Brown Xmas

Today is November 6 and guess what is ringing in my head?

:)C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S.

I have been singing Xmas carols in my head and I even adapted a popular oyinbo one to become naijarian. My adapted Xmas song goes thus...

I’m dreaming of a brown Christmas

Jut like the ones I used to know

Where the harmattan wind whistles

And children listen

To hear banger blasting near

I’m dreaming of a brown Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmas things be brown

This Woman, {not Udeme} is a Great Woman

She is the pride of her parents, the envy of her friends
She walks with her head tilted upwards with a well deserved pride
Her gait is evidence of her aristocratic status
When she opens her mouth, she speaks with much authority
And polishes her authority with the oil of humility
She is a source of joy to everyone around her

When she is dressed in her sparkling white nurse uniform
With matching white cap, white shoes and with a pen tucked in her breast pocket
She transforms to a God-sent angel and assumes different forms
Some families see her as a savior
Stepping in to ensure their loved ones remain on earth with them
To many doctors, nurses and para-medicals, she is mother
Rocking, nurturing, chastising and instructing

She never lays any complaint about her work conditions
According to her, every moment she is at her job
That is her breathing. That is her life
This makes every second counts
And every act, a conscientious and deliberate one

She leaves each duty be it morning or night in high spirits
Illuminating her face with beaming smiles
She returns home to gather her children round her
Relaying the day’s achievement with great thrill

She goes to bed fulfilled to awaken the next day
Burning with passion for her calling.


Hmm... all of the above is a description of who and what my mum, Esther Olaiya Obisesan would have been if her father had allowed her to go to school. She begged, cried and strove so that her father would send her to school but he maintained, 'school is for only for boys, the girls will remain on the farm'.

She wanted so badly to be a nurse. However, when she had the opportunity to start the journey to her dream after working as a housegirl, she gave it up for her younger sister. She sponsored her younger sister through school until she became the NURSE she always wanted to be.

Very sad part of the story: We lost the Nurse my mum never was, she died on March 26, 1999 leaving two kids and a husband behind.

Was Paid a Penny, So I'll say My Thot 2

My mum was raised a good girl by her mum
When she was raising me, she received instructions
From another good woman
So, she raised me a double good girl
And now, here is how I live

I labour so hard for everybody except one……..myself
I think so deeply about everybody except one…myself
I look out for everybody except one……………myself
I willingly sacrifice for everybody except one…myself
I adjust constantly for everybody except one…..myself

I can’t talk back when abused
Can’t shout back when shouted at
Can’t sulk when I feel bad
I have to smile when smiled at
Laugh when laughed at
And remain mute when no one else speaks

Am I proud of this product?

Was Paid a Penny, So I'll say My Thot

"When you try so hard to be good to people
You easily become a carpet for them to step upon"

Be a good person in the way God has created and molded you
Man does not deserve any alteration of your good person.

The Ailing Baby of the World

Africa is the ailing baby of the world
And her ailment is like HIV/AIDS
Where the disease can only be managed never cured
All that can be done is to administer anti-retroviral drugs
They can’t cure; they only reduce the viral load
Eat well and do not engage in strenuous activities, the patient is told

And when the patient bothers about child bearing, she is encouraged
Oh there is PMTCT, you can always give birth
Africa’s ailment is worse than HIV/AIDS
In her case, she did give birth to children and welcomed them into her ailing condition
Today, many of them do not want to identify with her body’s stink and rot
They run far crossing mountains, valleys and waters to get away from home

How did Africa ever get infected with this deadly disease?
The disease of poverty, corruption, poor governance and champion of worst practices
How can she be healed from it?
Maybe we should employ extortionists to drive out the disease demons.
Yes, one from a mosque bearing a rosary, another from a church bearing holy water, and maybe the fire-bearing Sango
They may succeed in appeasing the creator for Africa’s sake

For how long will this over 50 year old ailing baby continue to be nursed?
Some say Africa is so comfortable in her ailing state
She refuses to will herself back to health with her own willpower
She’d rather continue to lay on her sick bed enjoying the attention from her nurses
What happens when the familiar nurses retire and others take their place that do not know the fathers that oiled the relationship with the nurses
Just like the later days of the Israelites in Egypt
As there arose another Pharaoh that knew neither Samuel nor Jacob

Must the present nurses continue to cling on to this ailing baby on her sick bed
Never allowing her walk much less running
Must we continue to smile and laugh with this ailing child
Whilst she acts insolently with no respect for rule of law
Must we not smack this baby on the back and declare
YOU MUST STAND UP