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  The first time I recognized I had the “H-factor” as a young Yoruba woman was in an English language class in my senior year of secondary school. I’m not sure who first used this term or how they came up with it, but that’s what they call it. Perhaps on purpose, our teacher had called out terms for us to spell correctly in our notebooks; words like eight, ate, hate, hair, air, hear, and ear, to mention a few. I was convinced I would ace the test, but not until he started to make corrections and I was puzzled. I had gotten almost everything wrong, and I could not understand why or how, until my classmate, Ronke, pointed out to me that we had heard wrongly because we had the ‘H-factor’. Ronke had, in fact, scored ten out of ten. English major in the actual mud. As a non-Nigerian (non-Yorubas should understand what this means, but for those who do not), having the ‘H- factor’ as a Yoruba person means you put the alphabet H anywhere you find a vowel. This means I could tell someone ‘...

                                                              Photo by Eyasu Etsub on Unsplash 'It has pleased God to call your Dad home'. I went cold. My arms and feet. January 22nd, 2021 I was on my way home from work when my brother called. He asked for our family -read government- hospital card number. It was a very odd question because my dad had retired -as a civil worker- and we no longer used the card for consultation. In fact, we had been told on several occasions that they had taken his card 'off the shelf'. Besides my brother had his own card at the same hospital, being a government staff. So the question was very weird on all fronts.  I told him I could not remember the exact number but gave him two or three numbers that came to my head at that time. I asked what the problem was and he s...

December 31st, 2017. The time is 10:15. My Mum, brother and I are waiting for a couple of minutes to pass by before going to the church just beside my house for the annual cross over service into 2018. My Mum’s phone rings. I pick it up and see that it’s my Aunty. ‘Oh she has even called several times. How didn’t we hear?’ I muttered to myself in Yoruba, my native language. I hurriedly make my way to my Mum’s room to give the phone to her. ‘Mummy’, I say softly a couple of times before giving her the phone. ‘Mummy Branco n pe yin ’ Mummy Branco is calling you. Mummy Branco is what we call my Aunty by. Most people know her as my second Mummy, which is very correct.  I watch as my Mum answers the call, definitely still sleepy. Her voice and eyes would clear in seconds when I hear her say ‘Ehn!’ in a high pitch. I definitely knew something was wrong. She hurriedly hangs up and shouts that my Aunty’s husband is in the hospital and on life support and we had to leave immediately. I...

Re-introduction Hi! My name is Tobi Ojenike. Welcome (back) to my blog. In a bid to get this blog back on its feet, I have decided to share my Youth Service year story here. This is the ‘plainest’ I can get and the words used here are exactly how I felt. And I lost most of the pictures but I’ll put up some of them that I could find.  Before Camp I had always wanted to serve in Abuja. I would tell anyone who cared to listen that I wanted to go to Abuja. So, when I was filling out the online form, I chose all the Northern states, that I had visited, except Abuja, hoping I’d get posted there. Eventually, I was posted to Adamawa State. I was numb when I saw the posting, I was neither happy nor sad. I knew that whatever I did at that point mattered less and I would have to go to the mandatory three-week camp. However, my camp was in Bauchi State. So I did not really go to Adamawa till the end of my service year 😉   Service year started from January, 16th to be pre...

It had been two months since I last heard from 'Lolu, again. Yes, again! He was fond of not keeping in touch and blaming it​ on me. So this time, I was not surprised. I was expecting it, especially after I literally here him out of my hotel room. In an unusual way, I was getting used to it. I was getting used to not having spoken to him in what I considered to be a really long time.   I had been deep in thought after I told him to leave my hotel room that day. A million and one thoughts flew through my head; ranging from how much of Akinlolu's disrespect I had put up with over the years, how it took me so long to realize this to how I boldly confronted him and asked him to leave me and my life.   The deed had been done and thinking about it was not going to change anything, so I turned off my phone and went to bed. Eleven am the next morning, I was on a flight bound to Lagos from Abuja. I was pleased to an extent, that I would be away from Akinlolu for a while.  that I...

Hello. So I decided to switch things up for the blog and I came up with this topic. I had a chat with three guys on a series of What Would you Do' questions? All usernames are Twitter handles. The guys: Bolu Ayeye-  @bolu_ay Timi Badiru-  @timi_alli Tobi Kode-  @fxckore 1. What would you do if you caught your best friend in bed with your babe? Bolu- It's over. I'd cut them both off, tho I'd find out when it started and how it happened. I'm a curious person Timi- I won't talk to any of them again Tobi- Wow, that one is sure going to be hard and painful. I'll break up with her. Over time I would settle with my best friend 2. What would you do if you walk into a restaurant and the person you're supposed to see is on a date with someone else? Bolu- Lmao, I'd call the person and ask what happened or excuse the person and ask. No point making a scene, it's hard to swallow sha. Timi- Wow. I will text her or still walk up to her if she's...

'What are you doing here?', was all I could say when I saw 'Lolu at the doorway of my hotel room. I was surprised to see him. We had not spoken in almost two weeks and I had not informed him of the show I was hosting that evening. Running through my mind was how he knew where I was and how the hotel staff let him in, without even informing me. I suddenly realized I was in my bath robe which cut low to my belly button. I let go of the door and held on to my robe. 'Is that how you say hi to your boyfriend whom you have not spoken to in two weeks?'. He paved his way inside and sat on my bed. His right elbow had been on the doorpost with his head down which for a moment had me thinking he was not okay, until he raised his head and came into the room. 'Well technically, you are not my boyfriend', I said as I turned to him. Realizing I was almost naked with the door open, I quickly shut the door behind me. The tiles felt very cold. I did not know if it was the a...