It’s the little things…

Falling ill. Lying in bed helpless for 8 days. Having my parents take turns by my bed side. My mum massaging my back ’cause it hurt. Eating custard and eko for five days. Bottles of Lucozade littered in my room. Friend’s calling to check-in. Crying that I could take it no more. Seeing the fear in my mother’s eyes. Finding muse in the mid of the night to write my last post. Using the last bit of my strength to type it out on my phone (Took an hour thirty minutes). Trudging to the kitchen and falling in the middle of the night. Having Superman/Dad rescue me. My mum bathing me. My mum looking for my underwear. My mum giving up on my choosiness over my underwear and asking my dad to help. My dad running away. Taking 16 injections. Having ice cubes strapped in my pajama bottoms over the lump the injections created. Hiding pills beneath my bed. Throwing the food away when no one was looking. Praying to God to help me get better. Watching movies and sleeping off before the title is up. Fighting to make a goddamn toast with no strength. Recuperating. Seeing the the light in their eyes. Bisi making me spaghetti and buying me ice-cream. Watching New Girl till late in the night. Getting back to work.

I “might” have found inner peace.

All of life is but a dream; paint it if you would, write it if that suits or sing it to your tune but whatever you do, don’t just bloody live it. Create it.


A fine white light

Little red riding hood sat by my bedside,
“Hi Konko”, she said
I opened my eyes a little,
“Hi Little”, I said.
“I brought you flowers”.
“Thank you, please put them in a vase by my bed”.
I drifted back to sleep.
T’was the first dream.

I stood in front of the statue in Queen’s College wearing a pinafore,signifying she was a junior student. She’s been there for ages past, holding a torch supposedly brightly gleaming, passing it on to every student that came in through those gates.
She jumped down and dropped her torch. All the rumors I had heard abouther crying every night suddenly added up. She said;
“All I want is to be a senior, I’ve been in this uniform way too long!”
I replied; “Would you rather have certain parts of you broken just to have a new uniform or would you stay beautiful?”
She chose the latter and climbed back on her pedestal with a new poise.
I walked towards my dormitory.


With each stride I took, I grew bigger. I was nothing near the nine year old child who walked into QC gates, tiny and timid. I was big and bold. I didn’t spend hours in senior dormitories fetching buckets after buckets because I was too timid to say no, too afraid to be spirited. I was Gulliver in their midst and I lived it. T’was the third dream.


I was in university. Covenant University seemed to be all I wanted. I had settled into a routine. Class > library > hostel.Feeding was thrown carelessly somewhere around. It was a sick way to live, it was the way I deemed fit. I had a tent, a kitchenette and a leisure park built in the library. I had neighbors. I grew to love them. It was my safe spot.
On one of those days, I was there having the time of my life – so to speak – and suddenly I collapsed. My neighbours came to my rescue. They hauled me over to the health center, where they called it a lack of something something. I didn’t hear what it was, it was but a dream. I woke up on the sick bed I’ve been in the past 5 days.


I imagine that in the thin line between life and death, people have all these dreams. Dreams of childhood fairytales,of wrong moves, of things they could have done better. Then they see a fine white light, waiting to take them to a better place- hopefully.


I saw a fine white light this morning. Glowing in all it’s glory. It was fine enough to draw me in, but I wanted more.
I said to Him; “I haven’t done half the things you asked me to, do you really think it’s time?”
I stood waiting for a response and then I heard my mum say;
“Is the light too bright, should I turn it off?”