age I penned a poem. Below is one I wrote today. Let us make the most of life. It’s a gift and it is all we have got to make the world a better place. Enjoy, drop a comment I will appreciate it.
Oyedeji Aderemi 


Times of fright
(c) @greatise
Worries and fear
Twist and turns
Hand of fate
Future so bright
Present so gloomy
Past best forgotten
Memories linger on

The breath we breathe
The words we speak
The time Spent
The duties shirked
The frightful dreams
The powerful thoughts
Strange bed fellows
This is life
It ends tomorrow