In many cultures, stories and folktales are told not only to entertain, but also to pass on important lessons about life and living. Some of these stories are infused with magical realism; this makes them more memorable, and the lessons more so. This is what D.O. Fagunwa did. The stories do not merely tell of Akara-Ogun the brave hunter and his many adventures in the Forest of Demons, they also record important aspects of the Yoruba culture and tradition, such as religious beliefs, language (proverbs), food, dressing, music, artifacts, food, vocation, values, and social hierarchy. Some of the richness of our culture is preserved on
Blurb: On an autumn day in 1686, eighteen-year-old Nella Oortman arrives at a grand house in Amsterdam to begin her new life as the wife of wealthy merchant Johannes Brandt. Though curiously distant, he presents her with an extraordinary wedding gift: a cabinet-sized replica of their home. it is to be furnished by an elusive miniaturist, whose tiny creations ring eerily true.
We sat mostly silent in the parked car, listening to music from the radio. We made small talk in-between songs, with me keeping my gaze on the car’s glove compartment when he spoke to me. I always was overwhelmed by his charisma; I could never believe someone like him was into someone like me. And for all my brashness and naiveté, I considered myself lucky to be the chosen one.
Today’s prompt on Jeff Goin’s writing challenge is to write a letter to your unborn kids or yourself 5, 10 years ago. And then share it. Dear Self, I love you. I love your sometimes unruly self. I love that you stand for the things you stand for. I love the way you’re not bothered enough to be affected by some of the social pressures facing your peers.
Image from: IndieJaneReviews You know those people who are really passionate about words, who talk a good game about how much they love to write but don’t actually do much writing? Yea, I’m one of those. But that has got to stop; more verbing, less nouning. That is, more writing, less talking about writing and claiming the ‘Writer’ title. What writers do, is write. To this end, I have signed up for Jeff Goins’ 500 Words challenge. It’s a thing where you write at least 500 words a day for 31 days. Hopefully, that’ll get my juices flowing.
When you grow up hearing how lacking or inadequate you are, confidence can be a mountain climb on a wet, slippery morning. As your repertoire of all things ‘not quite’ expands, you try not to hate ‘So and So’s child, whom your mother has said is so much better than you. You don’t know how come they’re better, but you know, because you’ve been told, that you don’t measure up.
One day at school, I had to give a speech in one of my classes. No more than three minutes long, and it had to have a clearly defined purpose. It had to have a clear structure and it was part of our CA. I said something like, “I’m not sure which of the philosophers said, “Man, know thyself”, but I would like to add to it, “…and after you have found yourself, love yourself”. The journey to self-discovery is not complete without self-acceptance, and by that, I don’t mean excusing bad behaviour or rolling around in self-pity. I think accepting yourself means accepting that you
The first time anyone ever told me I was beautiful, I was 19, and my self-esteem had just taken four months of even more battering than it was usually subjected to. It was in a dark passage, security lighting from the buildings outside only filtering in a little. We stood there, about five of us, waiting for someone to lock the door to their office so we could all leave together. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I remember that his statement was unexpected.