First Things First

Laughs & Lamentations

Got so much I have wanted to blog about this summer but time and other stuff have got in the way. I promise those will come later.I write this blog lying down on my bed, eating plantain chips and drinking OJ, I’m currently thinking about how overwhelming work has been these last two weeks  so I’ve given myself 20 minutes to finish this post. This is a long overdue blog about me finally achieving the thing I came to uni in this country to do, get a first.

“Are they out yet?”, my Polish room mate and friend, Szymon asked. “Nah”, I said, “I just checked it like 3 minutes ago”. “Oh shit, they’re out. I got a first. I actually did really well. Go on Bob-Soile (got to hear him pronounce this haha) check your. This is your year, man”.  My heart was pounding, I finally opened the page and…

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It doesn’t make sense. (Testimony time)

Ms Alheri

It doesn’t make sense that I’m sitting here, in front of a beautiful lake, admiring the creation of the Lord. No, not the admiration part, the sitting in front of a lake part.

It doesn’t make all my expenses are paid, and all I have to do is read my bible and books, write and just be.

Neither does it makes sense that I have an internship this summer where I’m earning in one month, what I earned in thirteen weeks last year.

I thought I had seen it all.

I have shared a few testimonies on this blog before. I have written the good things that the Lord has done for me, I have told you all how it doesn’t make sense that I’m where I am today.

I don’t get it, I just do not.

I rarely talk about the things that I do to keep my relationship with…

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What Lagos Does To You


The conductor’s tribal marks – three long horizontal lines across each cheek – along with his wild eyes and scraggly beard, make him look like a tiger. The bus is full, so he supports himself against the door frame while collecting money from passengers. He does this as the bus speeds down the expressway, all the while calling out as we near every stop.

When I came to Lagos, I was always amazed – and worried – at how fast danfos go along this road, especially when there are bus stops every few hundred meters. Everyone else ever seemed to be used to it. The possibility of accidents definitely didn’t frighten them as much as it did me. The fear of labelling myself an outsider is the only thing that kept me from screaming every time a bus I was on shook or lurched, or almost crashed into another vehicle…

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Concert Dreams, Cheddar Bay Budget

R. Eric Thomas

Dear Beyonce,

Ma’am. Ma’am! I did not realize the registration fee for the revolution was going to be so high.

cryingwhiletyping Me logged on to Ticketmaster

First of all, thank you. You are a phenomenal performer, businessperson, icon and GIF-factory. We are lucky to share the Earth with you.

Second of all, what the fuck are you doing charging me all this money for your concert? Where am I supposed to get the scratch to pay for your Givenchy-brand event? Can I pay in Frank’s Red Hot? Do you take Red Lobster gift cards? Do you?


No. You do not.


I, like many of my compatriots, am woke af. Now. This morning I greeted my fiance with a hearty “Black Power!” (He is white. This was awkward. Yes we can, amiright?) But, ma’am, I got to pay for cable. And a wedding. And, Bey, your husband told me I had…

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Dear Chioma, how the hell has it been 10 years??

I woke up this morning and I forgot it was December 10th. And when I came on Facebook and I realized, I kept pushing the thought away unconsciously because I didn’t want to face my guilt… But you can only push so much. Chioma, I miss you. And I’m sorry I forget to miss you everyday. I’m so mad at myself for my limited memory that gets fuzzier and fuzzier by the year. At first, when I didn’t cry this morning, I hated myself momentarily because I thought I had “healed”. And when my eyes finally unleashed the imminent floods tonight, I felt guilty that in some messed up way, I was happy I was crying because crying proved I hadn’t healed. But still, the thing is I don’t want to ever heal. I don’t want my eyes to ever not be wet. I don’t want to ever reach the point where I’m okay and you’re just a fond fuzzy memory. 

I’d never actually read the details of the crash itself before tonight, and reading them in the WSJ article from 2007 that everyone shared today just completely broke me down. I am so sorry you felt so much pain. I am so so sorry. My heart is breaking because I can’t even fathom how scared you were and how much pain – I can’t, I cannot. I’m so sorry, Chioma. I feel stupid for the irrelevant problems that get me worked up everyday, or the useless things that make me sad. I wish I could travel to every home and hug every family member that lost their kid, their wife, their husband, their niece, their nephew. I feel so useless that my tears can’t heal their wounds or numb their pain.

As I cried tonight, I could just imagine you laughing at me and making jokes about how ugly my face was haha. Do you remember the day I was crying because I was homesick and you scolded me? You deadass shouted at me “So why are you crying? What’s wrong with you!? Oya after crying, then what???” And I was so mad at the moment and we probably beefed after that, but thinking back now, thanks for keeping it real sis lmao. I think we finally made up when you fell sick and I felt so bad and I wanted to tell you sorry so bad but my head was too strong. Someway somehow, we sha ended up apologizing and I got my best friend back. Idk why I have this one still-frame memory of you during this period. You were wearing a cardigan sitting next to Obioma during Interscience. 

I remember the night of socials when we came back to gist and count all the boys we had danced with. I remember counting a number between 24 and 27 haha, and I remember we discussed you dancing with Chizy or Damilola – I don’t remember which one but my bet is on Chizy? I think you guys had some subtle thing beginning to manifest- I don’t remember and I hate myself for my fuzzy memory.

