JENNIE IFEATU

Trade? Yes, trade! Everyone in Nigeria is an entrepreneur of some sort, or have you not noticed? But there is something I am NEVER going to trade. My peaceful morning! I love my mornings calm and quiet while I listen to every thought of my heart.  Today is a gifted day. Calm, serene and dry. I have a suggestion that the rain needs to start sending a memo before it rains, considering it's incessant fall.  I am seated between two garrulous women. The one on my left is stout and fair while the one on my right is slightly lanky and dark.  The bus zooms on the dry tarred road, the atmosphere is serene, thanks to the garrulous women who have taken a break.  "Driver, O wa o!' A shrill voice announces in front.  The driver brings the bus to an abrupt halt.  "You for don talk since make you stop where him stop before." "You dey mind am? Just dey waste person time," the fair lady says with a sigh in support. I am tempted to say something in su

We called him "Uncle Sunday (One-leg up)" as kids. He had a funny way of walking that amused us yet thrilled us to imitate him. On some days, we would tiptoe behind him as we imitated him while he walked past Idris Adebisi Street that accomodated our house. Adults who caught sight of us would chase us but we were not going to be kept away from walking like "Uncle Sunday (One-leg up)." When we gradually came to our teenage age, I overheard my older cousins talking about him. "Uncle Sunday (One-leg up) walked the way he did not because he was a 'cool guy,' rather it was due to an accident that required a hip surgery to correct his walking step. I felt ashamed and wished we had never imitated him. People walk with different gaits. From a shuffle to long strides to a strut, a bounce, a hobble, or even a slight limp. It just takes observation to spot it out. This walking pattern also determines the rhythm and pace at which  people walk. Producer

Early morning rain has an effect on Lagosians.  I will need to carry out a research to find out if people in other cities experience this too. When the rain falls, it strangely finds its way into the brains of these city people, seeping away every memory of normalcy in their heads. Drivers and cyclists struggle to pass through the same tiny path that might let only one cyclist pass at a time. Everyone is struggling to pass through the most convenient way, hence we create the dreaded traffic ourselves.  This mess is not our making only. The government is a ceremonial head. From the top to the least cadre enjoy the razzmatazz on television talking about laudable project they never accomplished. The Lagos-Badagry express way is a disaster, the government's disaster. It has consumed lives, people's means of livelihood and sanity. We are beautiful puppets with a meagre right to vote and none at all to desire good governance. So

If you thought that we go blind when the light fails our eyes, it's likely you believe that snowballs fallen on the floor are scoops of ice cream cascading from the skies. There is a thing about the generation that tends to stir the leadership of this country when the frail ones visit the land of no return. We love 'big things.' Big phones, big cars, big houses, big dreams, big husbands, big wives, big names or just about anything as long as it has the prefix 'Big.' You can't blame us!  We are the Millenials, the Gen-Z, no other generation has had a name as hip as ours. The digital era heralded us. So, No! You can't blame us.  But the next time we desire something big, let us remember that tiny pieces of sedimented particles make a huge rock.  Let us bring our bigness to remind us that a young Nigerian boy named  Dr. Emeagwali carefully studied the efficient ways in which bees communicate and build honeycombs and decided to create