Shit can be...

Cow dung somewhere at Dawaki

Ugly.
Pretty.
Depends on how you see it.
The same shit that stinks is the same shit that becomes manure.
Waste births life.
We die to live. Ultimately.
No running away from that shit.
Face it head long!
Embrace that challenge shit and when you are done kissing, make sure it becomes manure.


PS: Wishing you shit enough for excellent manure!
Origin of shit? See here

His sleeping moments bring me some peace

So it's morning and I'm awake but he is still asleep which is a good thing. That way, I can have some more "me" time-very very neccessary me time.
But he's sleeping so peacefully, I can't resist the urge to click away; so I decide to document the moment.

Bum in the air sleep position

Some stirring

Some ear scratching

Finally, eyes open!

Some eye scratching

A huge yawn which kinda reminds me of...

This! lol

 And just when you think the drama of waking up is over and done with, he gets off the bed and cracks me this sweet smile.

So yes, his sleeping moments bring me some peace but it sure is great to have him awake!

When The Going Gets Tough

Sometimes life is such a struggle you begin to wonder if there really is anything to be thankful for.
You suddenly forget all the blessings God has so beautified your  human existence with and you let despair hang round your neck and pull you down (At this point some people commit suicide).

But no, not you!

See, you're Nigerian.
And being Nigerian is being able to move on regardless.
Being able to find some humour in that dark place.
Being able to hold your peace when that taxi driver calls N500.00 from Area 1 to Area 3.
Being able to trek that distance and call it weight loss strategy.
Being able to handle poor customer service and not sue.
Being able to sleep inspite of the N20 Billion Naira target your manager just gave you knowing you're not an armed robber.
Being able to carry on with your life inspite of all the deaths in your country hoping Government would deal with it.
Being able to eat despite knowing Government can't, won't, is unable to deal with it.
Being able to go shopping knowing your Government spends more time in prayer than actually providing solutions.
Being able to sleep with your generator on and endure all the racket that comes with it.
Being able to sleep without the generator on (You dey save fuel), feel your sweat flood your sheets and still wake up optimistic about dawn.
Being able to...(Fill the blanks)

Being able to get down on your knees, deep in all your troubles and thank God that you don't look like a fish (See picture below)

God bless you fellow Nigerian.
May we find the strength someday to rise up and say NO! Enough is Enough!
Until then, make tomorrow count for someone!

Selah.

My First Birthday Party!!!!Yipee!

So I volunteered to cover my nephew's birthday over the weekend. I reckon that one way to learn is practice, practice and some more practice.
When you don't practise you don't grow. Just like my French. It's as stagnant as a lake. J'ai tout oublie. But never mind. Back to the subject at hand.
I covered my first birthday party! Yipee!

Enjoy.

What's going on here mom?

Who are all these people?!

Huh? Did that thing just move?

Things I learned?
1. You really can't make a toddler look at the camera.
2. Most adults are camera shy.
3. A birthday party is more than just taking pretty pictures. It's about telling a story, tears and all.
4. There's so much to learn in photography...like how to use lightroom 3.
5. And there's always that tiny guest who is more interested in the doggie.

 PS:
Happy Birthday Adorable J. Grow up to be all God's called you to be. May you meet a Nigeria where electricity works and where people don't die in a stadium trying to write an aptitude test for a job they may not have gotten even if they had lived.
Aunty loves you! 
Mwah!


 

A game of hide and seek and photography...

So did I mention I'm into photography now? Actually, I've been into it for a while-in my mind. I take these amazing pictures in my mind but I'm working at replicating them in real life. And God so kind, I have this amazing model! He charges an arm and a foot and some breastmilk to be photographed (plus I have to clean his poop) but he is such a natural I can't help but use him.

So Nepa has struck but Dieu merci, there's this cool breeze coming in through the windows and flirting with the day blinds.

My model sees an opportunity for a game of hide and seek and runs for it:

 He hides.

In his little model mind, I can't see him.

 

 

Pretending I can't find him to prolong this sheer contagious fun, I hide behind the day blinds too.                                                       
                                                          And it's his turn to find me.

He thinks I'm hiding by the door  but I'm right behind the curtains! Then my camera goes click and gives me away!

                                           He finds me and grabs my boxers hot shorts.

       

And then beams this lovely smile at the world!

PS: So would you let me cover your child's birthday party? Or your bridal shower? Or your Pregnancy shots? I'd let you know when I am ready for your wedding (:

WOman to woMAN

Dear Trans Woman,

I understand you were born man.

I however don't understand and would never understand why you became woman.

I try to understand it, believe me I do. But I just can't wrap my head around it.

Is it because you think women beautiful?

