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einsteinette

THE NON-CNN REPORTER

The last week has been the funniest and most adventurous week. Let me give you a recap. In one of the buses I entered during the week, the driver was treating his conductor like a houseboy. It was easy to see that the conductor was new to the job. The guy whispers (him voice never break yet, e never join men smoke igbo *that was a comment made by one of the passengers o not me*). Anyway summary of that gist is, READ MORE

STREET LOVE STORY by Roy Ofili

September 23, 2015

My dear diary,

I was going to write my own gist about the street this week when I was this and I knew that nothing that happened to me this week could be compared to

Something interesting happened on my way to Oshodi this morning. At the park, this rough mean-looking conductor also known as “agbero” in Yoruba was screaming for passengers, his vernacular oscillating between Yoruba and pidgin English.

“Oshod! Oshod!” He shouted angrily as I along with some other passengers scuttled for seats. There was this beautiful young lady who READ MORE

MY BOOK IS ON JUMIA

*Drumrolls*

Yes People, “The Diamond of Life” is on Jumia!!!!

The rich and poor have 24hours, the old and the young, the happy and sad, the child and an adult have 24 hours, many more questions… what differentiates us? Many say our personalities but then I’ve seen a poor sanguine and a rich sanguine. So what then is the difference?

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The Flip Side

Was never the superstitious type,
Never placed myself with luck either,
It never decided my actions I decided it’s,
Always knew there was something beyond normal about me,
Found a group of misfits so I feathered up and joined the flock,
Now am stumping thoughts bouncing off ideas and dreams of being great,
Is it all fate or just an imaginarium built by my own words?
Is it possible to breathe life into my thoughts and make them live?
A battle with the skeletons in my closet,
Death met them with the sword,
Glance at the reality of the wicked dreams of my phantom,
Crooked smiles, hand placed on my heart while I sing my anthem,
Only the clouds can see the buried lies I concealed in the coffin,
The blurred lines paving ways for the truth in her courage,
A harmony of confusion synchronizing the evil lurking,
A feast for bandits searching for the lost scrolls of my tainted ways,
Stopped talking and started acting based on the visions of my beautiful fantasy,
Managed by the character I created solely for my reality,
Now I stare at my empire as the ghost of my failure packs his luggage to leave,
Frightened by the smirk on the faces of my achievement,
Threatened by the impenetrable armor of their immortality,
Farewell my ghost companion,
Take this epistle, it is a simple account of how I positioned my ladder to climb from tail to head,
And decide your fate.

I’m a winner.

The flip side is my tale of my success and how I defeated my fears and failure and sent them parking into oblivion.

Love,

Tafeeda and Einsteinette.