Marriage and Its Attendant Palava!

Different Strokes for Different Folks

A new look at the concept of marriage nowadays already speaks volume about its being different strokes for different folks, having changed from the popular traditional union between a man and a woman to wedlock of the gods (or do you have a better phrase for the union of two men?).

While the law of some lands have forbidden outcry against the strokes of shame displayed in wedlock of the gods and have further pacified them with innocent sacrificial lambs; I cannot help but imagine if the same law will be able to spare these fairies when the inevitable fire of marriage begins to raze their fairyland?’ Well, that is that for those folks; for a goddess like me, it is a different stroke entirely – the thoughts of marriage has suddenly become the beginning of sleepless nights!

Why? You may ask, it is because I have come to the full realization that there are plenty palava tied closely to the before and after the famous ‘I do’. And as a ripe single, ready for plucking lady; I have my own share of ‘tales by moonlight’ in which I happened to be the lead actress.

My Story

Back in the days when ladies were girls, I used to enthuse about marriage, thinking it is one cheap course I will never carry over; only to realize recently that I was not studious enough and I had failed woefully with my 10-year relationship falling apart! Unlike ‘Humpty Dumpty’ though, I was able to put together pieces of my broken heart.

And so with courteous steps, I stepped forward to try new waters. Were they too cold for comfort? Not at all, except I almost drowned in pains; not from a heart break, but from an ‘ugly-ducky-head’ called ‘age barrier!’ It was one bitter pill that was hard to swallow so much so that all I could think of was Tina Turner’s hit ‘What’s love got to do with it?’ – My version being ‘what’s age got to do with it?’

I have thus, reached a conclusion that the right man for me is not yet born. However, just at the time I shut the door to my heart, Prince Charming came knocking. What can a Cinderella like me do other than to run off and meet her knight in shining armor  That was exactly what I did.

I went; I saw; but hey! Aren’t all Prince Charming supposed to be tall, handsome, and huh, slim-fitted? Hmm, I guess another pre-marital headache is about to knock me out; but the truth is, I don’t have any strength left to withstand its analytical pain. My best bet, I guess is to do as Jordin says ‘One step at a time……’ as I continue my waiting for Godot.

Plenty, plenty palava!

What do you think?

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I WASN’T PREGNANT, OR WAS I?

Despite the many hassles and jargon with which my communication theory lecturer is notorious for, she scores one point with me any day, anytime – and it is in the area of characteristics of a good theory. The fact that a good theory has ‘falsifiable prediction’  played out in my space recently.

The unplanned experiment began one June morning back in my office, when all the ladies purred “whoa she’s pregnant!” as I poured my stomach out from vomiting after I greedily guzzled two cups of tea (of course, I never made it through the second round before ‘the bad and the ugly‘ happenedpreggy ). Reminiscing on it now, I can’t help but wonder what moved me to that un-lady-like move of two cups of milky-tea in quick succession. But then, I did drink and oops! there came the predictable morning sickness! 

But hey! this is where I like the falsifiable character of a theory. Wouldn’t a full-grown girlie like me know if she was pregnant? That was the question I kept asking as the ‘ladies in the house’ kept purring like a satisfied cat, grinning from ear to ear, amusing everyone else but me with their “Eh yah! Pele”; the equivalent of ‘Oh my! Sorry’ . Suddenly, while still brooding over my predicament; something stirred within me and for once, I felt pregnant!

For real, I was pregnant; although, not with baby as my colleagues predicted; but with an idea that my pitiable situation mirrors the current saga in my dear country.

Just about the time the girls realized that their imaginative ‘early morning sickness’ was due to preg-nothing, but a mere case of ‘awuf wey run belle’; I got impregnated with an idea that it is possible that the current bombing rendezvous in my homeland might as well be a child of neglected economical/environmental/social etc development with no relational tie to political predictions at all.

I mean, after all DNA is tested and proven, is it not likely that boko haram is in no way related to its concocted and popular political father?

What do you think?

Your view might just be the solution to this mindless killi me I die palava.

Feel free to share and follow me on twitter@tteedot

Are you being spied on? Join Piers Morgan for a discussion on surveillance and privacy

I think there are two sides to this coin of cyber surveillance or whatever it’ called. If citizens expect so much as security from their government, then they should at least give room for some action/inaction (but then, in a responsible manner that does not infringe on human rights). So, I really don’t think there should be much ado bout data mining/unearthing for that matter. However, that’s something to say for the US of A, I can’t so much speak in such manner for my dear country where stuffs like data/records are easily bungled (no insult intended, it’s just the reality of the society I live; and I stand to be corrected). So please, can Americans stop this much ado about data mining less their government takes it further to data unearthing!

Piers Morgan

Is anything private? Are you being spied on? Is there privacy in American life? Is Big Brother watching you? These are just some of the questions we’ll look to answer as news emerges of the National Security Agency’s collection of phone data along with much more information from a program known as PRISM.

If you are in the New York City area and are available from 6:45-10 p.m. ET Monday, June 10, we’d love for you to join us as we discuss NSA surveillance.

For free tickets to attend the live studio audience of “Piers Morgan Live” please fill out this form.

Deadline to respond is Sunday, June 9 at 9p.m. ET. Must be 18 or older to attend.


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“They too are My People!”

ImageThey are my people whose tiny little tots are wrapped in tatters at cradle

They too are my people whose children’s coverings at birth are of wool and fur

They are my people whose wards lay still, lifeless without much ado

They too are my people who shake the earth and move the heaven to give their own breath

They are my people whose young minds yearn to explore, yet shrouded in a corner of the world

They too are my people whose fledgling minds are allowed free reign to the detriment of all

They are my people who burn the candle for a seat in buildings of commotion

They too are my people who sleep their way to the best of structures

They are my people whose struggles to scale the hurdles are deemed usual

They too are my people whose merest efforts are greeted with endless pomp

They are my people whose fingers write and rewrite to have a daily portion

They too are my people who with just a snap have more than can be chewed

They are my people, I know they are

But

Are they my people whose costs of living have no limit?

Are they my people who gloatingly plunder the land?

Are they my people who globe-trot a midst problematic airs?

Are they my people whose images are constantly sullied?

Are they my people who are Heads without heads?

Are they my people who live for Nigeria to break?

Dubai, Dubai Quite Contrary! How did your city grow?

dubaiI read with rapt attention Parag Khanna’s post on CNN about dubai being the center of the world. According to him, Dubai’s highlights some thirty years ago were a cheap revolving restaurant in the creek district of Deira and the modest gold souk of nearby Sharjah. But what do we have today? The book by Daniel Brook says it better “Dubai has graduated from a village that people just fly over, to an instant city in the desert…..” Considering its geographical location, I just cant but ask myself ‘can something this good come out of a dessert?’ Think about it! I’m done with my own thinking about the transformed city vis-a-vis my dear country – Nigeria (a land supposedly filled with milk and honey) and my only conclusion is an allusion to the Rhyme ‘Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary………’ May be, when we begin to ask such questions about other cities in different countries, only then, will we take seriously the development of our own cities in Nigeria so that we can stop lagging behind as a nation!