IMAX'S CORNER

Dearest Gentle Readerrrrrrr, How do you say graduate in Igbo? (Nothing concern this Illah girl with Spanish.) Maybe “gladgete,” the way Odumeje says it, but either way, your girl is now a BSc holder. Somebody hold me because I can’t hold myself. Can you tell I’m excited? If you can’t, well, I am. I am literally over the moon. I just finished reading one of my favourite newsletters, and it motivated me to write to you because the letter asked how my week was. So, rather than replying under their comment section, I decided to tell you. I know I haven’t written to you in forever, and we have a lot of catching up to do, which we will. Hopefully, I keep my promise to myself and start writing to you more often. But before I continue, do me a big favour, will you? Open your music streaming app and play “See What the Lord Has Done” by Nathaniel Bassey. Whether you are Christian or not, please. I’ll wait. Have you done that? Okay then. Let’s get straight to it. Last Sunday, or maybe two Sunday...

Sometimes you never know what forms your next prayer point. You pray for the basics; a roof over your head, food on your table, good health and if you live in a country like Nigeria maybe power supply and security. You tell yourself that as you have known the beginning of your child, you'd never know their end. You've told them to plan a celebration of life when you die at a ripe old age. So the day you send Ali off to school in the morning after giving him his breakfast of bread and tea and packing his lunch box with Indomie,  nothing tells you that this day will be different. Nothing tells you that, unlike every other day, your son will not come home. He will not return drenched in sweat after a long afternoon of football, forcing you to wonder whether he went to school to learn or to play. He won't ask what's for dinner. He will not tell you stories about his classmates. Unlike other days, your son who turns five next week, doesn't come back at all. Instead, y...

 Happy New month to the most amazing people on the internet, the ones who read all the things I write and the people who cared enough to check in when I disappeared from this space . I love and appreciate you all. I'm sending you lots of hugs and kisses.  It's been a hot minute or a hot three months but who is counting? I have written to you or thought to write to you on almost every occasion, but for some reason, I just couldn’t hit publish. But here I am today… celebrate grace, brothers and sisters. Let's do a quick debrief, shall we?  It won't be possible to tell you anything without telling you about school. School has been after my life per usual or even more in recent times, maybe it's because it's my final semester. Yesss, you heard right. In two months I'll be out of Epe with my bachelors degree, it feels so surreal.  But right now...Omooo, I am going through one or two if not three and four in the hands of my final year thesis. At this point, you ca...

Eid Mubarak to all my beautiful Muslim brothers and sisters. I pray this season brings you nothing but joy and overflowing happiness, but I can't say that much for the women right now in Ozoro, Delta State, who are being harassed, raped, and molested all in the name of "tradition and culture." No matter how much we try to defend our dear African culture, time and time again it proves to be very patriarchal, oppressive, and taunting for women. We don't hear enough about "culture" or anything from these cultural enthusiasts, except when it's to tell a woman what to do, how to dress, how to speak, and everything in between. I don't know what separates a woman from a domestic animal in the eyes of some people. And then when women speak up, they say we are "angry," a bunch of "angry feminists." I am angry, and you should be too. Are these reasons not sufficient enough to be angry or bitter, even?? If you hear of things like...

Could you do me a little favour before we enter this piece? Play 21 by Ayra star, not too loud, just at the perfect tempo to continue reading without distraction. Now that that is done, let's get to business. It's the 9th of December, 2025 at 7:45 and I'm officially 21, yessssss, 21. I am legal everywhere. It's a bit surreal because I was 16 like a minute ago, and at 19 I was so afraid to turn 20 because it meant I was getting old but now I am 21. Every year brings testimonies for me and this year is no different so let's go down (or up) memory lane.  I met someone at the beginning of this year, we'll call him the man I met turning 21.  It must have been the morning of January 4th on my way back to Lagos, alone, after Christmas. Sitting in the back of the Sienna, sulking over my phone that had fallen two days before, reflecting on what a time I had during the holiday and how much I hate good byes. Maybe I was extra emotional because it was the first ...

 Merry Christmas La Familia! I pray the abundant joy that comes with this season never ceases from your lives. Typing this is a bit uncomfortable for me because I have nail on (I wonder how bankers do it), but I'll do anything for you. Plus I have been putting off writing for some days now. I didn't start writing to feel smart, I started writing to express myself properly. But  these days that has been a little hard for me maybe because I am searching for a perfection that doesn’t exist. And that search shouldn't stop me from sharing my heart with you, it's currently 13 minutes to 10 p.m., and I have noticed inspiration usually hits me at night no thanks and more blames to a certain someone from Oraukwu, Anambra state for turning me into a night owl. Don’t ask questions.  It's my first Christmas without my mum, and probably the first December in my life I didn't travel to Illah or see my grandpa. I don't know how to feel. I don't feel bad but...