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How it started

She

Celebrating the women who have gone ahead of us. The ones who are along with us. The women coming behind us.

We are proud of the ones before us. In support of the ones by our sides. We encourage the ones coming up and behind us.

Happy International Women’s Day!!!

the day before sunday

Desire

*Sunday nights are back. If you are a long time supporter, you would get this😀.

Good night all!

Dates

Music drifted in the background as Hadija continued her chores, it didn’t seem like work when the stereo was playing neo-soul. Today, she had chosen Lauryn Hill, one of her favorites.

She polished the bathroom sink as the sweet sounds of Zion echoed throughout the newly decorated flat.

The song took her mind past the memories of the last year…

The divorce…

Trina taking everything…

10.23.3.1.17

She still couldn’t believe knowing Trina would bring her such great luck.

“Who would have thought?” she whispered.

A joyful smile filled her face as the song faded into the next.

Winning $259,000,000 seemed unreal…

1/25/18 1:05pm

©Boomie Bol2018

*I am currently writing a bunch of 100 word stories that I hope to share via this platform, and possibly a book. Appreciate comments and feedback.

Friday Fictioneers: Memories of Madam and Mustapha

I stared at the picture, and my mind went to Nigeria, Lagos to be precise…

Mustapha at the gate waiting for madam to return…

It was 6:15 pm and she wasn’t back…

Mustapha peered through the gates for the 100^th time… “She for don reach house now” he said to himself in Pidgin English marked with a heavy Hausa accent…

If she didn’t return before 8pm…it wouldn’t happen…

“Honk, Honk”

Mustapha sighed with relief and opened the gate…madam locked eyes with him as her Peugeot drove into compound…

Swiftly Mustapha went under the arches into a room…madam’s feet in subtle but steady pursuit…

They had about an hour before Oga returned…

 

Glossary of terms

Oga: Master

“She for don reach house now”: she should have been home now

Hausa: Northern tribe in Nigeria.

This week’s offering for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Ms. Rochelle

Friday Fictioneers: His Music

Image courtesy of Jan W. Fields
I think his music will do them good…It flows from his beautiful mind to his fingers.

The serene melodic notes take us all to a place…A place of harmonious gratitude

Where mindless worries cease and burdens lift… I know his music will do them good…

Just watch them feel every bit of it…

So sad, he has never seen the impact of his talent…

PS: Happy New Year! I am hoping I can be as consistent as possible with writing this year. We shall see :).

Please feel to comment and critique kindly :).

Tribute Tuesday

One of the fondest memories I have of my mom is her in the kitchen cooking. She always wanted me to be a part of it and asked that I stay in the kitchen to watch while she cooked. I hated it!

I was going to grow up and become a lawyer, never marry, and just try and win cases, why did I need to learn about cooking?

She made good foods and one of her many specialties was Obe ilá Alasepo (Okra stew), it is native to her state of origin, Ondo in Nigeria.

Obe ilá Alasepo (Okra stew),

When she made this stew, she would put all sorts in it and say “òkèlè kan, ọmọ ìgbín kan, aye n be l’Ondo egin” loosely translated “every dip of your morsel into the stew you pick a bit of baby snails” We loved eating the stew…ask anyone who knows, it is a delight…and even when things got rough and they did from ‘94-01 and especially between ‘99-01, she still made them although adding meats became expensive. She still cooked them with ponmo (cow skin) just because she knew we loved eating it. We had a funny name for the stew then and it made her laugh out loud. Still all I wanted to do was eat it and not make it…

Back pedal further to 2001 a few days after she passed away, I had to follow one of my aunts to the market to get food items, sigh… I hated it!

We got home and I went into the kitchen to drop off the items and for whatever reason, I cooked Yam and fried eggs with chunks of Titus fish…I made that meal almost every night for that period, and after the funeral and visits were all concluded, I found myself in the kitchen making turkey stew for one of my brothers to take back to university.

Turkey stew became my specialty, and every chance I got I would cook it…I also started making coleslaw and remember making it with my sister for a friend’s 21^st birthday.

I moved to the US and found myself cooking ever so often. Dodo& gizzard was now my specialty and every chance I got I would bring a tray to parties for free, then it was fried rice, now it’s all sorts…I always looked for opportunities to bring food to parties…I found that I thoroughly enjoyed cooking.

These days, I wish I had stayed in the kitchen with her…I wish I had learned to cook from her…still I try to look back on our time together and picture a few things she did here and there…my dad and siblings give input as they are able.

Today I am cooking Obe ilá alasepo, as a tribute to her as I make up my mind to pursue this joyful passion fearlessly. I will put every kind of meat I have in the stew…and I have a lot, thank God. I will sit back and dip my morsel into it…smile in memory of mommy and wish if only for one second she was here to share this meal with me.

:).

Obe ilá Alasepo (Okra stew), pẹlu iyan (pounded yam)

(To say I didn’t cry while writing this would be a lie, but that’s OK for I find my honest moments in words are when the tears flow free).

Behind The Flicking Lamps- Friday Fictioneers 3/29

After been MIA for a few weeks, I am back this week for another Friday Fictioneer per Rochelle. This week’s image is also courtesy of her.

I came up with a short story that might be a tad vague or doesn’t say much…and yet somehow it does…please feel free to comment and offer constructive criticisms. As always join in the fun. THANK YOU ALWAYS AND HAVE A GREAT EASTER.

Image courtesy of Rochelle

The kitchen remained just as it had been that tragic night…frozen in time, December 27th 2008 to be precise. Everything else moved on with life’s unpredictable pace, everything but this room.

Dimly lit and seemingly innocent, Sarah- Jane and her sisters made sure the room was secluded, and undisturbed…it took threats, screams, yells, and protests but they got their wish…no one dared look in the room let alone enter it. It was under preservation they said; just as their mother had wished it to be in her will…just as she had wanted it to be after that night…

A deadly and untold secret perfectly masked behind the room’s flicking lamps…