Wednesday, 26 August 2015

Diva? DIVA

Diriye Osman. Image sourced from

I told them my bit and dashed out

Impolite. Stunning

They tell me I’m girly

That I should walk like teerone

Hours of trials…I’m done

You take?



The Deep Internal Value Alabaster

Take that

Diva? Diva


Forget it

Damn it

Watch, applaud, curse or simply shut your eyes

I walk in the manner I do

I smile the way I do

I’m not your tool

And I’m definitely not your fool

I don’t live in your heart

So we have to word our take on parts

But I’m me and this my truth

Girly, fierce as brut

I'm a God believer

So honey, I’m a diva

Monday, 24 August 2015

The Risen Africa

Dear Africa,

It's with an excited heart that I write to you this morning. There has never been so much realisation of variety of perceptions than that which I had yesterday and which will continue for the rest of the week. Presently at the Advanced Human Rights Course on Rights to Development in Africa which is put together by the Centre for Human Rights, Faculty of Law, University of Pretoria, I'm learning quite a lot. As we go on, I share as much as I can with you.

Yesterday was the first day of the course, and we were introduced to the Human Right to Development. We tried to describe development. So many jurists from the past and present had a lot to say on the subject. A few of them, interestingly had views that were not so conventional. And because human rights should be inalienable, development as a right is difficult to generally conceptualise. Nonetheless, we were told that in as much as most of the world still finds such a right hard to concpetualise let alone embrace, Africa has recognised this right as a legal one and as such worthy of legal protection. This is why there is the United Nations Declaration on Right to Development which merely serves as a codification, and very much an inconsequential outline of what the Right to Development should translate to the world and on the other hand there is the African Charter on Human and Peoples Rights which serves as a binding legal document on all of Africa states which have ratified it.

Evidently Africa has the structure for the preservation of human rights but the implemention is the major problem.

For the first time, I came to respect that Africans have a unique way of expressing almost everything. That's why most of our development can not truly be measured with conventional intellectual parameters. And perhaps, the more we measure our development against the western standards the more ignorant we might make ourselves of the fact that varied cultures come with varied versions that determined varied realities.That the fact that we attracted more investors this year more than we did last year does not necessarily mean that we are growing as a people because influx of investors  often translate to enforcing strict investment policies which often do not consider the people sought to be developed.

Yesterday I came to the understanding that in Africa, human rights may not just be inalienable privileges endowed by nature on man, but inalienable stakes bestowed on man, in the burdens and benefits that are domicile in the life and circumstances available and plausible. For now, I'm led to believe that development is the continuous and sustainable access to an progressively improving ' as much as possible'.

Today promises alot more. I'll get back to you soon.

Warm regards,

Saturday, 15 August 2015

Let Me Dance For You

Let me dance for you
Like a lover would dance for her beloved
Let me sway my hips as I raise my brows
And perhaps wink once or twice while I clap
The Late Peter Bello: Pilot and Photographer

Let the ikpos rattle on my ankle
While the jigida mystifies my waist
And please don’t be coy
Let your heart flirt with the thoughts of loving me
Like me, dart around like a tsunami
And make you dizzy with enchantment
Let me have a breath of your air
And make you stiff with flare
Let your eyes wonder between my thighs
And hands crave to feel the dazzle on my chest
Let me dance for you
For the music is yours to make
But let me dance for you
And you just sit and stare
Let me dance for you
While we are both alive and here
Let’s not leave this beauty to an unhappened memory
Don’t be scared
Let me dance for you
Let me sing my song and make you cry
Let all my magic be alive
Like a lover in her zest
Like a man who has reached his best
Let me dance for you
Let me touch the sky


Iska Flames

Dear Iska,

I swear I'll never tell them about this place. I'll never tell them about that one time you ran out at midnight because you were scared of the monster within you. I'll never tell them that you are not really superman. They say that friendship and love are all it costs to heal the world. No one said anything about blindness and sacrifice. No one said that we would have to turn into echos of the dreams that once consumed us. Perhaps those same dreams that now exhaust us.

They would look at us as though we had something clandestine to protect. But our secret mocked them because we were all we were. And to think that I was the craziest of the bunch. The one that was neither pretty nor perfect. The one who was crazy about math but could not figure out chemistry, the boy who did not know how to swim. ' Danjuma!' you would always say 'you have me in you, so must be exceptional.'

I'll never tell them that you planned to disappear because you could not stand your reflection. And that you would spend the rest of your life running from yourself, and perhaps that the open secrets that mocked you in the face also mocked me.

Often I ask myself, a decade later. I ask my heart to appraise you. And whether this hatred is all my love for you should become. If this anger is all my fondness should melt into. It's not as though I forget to pray for you. That God should bless all the giftings of your heart and the destinations of your feet. It's not as though my heart forgets to measure every hint of love against the memory of you. But it'll never be easy to keep a secret. Even while I'll never tell them of this place. I'll never let them know that Iska isn't just my disease, it's my charm, my freedom.

Do you think you can forgive my writing to you? Do you think you can forgive my loving you, and the fact that I'll never stop.

You can proceed all you want to celebrate. I have not been able to. All the tastes and textures of pleasure taste like ash. Like the remains of a sky I have conquered before. I'm bored. I'm completed. Like I have seen better, and the thought of settling for less than makes me feel as though I am dying.

But it's life and we can' t have all want except we want it the most.

I'll never tell them. So your secret is safe. But I know I love you. I know you are not superman, and that's not a bad thing.

Remain strong,

Auntim Jane...She always begins with ‘hmmm, look at you.’

You take. You take. You take from yourself till there is nothing left to listen to when you retire to your bed at night. You give yourself t...