TeeWai

Completely exhausted she looks through her itinerary for the next day, dreading sleep as the sound of her alarm in the morning reminds her how little she had to sleep and how another day beckons with its needs, demands, choices, challenges and gifts. She wonders why life seems so fast lately and conversations seem so empty. She looks through her phone, scanning the chit chats, gossip, sensual jokes, political comments and internet feuds. Hissing at the emptiness of it all, postponing her replies to her best friend she drags her duvet over her tired body and curls up in her usual style in an attempt to find sleep. The soft tune of her favourite ring tone, jolts her back to reality as she reaches for the phone and reluctantly picks the call; wondering who will call her at this time with an unfamiliar number. Hello, who is this please? Its Gina a pleasant and familiar voice replies at the other end of the call. Scanning her head, she recalls it’s her childhood friend whose number she ...

Totally glad to have my daddy back from his trip, I sit on his leg eagerly waiting for my goodies. He opens his bag and brings out a pack of my favourite snacks. Excitedly, I grab the gift bag and rush off to my best spot in the house to enjoy my spoils. As I unwrap the first snack, reaching for my first bite mummy rushes towards me and grabs it out of my hands. Unfair! She doesn’t say a word for a while and I wonder what I had done this time as she looks at me anticipating something. My room must be scattered again, I thought to myself. Seeing as I was still silent, she sighs and speaks up, T girl, what do you say to Daddy? Then the realisation hit my small head, here we going again! I had been trying to master this routine to no avail. Trying to stay straight faced, I quickly say, sorry mum. Rushing into daddy’s arms, I scream ‘thank you daddy’. I marvel at how we all teach this and were taught but our reality is farfetched as we grow older. We complain more than we acknowledge t...

I had the privilege to visit an orphanage recently, and the experience was humbling, exciting, emotional and altogether fulfilling. I met such happy and beautiful kids. One child stood out as she touched my humanity in a way I don’t encounter every day. Her name; Miracle. She is a beautiful girl who can neither walk, talk nor hear. I noticed her gently move her shoulder to the music and I wondered if she was hopping excitedly around like the other kids in her mind. She seemed accustomed to sitting on one spot all day. Her eyes spoke a thousand words, as I sensed her acceptance of her reality. While others jumped, hugged, danced and sang, she just watched smiled slightly and mostly had a straight face. I wondered if she was used to everyone reaching out to them and waving at her from a distance. As I moved closer to her, I reached for her cheeks, and she smiled. That smile could light up a room. It brought me to tears. And no, I don’t cry that easily. I sat by her and held her hands ...

ME: God, I have a few things I need to speak to you about. Lately, you just feel so far. Allowing me go through so much on my own. GOD: hmmmmmm ME: My life is crazy, I look in the mirror and all I see are pieces of me, like a tale told by different narrators. I feel torn apart. And you say hmmmmm? GOD: What will you rather I said? ME: That I will be fine! That you will fix me! That I am worth more than I feel! That my life will count…..you feel me? GOD: Feel you? I made you! I have said all those to you already and much more. When last did you take a look at my words to you? My attempt to remind you is silenced by your self-doubt and the falsehood of what you call reality. I foresaw your pain and I made provision in advance. ME: Why is it so hard then? GOD: Well that’s because that’s all you are looking at, so that’s all you can see. ME: easy for you to say, am the one who feels the shame, fear, guilt, hurt and emptiness. You just stay there being almighty and perfect. GOD: I...

I was told to ride on a bicycle, I needed to be guided, yet there was no one to teach me. I was told even the best riders had to fall and be injured many times to perfect the art. Every day I stood before it, walked by it, dragged along on it, picturing myself riding it but too afraid to suspend my feet and dare to truly ride……Plus it wasn’t even my bike! I will sleep off many nights and dream of cycling with friends. Days passed….and one of those days I took the bicycle; today was different, my visit was going to be over by the next two days and I was yet to ride the first bicycle I had close access to. Full of thoughts and mixed feelings, it occurred to me I had just ridden on it for 30 seconds without realising and the moment I realised, the fears came flooding in and then I fell, it was a bad fall with a good lesson. The very next day, I had a choice to never ride again for fear of falling again, or ride till I never fell again…..I chose the latter and I never fell aga...

So I got this idea off a piece I read, I thought it may just be therapeutic. So it got me thinking, if I had a chance to sit before the girl I was, what will I tell her? So I decided to write her this letter... Dear Oluwatoyin, I have many things to tell you. For starters, I am known as TeeWai this days, I bet you didn’t see that one coming. I hope you think it’s cute? Recently, on my bbm (that is a telephone device that connects me to all my valued friends), I asked if they felt you will be proud of the woman I have become, I got a lot of feedback from loved ones. Many people actually affirmed that you will be and they reminded me many reasons why. So I will gist you about a few. Let me first say that half the things you feared never happened. Plus, the society has changed, most things you held dear are now termed 'old school' . Your best dress is laughable this days or at best referred to as 'vintage' . So, back to your fears... you know how you hate ...

There used to be a time when I will get into frantic arguments choosing to see the light at the end of the tunnel, other times I sought and created justification for the mindless corruption that we wallow in. Other times I cry, in my heart at least and pray for change as farfetched as it appears. I have gone past weeping; because I have my realities staring me in the face after I wipe the tears. The pain is not new, it’s just all too familiar and never goes away, that used to unnerve me; these days I am just numb. I read the headlines and ignore the content because it is yet another celebration of corruption or an open show of man’s inhumanity to man. How can optimal electricity, education, health, mean so little and mindless feuds and ambition for more power in the midst of power for a time that you are yet to ascertain you will live to see mean more? How can any one person have the power to make change and choose the cowardice of chasing shadows and running in circles over actua...