This soup won awards, I’m in my house, come and beat me.
Dear Nigerian Husband,
I’m beginning to feel sorry for you.
See while you’re still stacking and working hard to come pay bride price, it appears the stakes may be getting higher; you may need to work a tad bit harder. I’m this close to being worried that by the time you bring your people to meet my people, you may not be able to afford my bride price. Continue reading →
I know you’re a man of class. I’ve kept this away from you, kind of. But I was once a Danfo bus conductor. For a day.
Hang on, don’t crash the plane. Let me explain.
“If you no get change, no enter.”
If you’ve been to Lagos or have lived in Lagos and haven’t heard that sentence, your time in Lagos has been a waste.
When I “permanently” moved to Lagos on January 2, the thought of hopping into one of those Continue reading →
It’s exactly 366 days since I returned to Nigeria.
A few days ago, the Nigerian Husband and I laid on a blanket on the bare living room floor relaxing and he goes, “ So when was the last time you blogged?”
That got me thinking and hit me that I had actually let go of my love for writing. That question asked tactfully, birthed this blog post. You guys have this good man to thank.
Three hundred and ninety three days ago, my life changed.
See, before Hurricane Irma, my life in the Virgin Islands was pretty simple and chill: I woke up at about 7:30 a.m. to prepare for work and then leave for town with my Continue reading →