Don't Stop Telling Me Stories

I prefer to read books about dragons, super powers and mythical worlds, instead of reading books that profess to teach me ten tips that guarantee a successful career. I am happy to get lost with C.S Lewis, following him like a mouse entranced by the Pied Piper of Hamelin, as he introduces me to a world that did not exist until he created it. I give no excuses for believing wholeheartedly in his created world. The created world is usually a world that defies human logic, and in this illogical world, I would follow his instructions in order to understand the new logic that makes his created world work logically. 

I would get lost in the Iliad and the Odyssey (sorry to disappoint, I only read the children's version) and in my mind, recreate how Odysseus' dog died of joy after waiting so many years for his master's return. I would imagine how if the world in Harry Potter was real, I would not flinch if the portrait of my grandmother hanging in the living room, instructs me to wash my hands after eating eba. I would also get lost in Igbo land as Achebe explains the pride and resourcefulness of his people. I would imagine his proverb about the lizard that dropped from an Iroko tree, and began to nod as a gesture to praise himself for his heroic descent, since no one else chose to celebrate him. Can I forget my Chimamanda Adichie, who enticed me with the scent of her Purple Hibiscus and invigorated my mind with the beauty of an authentic story.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The Etisalat Prize For Literature A.K.A The Show Where Asa Slayed!

Contrary to popular belief, I am a bit of a couch potato. I just want to lay down somewhere, read a book, watch videos about dogs on YouTube, or have witty bants with someone in person or over the phone. If I have all or some of these, I'm typically good. However, on Thursday the 17th of March, at 5:08 AM, when decent people were still asleep, except of course they live in Lagos, I put out a plea for "hep" because I wanted to attend the Etisalat Prize for Literature. I don't actually consider myself a writer because I think owning that tag requires a lot of boldness, deepness and sometimes, a dash of weirdness (or uniqueness if you want to be polite), and I'm not sure I possess all these qualities in adequate measure. However I thought to myself, "if you are too chicken to call yourself a writer, won't it do you some good to be in the midst of literary giants? Maybe by osmosis, you might get some of their qualities and realize that the writer tag is not for a few." So I made a decision that I was going to attend the event, but there was a little snag, I didn't have a ticket or know how to get a ticket, and the event was strictly by invitation. So I began a quest to get tickets, and I sure did learn a great deal along the way.

By the time I embarked on my quest, the show was only two days away,  so I did what came to mind first, I asked for help on Facebook. 

My Cry for "Hep"