Lerabari's Blog

So my nephew and niece attended a Christmas party today, organized by UPWA, the women association of the institution. It's crucial that I make this point early enough - this post is in no way trying to discredit the organizers, but to express my disappointment over the dearth of creativity in the organization of this event that's an annual ritual in Uniport. In our time, I won't say it was the best cause the organization was poor, it was always overcrowded, and it was open to all and sundry. This year and for some years now, they've realized this problem and have attempted to restrict attendance. Some funny things happened this year according to reports. First, there was no bouncy castle. Who does that? How can you organize a kiddies party in this day and age without a bouncy castle? I also hear the games were 'interesting' . Yes, chair-dance never gets old, so it was one of the games but the participants were Father Christmas, Mother Christmas, Tiger and C...

The word 'groping' has recently received prominence as a result of revelations in Hollywood and America in general. It's an offence in ths US to touch a woman in an unwanted and unexpected sexual way or to have committed the act in the past (maybe a time that it was passively permissible). This is because groping is an act of abuse, and can be classified as violence against women. In Nigeria however, we are still grappling with mundane issues such as rape, female genital mutilation and patriarchy to start considering what may be considered as trivial in these climes. An ordinary day in the market makes you prone to groping in Nigeria. We are yet to understand abuse in any other term not connected to the application of force. You go to the market to buy foodstuff or get wares. The male vendor not only wants to make ends meet by selling off his goods, but also attempts to flex his muscles, show that he is stronger and how you should  succumb to his pressure, just to buy...

November 10 is a day that every Ogoni man or woman remembers as a black day. It was 1995 and under the regime of a military junta and despot known as Abacha. The #Ogoni9 were accused of murder, tried and hanged under very bizarre circumstances. Late Ken Saro Wiwa was one of them and the leading voice of the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People, MOSOP. The first time I came across the name MOSOP was in my primary school days. It was boldly written on a blue and red sunshade cap that hung conspicuously on the frame of my father's dressing mirror. I believe it occupied this special position not for the absence of a better place to put it, but so that when he looks at the mirror, he would catch a glimpse of it and step out for the days activities remembering the ecological imperialism and genocide his people have suffered. There were days this cap disappeared and also did my Dad. Now I understand he may have had crucial meetings in the village where he spent most of his wee...

I happen to be on the ‘big side’, not as a result of eating too much but as a result of my mother’s genes. I’ve tried so hard to control my size and weight and heard I have to watch my calories. But trust me, doing all the counting and all is really demanding. Then adjusting to my new job has been another challenge altogether. At my former job, there was a canteen with variety of food to choose from, rice and stew; jollof rice; salad or moi-moi; eba and native, okra, or vegetable soup. So there were options to pick from. I believe I ate healthy then. But now, the story is different. There's no canteen for starters. The lady who prepares the meals has a lot on her hands as she serves as the tuck shop lady. So she’s not always available or just too busy to be disturbed. So most of the time, I go hungry. I’m even surprised at how my stomach and system has been able to manage without adequate food for weeks now. Sometimes I return home and binge on something I had bought on the way,...

My eyes were fixed to the sky from around 7pm, because I wanted to at least see the moon first before raising my expectations for the eclipse. A friend had come to pick up a book from me, and we stood outside for over an hour gisting and laughing. He caught me gazing up in the sky on several occasions, so I had to tell him why. From his response, he was obviously not as enthusiastic as I was. Well, I was bent on satisfying my curiosity, so as I got home, I checked online for the precise timing for Port Harcourt and realized the eclipse would begin around 2am. So, I set my alarm for that time and slept off. When my alarm went off, I strolled to the balcony at the backyard of my sister's apartment. Since hers is on the top floor of the building, it was difficult to see the moon. I was forced to the balcony at the front where I stooped down. Voila! The moon was there, full but not red. It looked different, though, as I actually noticed a little cloud by its side, and some unusual b...

Verily, verily, I say unto you, do not be scared of eating thy beans that has been visited terribly by weevils. As it is said, ignorance is a deadly disease that can see you heading to your grave at the wrong time, so let me school you on something very important. I recently stumbled upon a man who delights in travelling around the globe, not for site seeing or as a result of other tourist attractions, but because he delights in the weird delicacies eaten by tribes of people all over the world. The other day, I caught him eating some really creepy things that I would love to share with you. The first thing I saw him eat was (you wouldn’t believe this) …the embryo of a duck! Now, how do I explain this? Ok, lemme try. Somewhere in South Asia, there is a local food that is like the normal boiled egg, and let me warn you now, if you’re visiting a new town, do not buy boiled egg. Instead, buy the raw egg and cook it yourself. So, as I was saying, this egg is that of a duck (don’t know if...

“One day a neighbor called Okoye came in to see him….He immediately rose and shook hands with Okoye, who then unrolled the goatskin which he carried under his arm, and sat down. Unoka went into an inner room and soon returned with a small wooden disc containing a kola nut, some alligator pepper and a lump of white chalk. ‘I have kola,’ he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest. ‘Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,’ replied Okoye passing back the disc.” (Excerpt from Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe ) If you come from this part of the globe, you must have come across the bitter-kola and alligator pepper. In the traditional Nigerian society, these two items cannot be ignored or forgotten, as they are essential in most traditional occasions and rites: the most prominent being a sign of hospitality. On one hand, the bitter-kola (Garcinia Kola) gets its name from the sharp bitter taste it has. On the other...