I remember the morning of the crash when we hustled and strrrrruggled to drag Teju’s heavy ass box (that only Yoruba people carry) in the airport, so that she didn’t miss her flight. And I remember later that day when my mom told me there was a crash. She said the flight was from Abuja to PH but I wasn’t even worried because I just KNEW it couldn’t be yours. I didn’t blink an eye because I was SO positive. To me, it was an “oh no, so sad” situation. I never thought for a microminimillisecond that that was your flight. And when my mom confirmed the fears I didn’t even have, I remember how I felt like my chest was tearing into two. I remember not being able to make a sound as my chest kept tearing and tearing and the two parts kept pulling farther and farther apart. I remember calling the number you’d given me over and over again and finally speaking to your mom. I remember her crying as my mom cried with her on the phone. I remember later calling her on Christmas & New Year’s, and her telling me she and my mom were sharing me now haha.

Chioma, idk if we would ever have drifted apart with time. But I don’t think so. I like to believe that we would have come as a unit to terrorize New York together. You were my best friend, and I know it’s not just by chance that we had the same name, we were put in the same hostel, and we could talk about nonsense for hours and make each other laugh till we were out of breath. I’m sorry again for forgetting to miss you everyday but you know it will always be me & you. “Chibabes” for LIFE. And with Obioma, “Omababes” forever 😂. Rest in peace, nwannem, and rest in peace, all our angels. May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen. 💜

Spend More Time with Him!

Love this so much. I feel like I NEEDED to read this today at this exact moment.

Ms Alheri

Over the weekend, someone very kindly reached out to me and asked a few questions about their relationship with God. I am still very honored and I cannot believe it, but oh well, the Lord is doing great things🙂

She asked very important questions that I believe we can all benefit from.

Here is an excerpt from her email:

At this point in my life, I won’t say I am still struggling because my relationship with God has become much better and I can see the impact it has had on my life, but I know it can still be much better.

I want to focus more on understanding God’s Word and building a VERY solid relationship with God and I am not really sure what to do and how to do it.

Sometimes when I pray, I don’t really feel anything. I pray out of routine and I don’t…

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-the weird cycle-

Breaking up is weird. It’s sad, it’s painful and it’s just… weird. You wake up one morning and you’re so happy like “what is a relationship even?? All I need is me myself and Jesus amirite!?” and later that same day, you go to bed like “plsss come back, I was doing myself. Me, myself, and Jesus would love to make some space for you”. It’s weird when you no longer hear the voice of the person you’ve talked to every single day for months or even years. And every tonop affair when you drink a little bit and feel a little ‘joyful’, it’s weird when you can’t share a little bit of that joy with the one person your fingers constantly ache to text.

People deal with breakups in different ways. I’ve comforted friends who ate, who cried softly, who WEPT, who ranted via BBM/Whatsapp voicenotes, who Ctrl+alt+delete+blockedt, who called up their old hoes to “say hi” lmao. I feel like break-ups are easier when you have some sort of anger or deep pain to feed off of. Actually I take that back- the break-ups aren’t easier per sé, but moving on might come quicker to you in such a situation. Because everytime you reach for your phone and scroll through your contacts, you remember… You remember the girl he cheated on you with. You remember the day you found out and how confused you were, because number 1) hating aside, she wasn’t even cute and her personality was even less cute. You remember how hurt you felt when you realized that 94.7% of his words were lies. You remember how stupid you felt for believing him and trusting him through it all, unlooking the subtle warning signs that you encountered. You remember all the unsaid “I told you so”s around the room when you told your friends whom you were hoping he would prove wrong. You remember, and you lock your phone and place it back into your back pocket.

Now imagine when there’s no anger, no deep pain, nothing to feed off of. Yeah he broke up with you but say he thought it was the best thing for you both at the moment for reasons known to you both but better understood by him, or he was having a really bad day and he momentarily snapped, or you understood that he was freaked out at how real things were getting between you both. Imagine when everyday you wake up and your fingers still itch to send that “Good morning babe” text although you previously used to detest the phrase “Good morning” for no good reason. Or in the afternoon when you just feel like calling to find out what he ate, and you wonder when and why you’ve become so invested in another person’s nutrition. At those moments, what holds you back? What holds you back from texting or calling? When he calls you, what holds you back from saying “I love you more”?

Sometimes, we think things through and tell- rather, assure- ourselves we know what’s best. We insist that second (or maybe third or fourth depending on our situations) chances are futile.

You wake up with the sun shining in your face, and walk to breakfast thinking “what is a relationship even? All I need is me, myself and J…”, while Demi belts out the lyrics of “Really don’t care” into your eardrums. And then, a song comes on your shuffle and you remember. You remember the day he was so giddy with excitement about this new jam Drake just released. You go to class and the sorority girl that just never shuts up tells your professor “I love that movie – I saw it with my boyfriend three times”, although he didn’t ask her. And you remember the cute way he pronounced the word “three” and how he would refuse to repeat it when you pretended like you didn’t hear what he said just to hear him say it again. It’s time for bed and you’re about to take a snapchat of your pile of homework with a “can’t do this anymore. Goodnight.” caption when you mistakenly hit the switch camera icon and your close-up face literally assaults your eyes. You look like scraps, your eyes are tired, your silk bonnet making you look mad deeper-life, and you remember the numerous times you looked the exact same way, and he still insisted you were so beautiful and got mad when you didn’t believe him.

And then you doubt. You don’t know if you’re making the right decision anymore. All the pep talks you gave yourself throughout the day literally just seep out of your memory. You try to distract yourself by watching your friends’ snapchat stories, and whose face is the first you see? You say out loud to God “wow thanks, ha-ha You must think You’re soooo funny”. You put your phone back to charge and five seconds later, you find yourself playing a certain snapchat over and over and over and over again. Your eyes get “wet” but you assure yourself that it’s because your phone light is so bright in your dark room.

You lay your head to sleep.
You wake up with the sun shining in your face.
You think “oh my gosh LOL what was even wrong with me last night? What is a relationship even?”

And the cycle restarts.