We have long hair (or weaves), our curves make a ruler awkwardly straight, our lips are oh so full and kissable, our eyes are framed by thick long lashes (which we purchase sometimes), our dreamy skin, our oh so so long legs, our gait...

Or is it the fact that we menstruate once every month and go through a kaleidoscope of moods in the process?

Or that sometimes we don't menstruate and it weighs us down really bad?

Or maybe it's that you are fascinated by the fact that we have these Y shaped uteruses that possess this amazing ability to house babies.

Or we get pregnant and crave sand and chalk?

Or it's that we don't get pregnant and are termed barren?

Or maybe it's that we fake orgasms so the man can become the sexual stud he thinks he is?

Or it's that we remain in abusive relationships for any number of reasons ranging from love to children?

Or could it be because sometimes we bury our faces in our pillows and cry through the night because life can get so so complicated?

Or because we wake up the next day and wear that smile we don't feel?

Or maybe it's because we go to that job interview where our vaginas are expected to answer the questions instead?

Or it's that we are relegated to taking minutes at work meetings even though our brains are capable of so much more?

Or perhaps again it's because sometimes we bring home the bread because the hunter hasn't caught game in a while.

Or because we become Daddy when he is too busy trying to hunt and pays no attention to anything else?

Or it's because we've lost our femininity in becoming the men we cannot find?

Please help me understand.

Yours Faithfully,

Woman.

You Choose the Title

A Case of Mistaken Identity or God don Catch You? 

There are all sorts of liaisons d'amour in the work place.

Open ones. Clandestine ones. Foolish ones.

But the most interesting of the three is...wait for it...

Yep, the clandestine ones.

When you find out about them.

And there are many ways to find out about them but I'd list just three.

1. Through gossip (When the office aproko tells you directly)

2. Through gossip (When the office aproko tells someone who tells you)

3. Through gossip  (When you become the aproko)

But sometimes, the earth stops rotating around the sun for one second and the gist travels through the milky way and network cables and falls straight unto your laps.

So, it's a long dreary day at work and my phone rings.

It's one of my bosses. I know because I have his number saved.

His voice is all sweet and tender which is super unusual. I do a double check on my phone screen to make sure I'm not mistaken.

He calls me by a different name (and I happen to know the lady who bears this name).

It instantly occurs to me what's going on.

I try to correct him but he is so lost in his tenderness he requires no interruption.

And he goes "I'm missing you babe. When can we see? I'm waiting for you at XYZ. Please start coming now, please..."

It's weird to hear Hercules sound like Talking Tom. Only slower. (You can download Talking Tom here)

I have to snap him out of it like super fast.

So I say "Sir, it's me oh! Emdee!"

And then I hear:

Oh my God. Then silence. Then click, as the line goes dead.

I put my phone down and I am wearing the largest smile.

I throw my head back and I laugh. A deep hearty laugh.

It's not such a long dreary day after all.

For some people, that is.

Is he really making a business call? But then again, what is your business, Aproko?

Humour from a child and from a letter to Sadiq Abacha.

So there’s a male visitor in the house and my 16 month old is feeling very generous.

He goes into the room, picks up my phone, takes it to the visitor and says “take” in baby dialect.

He comes back into the room (this time I am lying in bed), I see him rummage through a heap of clothes and then jet out of the room just as quickly as he came in.

I hear some laughter from the sitting room.

       And realization dawns on me.

It was my bra!



Illustration by me :)



PS: A child's imagination has no limits: your bra, their catapult. Please share any funny thing you have seen a child do.

You have got to read this!: http://ayosogunro.com/2014/03/05/to-sadiq-abacha-on-behalf-of-soyinka-by-ayo-sogunro/




EMBRACING MY GAP TEETH

My introduction would be incomplete without telling you about my gap teeth.

Diastema, open teeth, garage, window...call it what you may.

It has been a part of my identity for over 30 years.

It haunted me, plagued me, was instrumental to a poor self esteem in my teen and early 20s, left me mute when I'd rather be speaking, left tell tale signs if I ever bit into an apple, or a slice of bread or watermelon, stole my smile in photographs, put a hijab (my hand) over my mouth whenever I laughed...

Boy, I could go on and on.

My teeth all out smile

My gap teeth was (is) so wide I thought no man would ever find me attractive enough for marriage.

I thought, fantasized, day dreamed about closing it up.

But I didn't have that kind of money.

Then I got proposed to.

And I said yes.

And then I figured it didn't really matter after all.

Moral of the story: There's more to you than your perceived imperfections (Acne inclusive). People who love you, love you regardless. People who don't, don't. And true beauty really runs deep

PS: My son's also gap toothed (:

PPS: Someone out there truly thinks your shit poop smells like perfume.