Tee's Musings

*Image by John Towner via unsplash.com* Depressed, are you? Sad, are you not? The year is ending...goals left unachieved but you are not alone Disappointed, are you? Discouraged, are you not another year over... still no job Look around... you are not alone.. Dejected, are you? Sorrowful, are you not? another year gone...taking with it a loved one... You are not alone Frustrated, are you? Tired, are you not? a year older...yet unmarried You are not alone Resigned, are you? Given up, have you not? with so much hope you began Yet, the year ends with hope dwindling Nothing to be thankful for, you think no achievement... no strides Hope lost...nothing but darkness Convinced that light will never return We are here... you are not alone Darkness but for a while... light will return Know... there is always hope Hold on... we are with you Look up... look around Look for cracks in the wall of hopelessness Light is there...You just have to look. ...

Dear Asamu, Agbeke came to see me last week, she was heartbroken. Did she tell you that her relationship with Kukoyi ended last month? Her usually smiling eyes were filled with poorly concealed sadness, so I asked her if she had cried. But she looked at me like I had two heads. Asamu, has she cried yet?

For a long time, my image of myself was of a 'fair skinned girl', I didn't know how wrong this perception was until much later.

As a little girl, I cared so much about how I was perceived,being liked was very important ... and so some of the things I did were influenced by how desperate I was to be accepted and liked. But somehow I grew from that young girl who so desperately wanted to be liked to a young lady whose answer to 'Will they like me' is always 'what's there not to like'. This answer isn't out of conceit but out of a realisation that the only reason I cared so much about whether others liked me or not was because I didn't like myself enough and so that validation from others mattered to me. I have since then sat and thought about which of these individuals gave me more peace and security, and it was of course the 'young lady'... the one who grew into her own and finally realised that she was, is and will always be something magical... as long as she sees it. Now I know that all it takes is a little love from me to ME, and that by simply projecting that l...

Everyday, I wondered... maybe love wasn't all they want. But what do they really want? Ibidunni was an angel... He began and she was mine

What do they really want? She asked me But I had no answer... Only many unanswered questions Alagbe said he loved me... she began

I recently heard that Japanese do not throw away broken bowls, instead, they fix it by filling the cracks with gold, creating a beautiful lining. They do this not just for fixing sake, but more than anything to depict the beauty in what once was broken. They believe damaged things have a history... a history that makes them more beautiful.

They came They took our land…our lives They took our inheritance…our heritage They took our culture…our tradition They took our history…our identity

I hear you as I walk past I hear the cat calls Sometimes I pretend I do not understand But I do. I hear the 'baby'... I hear 'omo ele' I hear the whistling, I hear the 'mama' I hear it all

They say all Ijebu men are naturally stingy and Adedeji is an Ijebu prince. They say Chinedu's 'greedy' love for money is an Ibo trait They say Yoruba men are lazy, that their wives feed them, so let’s leave Akanni alone to sleep and eat. They say Danladi was once humble, that it is the money that changed him. But...but I'm confused...

If I were to write a story of my life; of where I have been and where I am, there are characters that will feature prominently but there are also ones who I will not remember to add. They are the hidden figures in my life; often forgotten even though they shouldn’t be, for they are very important.

                                                            By Damilare Awe It really isn't a ring It's a deceit wrapped around your finger One that is bound to block all suitors that will come your way

I was angry, more than I had ever been in my life, my hands were shaking, I heard myself saying things I wouldn’t normally say. I was out of control. I couldn’t believe this angry person was me. I must be under some kind of influence but it turns out that the only influence I was under was anger, extreme anger… and it was my first.

To those who were strong enough to let go.... and to you who need the strength...

A glimpse of the childhood i really do miss....

                      Written  by a 'babygeh' Damilare Awe... a phenomenal writer It's that time of the year again where the family gathers in Pa Ajayi's only painted house. My dearest Grandfather, he makes all things bright and shiny. The time we all have to be thankful, the famous reunion of the family. The time I see my cousin's cousin and more. The time we are all happy to see each other except for Uncle Ladi though, who is almost 40 but is still single.

Is it enough? maybe it is... maybe not... You decide! Oh! and let me know your thought...

Written by @TimiTomi... a quiet but great writer... We heard the cry no more Today it was silent as a grave The bitter smell of death filled the air Perhaps if we had knocked Every other night before this quiet tuesday The noise, the cry, the wailings was there. The shattering sounds of broken china The noise of pictures falling off the wall. Mr Femi is beating his wife again. Little Alice is crying as usual, And Daniel is shouting amidst his tears, Daddy please stop!!! Of course I hear the cry and the shouting of the woman, Mr Femi's flat is right above mine. I roll over and cover my ears with my pillow, And pretend to sleep Well, just like everyone in this compound. Afterall it's their private business and this is Lagos! Today we didn't hear her cry for so long, The cry was short,lingered on for a bit And we heard it no more. We are all dressed in black as good neighbors. Daniel and baby Alice have lost their mother We could have knocked W...

