Blog Posts,

My NYSC Camp Experience – Part 1

Hey Gems!

Noticed I’ve been offline, yeah?

I have been in camp oh. I’m going to leave you to guess where I was posted to after you finish reading this rant.

It’s my 13th day in this place but I feel like I’ve been here for months. I’ve gone from waking up by 7/8AM to waking up by 2:50AM just so I don’t do early morning frog jumps.

The weather here na die. Very confused. One minute, we’re Eskimos and the next, we’re Tuaregs.

When I came to camp, I sharply located the Red Cross Society and joined them. I cannot come and kill myself. 😩

My platoon members don’t even know me. Talmbout “are you in this platoon?” every time I go for meetings. 🙄🙄🙄

After the first week, the camp food stopped being interesting to me. I don’t know who started stealing their ingredients. Mammy is now my bestie.

I had suya some days ago and it reminded me of home so much that I wanted to scale the fence.

Remember my last NYSC blog post where I pre-complained about the toilets? I am happy to announce that I have a favourite toilet here. Gbogbo big girls and slay mamas don’t flush the others some times.

There are camp couples everywhere. Boys are spending. Girls are eating!

So far, I haven’t served any punishments because I’m a sharp geh.

I’m writing this in such a hurry so forgive the brevity. I promise the next one will be longer.

While you wait, here’s a picture of me in my white x white.Where do you think Nigeria posted me to? Let me know in the comments!

Blog Posts,

My Acne Journey

See me writing “journey” like I’m about to drop a skincare routine on how I overcame pimples and how my skin is now peng.


This post is long overdue. It’s also a sensitive topic but the fact that I’m telling you guys about it is a step to healing, I guess.

Growing up, everyone had an opinion about my body parts and other features but I’ll tell you guys about the rest some other time.

Today, I’m going to dwell on the most popular one – my skin, especially my face.

Everyone had (and still has) something to say about my face. I can’t go to a cosmetic store without the owner trying to sell me yet another skincare product.

I wish I was counting how many times I’ve heard,

“Ahn ahn, what are you using on your face?”


“Have you tried this product?”


“You should mix this and that.”

I am officially tired.

I don’t understand my skin. I’ve had acne for the longest time. I don’t remember any point in my life where I had clear skin. I’ve heard the worst things, even from people you’d think are close.

I’m always breaking out. I don’t know why. I’ve stuck to routines. Made new habits. Drank gallons of water. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

I’ve heard the worst recommendations. You don’t want to know what someone asked me to rub on my face. No, not urine (heard this too but never tried it).

This is where I leave you to your imagination.

Apart from the subtle but depressing jabs from people, my earliest memory was when we were getting our faces painted for a cultural dance performance.

So, a senior student had us make a line and she was painting our faces one after the other.

It got to my turn and she couldn’t even hide the disgust. She hesitated but started painting like she was irritated.

Now, if you know anything about whiteheads, you’ll know they are more prominent on your T-zone, but mainly your nose and chin.

She asked me to make this face so she could paint my chin and I can still remember her repeatedly saying “ewwwwww” and how she hurriedly painted that part and sent me away.

‘Til date, every time she pops up on my social media timeline, it’s all I can think about. It’s been over 11 years and it still stings.

Another permanent memory is when someone told me I wouldn’t have any good relationship until I had clear skin and even if I had one, my significant other would “keep looking outside” until my skin starts glowing.

Moment of silence for every terrible opinion people have had about my skin, please

There are so many funny (wasn’t so funny then) statements that I don’t have strength to type.

I think it’s just best to wait it out. Maybe it’s a phase. I don’t know.

I also just realized I haven’t been taking selfies. Like what’s there to snap?

Las las, maybe this Nigerian weather is not for me.

I call forth abroad visa, by faith

But until then, please be nice to people, clear skin or not.

One sentence could scar a person’s esteem for life.

Blog Posts,

Events: Tales By Mün Light (TBML)

Hey Gems!

Yesterday, I vibed at JayMün‘s TBML Concert and it was great for me because it was an inclusive event. It wasn’t like the conventional Kaduna concert where only rappers would come to camp.

There was an altè vibe that Shime and MonLee brought to the event, a thrilling contemporary dance performance from Ijay, and then GPZ (and Worship) locked it down with poetry so shout out to Mün for being inclusive. Not every time jump and shout. Sometimes we want Jon Bellion and Adele.

So, like I shared on Twitter hours before the event, I was just going to have a good time oh, but God had other plans.

Got to the venue and there wasn’t enough manpower so I had to be an usher throughout the event. I mean, I’ve joined almost all the departments in this life but never the Ushering Department. Shout out to every usher that holds it down every Sunday.


Some people were rude, some were nice; it was kind of a wholesome experience.

If you were offended after I nicely asked you to ‘please sit down,’ ntoh. ✌🏾😛

One particular girl came to the event with no ambition because she refused to sit down, and after some time, she started walking about looking for attention (yes, if you’re reading this, you know it’s you.) I started to pity her because it was too much. I don’t think she even enjoyed the event because she was just all over people. Las las, I hope someone collected her number sha.

