NERO WRITES

Anita leaves her 4months old baby, Dennis, in his cot and goes to the kitchen, puts plates of egusi soup and eba and water on a tray and takes to Mother-in-law, who is in the living room watching TV. 'I hope you enjoy your lunch, mama', she says with a nervous smile and curtseys as she puts the tray on the table. 'Thank you', Mother-in-law murmurs and begins to eat. Anita walks to the door leading to her bedroom and watches mama nervously from behind the door. She hopes mama will like her food. She tried to cook it the way mama liked it: lumpy egusi with bitter leaf. As Mama swallows the first ball of eba and nods her head, Anita knows she has passed the exam once again and goes into her bedroom. From the very first day she met Mama, till now, she has felt like a perpetual exam candidate. The tense smile on Mama's face as she said Good morning to her on the morning of her first arrival in her in-laws house as Kenneth's fiance, and Kenneth's too ch...

I remember those Nigerian movies I watched during my childhood days. In alot of them, I would see this setting: The king and his elders would be in the Palace,discussing. And then all of a sudden, the village Chief Priest would storm into the palace, with his staff landing on the floor heavily, every now and then. The King and his elders would look at each other with fear in their eyes. The Chief Priest did not often come like this, and when he did,hmmmmmm.... 'Hope all is well', the King would ask or something like that. 'The gods are angry', the Chief Priest would reply with a very solemn look on his face. This was often the reply. The gods were often angry. Either because somebody stole from someone's farm or somebody had traded on a holy day or the gods had not been given enough yam to eat. It was either one thing or the other. Now that I think of it, these 'gods' seemed to thrive on anger. They were always angry. So petty. And I pity their w...

It's a Monday. Not just any other Monday. It's the Monday I have been waiting for. When after five years of looking for a job and the last company, an oil company with its headquarters in one of those British civilized countries sends you an email to come for an interview, you know that day doesn't come fast enough. You wait impatiently. That was me. Now the day had come. I left the house and walked down to a junction where I will get a bike. It's a long walk. This is what happens when your house is 'inside-inside' a very long street. As I walk down the street, this girl suddenly walks past me. In all her feminine glory or should I say shame? She is wearing a pant that is supposed to be a skirt. Her fair, lovely (no, shameful) laps are in full display. Her buttocks are dancing too freely, like there is nothing under restraining them. Kai! Nonsense! Girls of these days are so indecent. This kind of woman can never attract me. This one is surely on a missi...

Sometimes it seems to me that being 'woman' is not enough. The word is so inadequate that something has to be added to it. Married woman. Strong woman. African woman. Today I am going to dwell on African woman. If you happen to be born in Nigeria, Ghana, South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe and other African countries, and to African parents and you are female, you must be an African woman, (and by that I don't mean looking like an African physically) or you are not a woman. Just something that looks like a woman. When people say, 'true African woman', they mean a lot of things. For instance, doing house chores forever must be a hobby. 'I am tired' must not be heard from your mouth. African women don't get tired. Infact if after doing all the house chores available in the house, you must create a chore. Thou shalt hate to relax. You must  be bouncing up and down like a yo-yo. I remember the times I spent in some people's houses. After washing t...

All our lives we have been familiar with the 'h' word. Help. We've heard it many times from people and have even uttered it ourselves. If you say you haven't, then I think you must be another Almighty God (and me I know there is only one Almighty God).        Everybody needs help. The word 'help' conjures up images of Love. Freedom. Goodwill. Service. Friendship. And so naturally, we welcome help. But stop for a minute. Sometimes that 'h' word has a negative ring to it for me, so I reject it. Strange? Let's see. Times like when Harry 'helps' me with 500 Naira and then expects me to lie on my back at his say-so and expects to dictate what I do and where I go and who I talk to. Like when my father's cousin's sister's mom bought me biscuit when I was eight years old and because of that expects me to seat for JAMB for her son. And then my favorite scenario. It's cooking time. Mommy asks you to carry that small 'b...