Diary of my heartfelt letters
The way African women handle themselves in public is always policed by those who deem themselves fit to be law enforcement agencies in other people's lives. I have realized that African women don't have the same liberty that men have in terms of being themselves during social gatherings. For their behavior to be regarded as... Continue Reading →
Some days l could get carried away to the extent of failing to read for in-class tests because my whole self would be buried in novel. I think this is the period l groomed this 'unhealthy reading behavior', if l hold a book l can only productively do something else after l am done reading it.
Buried deep within us are the untold stories of our grandmothers. The stories that could start revolutions. The stories that could finally break their silence on intergenerational trauma. Unfortunately, these stories were nicely folded and tucked into shelves. They were only accessed through personal, deep and intimate conversations with the storytellers. Sadly, some of these stories never escaped the bearers' mouth.
What made my grandmother special was not only her sincere love, but the way she became my greatest teacher of all time through storytelling.
Her Diary Conversations 