Fragments

Chips and shards of a once brittle artifact.

[observando]

We have to endure the discordance between imagination and fact. It is better to say, ‘I am suffering,’ than to say, 'This landscape is ugly.’

Simone Weil (via observando)

[coffee-and-quotes]

I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via coffee-and-quotes)

[thenigerianstoryteller]

Laos Street

He had stopped to take notice, maybe if he hadn’t glimpsed of the small miracle that day, his life may have gone on unchanged, he could have gone on to become whatever, be whoever, but he found one of these infinite possibilities, he stopped on the long winding road and decided to pause. The settling was done on a cold night in Laos street, under the shaky orange glow of street lights. Chuka…

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[thenigerianstoryteller]

Being the sceptic that I am, I still acknowledge how extraordinary everything is, and I mean every single creation and consequence of existing. From the decisions we make to the rejections that shape us, the tiny things, the large ones. I acknowledge that in every situation there are infinite possibilities, the stories are everywhere if we listen; I wasn't admitted into the program but scored this cool job while waiting, I learned more when I got into that, I learnt independence from loss, resilience from failure. The point is we have to be willing to see the magic of everyday life, the miracles we have been desensitised to, to realise that what we have and what we don't have can shape us and perhaps, that we can shape it too. Realising our potential to react is probably the greatest force of all, we become aware that we are able to transcend where we are, what we're doing, that we own ourselves and our stories, that we are able to control our own perception, not let who we are defeat us. That each day is not just where we presently are, but a drop in the ocean, an inch closer to who we become. - On being life's student.

[thenigerianstoryteller]

Road side visions

Mama Biola settled in a red plastic chair on the pavement right beside the intersection leading out of Florence street. The street had grown and taken up a distinct character over the years. Driving in, you would find brown brick three-story buildings, the spaces between them uniform and precise, that existed before the owners started to tweak and tweak until some balconies were made of glass. A…

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[blindlyobsessed]

Want to make large gaps disappear? Live like it’s an instinct.

[thenigerianstoryteller]

Let me tell you a story... (After Bessie Head)

Let me tell you a story… (After Bessie Head)

We are at a wedding, there’s beautiful white light sparkling from the floor, the fountains seem to be pouring white light with the water, the white tablecloths are lined with gold, and there are over a hundred people in the large hall, most holding champagne flutes. Men dressed in white agbadas, women in tight dresses and expensive geles. We sit close to the stage, at a table seating 10, a card…

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[thenigerianstoryteller]

Building sand castles on windy days. -Six Word Memoir.

[thenigerianstoryteller]

I spend too much time on the internet, from minutes spent with envy or just creepily stalking that person I find annoying or intelligent or both, to the many hours spent poring over wisdom posts and advice that feels good to read, and also seems reasonable to follow. It seems valid to chase your dreams and stay true to yourself, but sometimes a voice of reason warns me that the advice does not translate to Nigerian, like there’s a special language in which hope can be spelled and my language contains no vowels, like there are letters missing to properly fulfill dreams, to build anything from just inspiration and to remind me that even great advice is impervious to the Nigerian sun, fuel hike and forex wahala.

_ Trying to write on medium https://medium.com/@dam_fak/time-to-give-up-or-what-nigeria-told-me-in-2016-or-i-guess-im-no-longer-a-nihilist-3440131ef919#.d4it92dct

[thenigerianstoryteller]

Brat Memories

There’s something about wounds that do not leave scars, something about pain that refuses to be made evident, about glass that chips and cracks but does not fall apart. The seemingly almost perfect story that belongs to so many it’s no longer just one story, the story that spans across cultures, individuals, noticeable in phrases like “I’m fine” (muttered on the way from visiting a sick mother).…

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[thenigerianstoryteller]

The thing about wounds that refuse to make themselves known, that defy the custom of leaving scars is that you can never tell exactly where you’re hurting or how much.

TheNigerianStoryteller

[thenigerianstoryteller]

Remember that some days the ceilings are there to protect you from rain, and on some other days, they prevent you from gazing at the stars. I hope you remember that sometimes good intentions are limiting.

More reasons to stay young and foolish, Thenigerianstoryteller.

[thenigerianstoryteller]

I think there’s a kind of soul searching that grows out of the restlessness you experience post-university in Nigeria. For many, there’s this long period of waiting where no one tells you what you’re supposed to be doing, and you don't know what you’re supposed to be doing so, you’re waking up restless and becoming a poet, and like the curious person you are, without realizing you spend your days searching for something, God, stories, books, sex, older men, free cocktails in bars past midnight, sex.

- Musings From Post-University Days

[thenigerianstoryteller]

The women in my family pass down open arms, thick arms spread open for men marching in and out. We were never taught the word ‘No’. Never told that the world would trample you with its heaviness if you let it. That men have been allowed, been taught to take and take and stay till it consumes you. That there will be catcalls in daylight, that you don’t have to smile back at every stranger because many of them are bodies and sharp teeth.

That ‘No’ too is as important.

- A Generation of Open Arms, Thenigerianstoryteller.

[blindlyobsessed]

Forgive yourself for reaching for the pills, for saying everything was hopeless, for staring in the mirror for too long, for pinching flesh between your fingers, cupping flesh in handfuls, for wishing it all away. For wishing you away.

Forgive yourself for all the times you believed you were not worthy of love, for the times you called yourself lucky for being remembered by some boy. For wanting that boy, for only existing whenever he texted, for living for someone else.

I hope you remember that there is no shame in starting over. That you find the courage to be patient with yourself.

- Prayers Past Midnight.

[thenigerianstoryteller]

Smoke

I was an idiot a year ago. When I try to evaluate how time has gone by, I’m not sure I consider the things that matter. I turned 27 and there’s a subtle you’re running out of time as permanent background noise. Over every phone call, at every visit. It’s become embarrassing. The well-meaning relatives who spill out prayers, I remember Mama Dele, prayers oozing from her belly, her hands around…

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[thenigerianstoryteller]

Looking like he came to liberate the people. Love Always.