For those who want answers...Ajadi has spoken...

For lovers of poetry...and those who can't stand it

One truth every lover of good shoes know is that the cuter the shoe looks on you, the more painful it is. But to the bystander or friend who compliments you, all they see is beauty, they do not see the perfectly concealed pain beneath that beauty.

I remember growing up having a lot of plans; plans about what I will do or must have achieved by a certain age. I can still hear my siblings and I talking about being in JJS 1 by age 11, SS3 by age 16. We also planned to get into the university immediately and study a particular course, graduate, and then get a job and get married. All of our plans had a time (age) stamp. We had no doubt that it would all happen as planned, and that anticipation made us so happy.

My dear friend, I hope you are well. Hope your arm has healed? I still cannot get our last conversation out of my mind o. I have thought about all you said, and I doubt I will ever understand why you insist on covering it all up. Why do you keep hiding beneath your beautiful makeup? We may not see what’s beneath, but you do, and when you clean off that makeup, all you have covered is laid bare.

Ojuloge!!! What happened to you? When they advised you to use what you have to get what you want, they were not talking about your body.

People of colour? Yes, I am black maybe brown and it's a colour,  so maybe I'm really 'people of colour' But They tell me that the ones I call 'oyinbo' are just simply white people So I told my dear friend Asake that white was not a colour Just last week, Teacher said 'white' was the 'colour' of her wedding dress Now, I no longer know if what I told Asake was right If white is a colour, then they were wrong... The ones I call Oyinbo are indeed also people of colour I must go to Asake after school I must tell her that 'white' is a colour...  that we are all people of colour... just different colours.

My dear Abike, I hope this letter meets you well. I have heard of the troubles you are facing at work. I can only imagine what you go through in such a male dominated profession and I know how much work you put in, just to show that you are just as good, if not better.  But who told you that you deserve to be made managing partner at your firm just because you are female?

  I have read many things about Dr. Martin Luther King Jnr, and I admire everything about him; his imperfections inclusive. As exceptional as I think he was, he understood what inferiority complex is. He described it as one of the most stagnating, strangulating and crushing conditions of the human personality. This ‘on point’ description can

I first heard “INFERIORITY COMPLEX” from the new boy in SS1, he ‘kindly’ asked a fellow classmate if she had an inferiority complex. We had no idea what that meant, but she rolled her eyes at him anyways… it could be some disease o… so we  consulted a dictionary.

‘Men are so bad! Very immature! No respect for women! ‘ That’s all we seem to be wasting our roundtable discussion on. We forget to have a round table discussion on how disappointing and unladylike some ladies have become.  I can’t help but think maybe some wires were not joined right, or some nuts were simply not properly screwed, or what other defects aside from these can be the reason why a beautiful (educated or not) young lady becomes helpless the moment

By Adepeju Answer Adeosun She swept her eyes through the waiting room, she gasped at the number of people sitting on the long benches waiting to consult a doctor. I wonder where Dayo gets the energy to do all this, running his own clinic and still working here! She was jotted back to reality by the loud laughter of two guys standing at the table where cards were being written. She shrugged. After a while, the 'card writing lady' started calling out names and divided them into three groups. She faced Enitan’s group

Ladies of the night Scantily clad… Wares in different sizes Standing by the roadside…in the dark of the night Ladies of the night Heavily perfumed… Face heavily pancaked Eagerly waiting Readjusting wares…when he approaches Ladies of the night Old and young…brown and black Sitting by the roadside…. legs so weary Standing eagerly…when he approaches

by Adepeju Answer Adeosun Enitan drove into the premises of the Federal Medical Centre; she drove towards the car park and found an empty space and drove straight in. She never liked a hospital; she hates the “hospital odour”. “The thickness of the ever present smell of antiseptics, drugs, disinfectants and sanitizers nauseates me.” She has no idea where to go first. She walked towards one of the buildings with doubt clearly written on her face. I think I should just ask someone for directions . Quickly, she scanned the environment and noticed an elderly woman

Today, I went to visit my old friend who just got back from the USA where she had been for two years. She was no longer the girl I grew up with, she now speaks differently. I honestly wasn’t sure how many accents I heard within the 2 hours I spent with her. Just when I start getting comfortable with her American accent, I hear a trace of British and some other accents I still can’t seem to figure out.

How exactly does one find a man who combines ‘intelligence’ with ‘simple class’?                                I am a single girl living in Lagos among fellow ‘single to stupor’ ladies. We’ve all had relationships that ended (that story is for another day), we have moved on and ready to get back out there, but these men are just so scarce. I am not talking about just any guy, the type that merely live in a man’s body but are still boys, because believe me, those are everywhere. Contrary to what you are thinking right now, we are not choosy, we just simply won’t settle for just anybody.  I have met those ‘boys’ who till today, I’m still in awe of how lame they are.  Ok, maybe you will understand now; Take for example