Living on A Geek's Life

Prodigal Benefits and a Reflection on Spring Cleaning...

Sun, 16 Apr 2023 09:47:58 +0000

Cake with I, somewhere on a humid Lagos afternoon

Being a prodigal abroad, in a relatively small, close knit expat community has its perks, not least if you are Nigerian. Truth be told, more often than not, there is a risk of private spaces being invaded, but when they come through, they come through spectacularly. The most recent example of this was Easter Sunday, on which after dragging myself home from work my late evening reverie was interrupted by persistent knocking. At the door was M, the matronly mother figure from three streets over, with a bowl of piping hot egusi soup, some swallow and a tub of fried rice in tow. Whatever misgivings simmered beneath the surface at the intrusion vanished very quickly, wafting away as though borne by the steam still rising from the bowls of food.

On Lights, Language and that (c)old December Weather

Sat, 19 Dec 2020 02:18:00 +0000

Photo by Lawless Capture on Unsplash

In about as low key a manner as could be, lights - I won’t go so far as to call them Christmas lights - are slowly making their way on to trees around me. That they first turned up in front of the communal lounge and then a few houses here and there complete with inflatable Santas made me think they were put up by individuals. I am no longer so sure of that, given that some lights turned up on the tree in the middle of no man’s land in front of my house. Lights apart, you would have no inkling it was a week to Christmas - work continues apace and the only official holiday is the 3rd of January. For all the sameness that living in the bubble I live in seems to cultivate, it is these little differences that drive home the realities now and again. The positive is that I get to take the days off when I want which, all things being equal, should be soon-ish.

What Mother Said

Wed, 16 Sep 2020 18:32:39 +0000

Photo by Bruno Nascimento on Unsplash. For Young J who stuttered (and still does now and again in moments of overexcitement)…

Don’t let this be a big thing. Don’t let the tyranny of a lost word hovering just beyond the reach of your tired tongue drag you to the edge of self-immolation.

Cherish the bitten lower lip, the lisp when the words - like a pent up flood breaching the edge of a levee - finally come.