At the event, I carried chairs, shared food, walked up and down just to make sure everything was alright. Felt good! My legs are still recovering though.

Just putting it out there that if I ever do a show, the rules are going to be so strict ehn. So, if you don’t feel like complying, just stay at home because I hate disorganised settings.

Wozz all dis?

Five minutes is five minutes. Don’t come to my show and be telling us the origin of your name and what it means in the marine kingdom (what?)

You sha get the point.

And yeah, I’m going to be inclusive too.

One not so regular thing that happened was when the Transformed Generation Dancers danced to a poetry piece from one of my favs, Titilope Sonuga. I was blown away! I actually ran round, looking for fellow poets to see if they caught on. It was a different experience for us because everyone else was just watching the dance but we (the special people) were mainly listening to the poetry. Mad!

I also reached out to a lot of people I’d been seeing dishing out content on the internet and made them feel appreciated.

Overall, it was a great experience. It ended with my mother blowing up my phone because, yes, the event started late (as is the custom with most shows in this part of the world) and ended late.

Kaduna event organisers, you’re doing a great job, but please learn to start your shows on time. EVERYBODY now assumes that shows start late and so they come late.

Let’s change that!

Na beg I dey beg una.

Another lowlight was when we discovered that someone stole from a performing artist while he was on stage. I mean, who does that? It was sad.

Shout out to Ayock, Eazy, Menxee, and every person that actively ensured that TBML was a success. Shout out to Kiraaaaaaahhhhhh toooooo! She sangggggg!!!!

What’s your best and worst experience from any event? Let me know in the comments.

Blog Posts,


Hey Gems!

This is my first official blog post. I know you’re used to all the poetry, fiction (and non-fiction) that I keep serving you guys. Thought I’d try something different today. So, here we are.

Today, I want to talk about NYSC. Yes yes, Youth Service. I have so many unanswered questions about the thing eh. Like why? Why do I have to leave my comfort zone for a year just to prove to Nigerians that I went to a higher institution? Why, oh why?

Corper Weeeeeee

I’ve figured that the best things I have achieved in this my life were done when I left my comfort zone. I’m not a fan of adventure like that like that, but I look forward to adjusting to a totally new environment – and yes, leaving my comfort zone again and again.

I really don’t know where Nigeria will troway me for the next 365 days, but I hope I’ll be able to grow my art, my career, and change lives – even if it’s one person’s life. I’m looking to join literary bodies or creating one if there’s none in existence in the area.

Lord plis, let the toilets be usable. I lowkey wish I could carry my house toilet to camp. No lies. So many things are fuelling my anxiety. Will the water be clean enough? Will it be too cold to bath with? How many packs of wet wipes will I be allowed to carry? Will there be constant electricity? Will I be offline because of poor network? What about thieves? Will they steal my provisions while I sleep? Do they sell FreshYo in camp? Will I survive the weather? What should I do with my hair, edakun?

God abeg.

I haven’t even packed, but I’m sure that chin-chin and biscuits will fill half of my box. No time.

So, NYSC, bring it on! (In other words, please be nice 😪 ) Who knows? Someone like Davido might magically appear in my camp to spice things up.

OBO Baddest

Have you served Nigeria yet? Let me know what to look forward to in the comments abeg.

Tainzz so much.

The Jewel,

#Inktober2019, Poems, Short Stories,

Inktober – Day 21: Treasure

Only a few things in life can mean everything and nothing at the same time. You are one of those things.
Ours is a complicated relationship for I claim to love you but I constantly give you away but pray you find your way to me.
I cannot hold you in my arms for longer than necessary. Life knocks at my door and demands for your services time after time and thus you have travelled more than I ever will. From the beggar’s plate on the sidewalk to the baker’s cash register. You make your way through the men in the alleys who beat and rape you then transfer what remains of your soul to the market woman who suffocates you between her breasts. There, you heal and foster warmth but you’re forcefully weaned and sold to the girl who stains you with drops of hot oil from the akara she sells. The bus driver holds you greedily at night and you are dispensed into the fuel attendant’s pocket the next morning.
Bound by oath and string, you serve your new masters; in chains; with your brothers. They surround you in a circle and force you to fight – to commit incest or die. You survive the brawl and you are cleansed of your filth and sins. In mint clothes, you stand out, your value and strength increased by your new allies and numbers.
Your new masters turn servants, take you to your hotel room – our hotel room. The receptionist hastily beeps me. I see how many friends you’ve brought with you. A smile runs across my face.
Ours is a forbidden love. I appreciate your multiple partners and invite them into my bed. You satisfy my hunger and my innermost desires.
I find that I am sane without you.
I lose myself when I find you.
I am unfaithful to you as you are to me.
They say I can never make you stay for longer than you want to.
I say I can. I say I want to.
And so tonight, as we’ll lay on our backs, strength spent, with our faces facing the clear night’s sky, I will roll over and ask you to love me unconditionally.
For one more night.
On every other night.
Through all my nights.
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