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A LITERATURE REVIEW OF SEFI ATTA'S EVERYTHING GOOD WILL COME

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Everything Good Will Come is a story about a young Nigerian girl (Enitan Taiwo) and her friend (Sheri) growing up in Nigeria. A Bildungsroman, the period of writing spans between 1971 and 1995, when the military regime was in power. The book details Enitan growing up in Lagos-Nigeria while coping with the demands of the patriarchy all around her. Enitan’s parents are always at loggerheads. Her mother is a sadistic religious fanatic who took solace in religion after her son died of sickle cell. Her father is a manipulative lawyer and political commentator. The book records the various useless arguments between both parents and the strict demands they have of Enitan, particularly her mother. Her father stands in the way of his wife domesticating Enitan, resulting in her  loving her father and despising her mother. Enitan rebelliously becomes a friend to her next-door neighbour, Sheri, against her mother’s instruction. In certain instances, they catch Enitan befriending Sheri.
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Reminiscence

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I just got off a call with my dear mom, she'll be 61 in a few days. This time last year, we were planning a 60th birthday party. Time does fly. Talking with my mom everyday is a way we have built our friendship over the years, and I don't take any moment for granted. The gists, to talking about my life victories and cphallenges, and how to cook this and that, to talking about family, and gossiping about who is what, and praying. All of these are blessings, and I am thankful.  I spoke with both my parents this evening and I just got in my feelings, and when it happens like that, I go back to pictures.  I checked my Gallery and it's funny I remember everything that happened around the time each photo was taken. I want to share them all with people, and on the other hand, I don't want to. So I came here, I think anyone reading this is likely somebody I am comfortable sharing parts of my life with.  So enjoy 😉  December 2016. Was my first and last physical Chri
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Beautiful Woman

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Dear Shalom, Here are ten things I hope you never forget.  1. Late is man-made, there will always be time for all the good things. Awon Yoruba maa n so pe "omi ti eniyan ba ma mu, koni shun ko ja eni" 2. Change is inevitable, get used to it. 3. Your purpose is bigger than any physical thing, achievement or endorsements, your purpose is spiritual, do not step out of it. Wake up, run, work, eat, sleep, grind, repeat, is endless. Stay with what is eternal.  4. You're beautiful, and it's not that kind of way, that one that seeks to massage egos, it is a radiance that is bigger than what you can control.  Be confident in it. 5. It's OK if you want to leave this and go do something else, you'll come back to it again once you can. My favorite name ever is Shalom, my parents must have had foresight 😊 XOXO
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My Toyin Falola Submission: When will Ohinoyi become a woman?

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Ohinoyi, that's my name, and I do not want to tell a story about the “resilience of a woman," neither do I want to make a toast to strong women.” rather, I should write about how often I am told to raise my head high and walk tall because "I am a woman," when I only want to be a twenty-six-year-old who wants to eat and get a good sleep. Foremost, I do not think "strong women" or "resilience of a woman" are wrong or unnecessary, I think the rightness or wrongness of such terms would depend on their authors. I only wonder, would I hear such terms if say, I was not a woman, or if things were different for women? The last time I was told to "behave like a woman" was the day I ate in the open while I waited in a bank queue, this was two weeks ago.  I had wanted to arrive early at the bank so I could transact early enough and return to my other tasks. I couldn't have breakfast before leaving my home, so I bought ewa agoyin from a food
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The sun will rise again, and I will try again: Amala Edition

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Today, I failed 😞.  I mean, I don't want to be salty, but I've had a fair share of failures and bad results, so it's not entirely new to me. But, this experience , e pain me die.  What happened? I am an Ebira and Yoruba Nigerian girl, but for a long time, because of what I was taught as culture and norm, I was never referred to as a Yoruba girl, only Ebira. A language i can't even speak nor understand to save my life. Yoruba people were usually referred to as the local ones, so I was glad when people didn't identify me with the "local ones". I also enjoyed the attention that always comes with people finding out I speak Yoruba language fluently, and I enjoyed the comment about how I didn't have the accent. Like accent is a bad thing.  Here is the thing, gradually and by the day, I realize that people really  don't care about stuff or you or me that much. So, if I am complimented about my "non-Yoruba" accent this minute, it doesn't sto
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Life in Throwbacks

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Happy new year 2021! Life,  they say happens when we are busy making plans for it, and I have personally found that to be true to an extent. For example, the photo collage attached to this post has me, 3 years apart, doing the same thing; traveling by road to Abuja, Nigeria, and wearing braids😎. The first picture was taken in 2018, the beginning of my NYSC, and as I embarked on the Journey, I knew I wanted to be where I was headed, but I was nervous, really nervous. What is going to happen this one year? And the year after? How do I fit in to the Almighty Capital City? What if staying at my Uncle's becomes a total disaster? What's going to happen with my career? A Career that I don't even know what it is that I want. What of my parents? What if something happens to them while I'm away? The second picture was taken a few days go, with better conditions, better anticipation and more responsibility, and with resolve to make the most of time while I can.   Thos
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Father Moses

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It is Father's day; I know we hop on every holiday we find on this part of the world, I might just hop on this too. It is way past noon; I almost wrote nothing for my father, I did not feel like it. As the years go by, and I have to leave my father's bosom and set out on my own and all of those  adultish  things we do, I mostly miss growing up with him. I have probably said it a thousand times over that I wish I was twelve-years-old, but I am not, so I will not go into the details of all that right now.  By the way, in the year 2021, my first full-fledged novel would be published, and it would be a story about my amazing father. But today, I can share some of my most cherished moments with him.  Moses is the name my father adopted after he became Born Again, and he would write the name with such pride on every notepad he owned.  My Sister and I, while growing up, were dad's eyeballs, it was so clear. Yoruba people call mothers "abiyamo," and I, unfort
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