Isi ji! How we hated that part of a yam tuber. But, whenever mommy cooked, that redundant part invariably found its way to the pot. Whenever I was to select yam pieces into my plate, I picked the “good” part. In slight indignation, Mommy would look at my plate and ask why I didn’t take some isi ji. You’re meant to distribute it; only one person can’t eat the head. How could you just take the fine part and leave the rest for us? Whenever she rambled on like that, I wanted to ask her, “Why cook something no one wants to eat?”
As I grew older, mommy insisted I add isi ji to the pot whenever I was to cook yam. You shouldn’t waste it, she’d say. I tried to reason with her that it didn’t make sense if we hated isi ji yet added it to the pot.
Continue reading “April 1, 2017”
August 30, 2015
And this article centre’s on a “Sunday Sister”.
My friends tell me stuff, personal stuff, because they know I won’t judge them and I keep secrets. I understand we’re humans with primal, animalistic proclivities. I feel people should indulge in whatever they want with the condition that it doesn’t affect anyone negatively. Continue reading “THE “SUNDAY SISTER” WHO DECRIED AND DENIED TASTING THE “SWEET SAPPHIC SAP””
(This is a chapter from a book I’m working on. I hope
you like it. It was written from different women’s
experience. Any character’s semblance to real people
is coincidental. The story is set in South West Nigeria
between 2001 – 2003).
At her mother’s insistence, she had gone to spend the holidays at her uncle’s home in Osogbo. If only she’d known, she would have stayed back in Lagos. Continue reading “Zuri”