Paidion Coalition

Dear Sadiq Abacha, I do not know you personally, but I admire your filial bravery – however misguided –  in defending the honour of your father , the late General Sani Abacha. This in itself is not a problem; it is an obligation—in this cultural construct of ours—for children to rise to the defence of their parents, no matter what infamy or perfidy the said parent might have dabbled in. The problem I have with your letter, however, arises from two issues: (i) your disparaging of Wole Soyinka, who—despite your referral to an anecdotal opinion that calls him as “a common writer” – is a great father figure, and a source of inspiration, to a fair number of us young Nigerians; and (ii) your attempt to revise Nigerian history and substitute our national experience with your personal opinions. Therefore, it is necessary that we who are either Wole Soyinka’s “socio-political” children, or who are ordinary Nigerians who experienced life under your father’s reig...

I was told since my childhood to search for success right at the moment when understanding curve balls and intertwines strands by strands with competition. My eyes squint and my stomach reels at the thought that someone okaying my decisions is all that should matter. It doesn't seem like it matters if the totality of my belief says that life should be worth more than a few crumbs or that a baby’ life is worth more than a woman working 9 to 5, beating success at its game. Maybe I need to retrace my life in order to grasp the total chaos that striving for literal understanding has brought into my life. Okay maybe, the answer lies in some competition– Last night at the public relations student meeting, I froze at a competition the question, whether interning should be scrapped from being life. All I could think of was fuck! I was blank. Okay! I also thought about successfully showing I understood the words that spewed out. I lost the election because I was blank. Totally. Success h...

Hell hath no fury than an assassin scorned ... So, I returned to watching Arrow this week. I had stopped at this season's first episode and worked my way up. Love seeing Black Canary and realizing she's Sara Lance. Love that she's Oliver's equal. They both have the same story line, the shipwreck sent them into arms of people who taught them to fight and both have seen enough deaths. Hence they're both strong and damaged. But greater discovery was this week's episode where the show reveals Nyssa al Ghul. I love love her. The first scene we see her in, I never have cheered on a villain as much as I did after seeing her pick up the pen. I knew what was coming and I pushed myself into the moment, without a care.

“The Modern novel mainly began with new efforts to explore the depths of the human mind” (Matz 53). Authors began to deviate from the classical norm in quest of achieving the present “reality.” One of the features of classical novels dealt with, most especially in A Portrait of the Artist as a young Man , is the presentation of plot as a keystone for fiction. Plot has for ages, been used as a tool for separating fiction from reality. Fiction, since it is not reality, tends to leave out all the unexciting phase and traits of the fictional character’s life. Also all narration and action slowly builds up to the climax and then the resolution/end. However, James Joyce downplays the evidence of plot in his narration, to almost an extent of non-existence to showcase explicitly the process of life: from being a child, to losing one’s innocence, to doing things to change the status quo, and to succeeding or not.

I plan on buying Bossypants. Planned on it before but forgot. Love, love it. I recently stumbled upon this prayer from Bossypants and it wreaked havoc on my emotional. I knew I had to share.  First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty. When the crystal meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with beer.

I would not call Kathryn Bigelow a maverick; I would, however, tag her as a genius. The opening scene of the movie, The Hurt Locker , ends with Staff Sergeant Thompson being killed in a bomb explosion, which is a combination of suspense and danger. The ending shot is that of Sergeant First Class William James looking towards the horizon and marching into premises unknown—a case of suspense, as the viewer is left to wonder what might be James’ luck in the next 365 days. In short, the movie starts and ends with elements of suspense, danger and a little bit of thrill, all signatures of an action movie. Bigelow does not do away with the conventions of action film making; she merely modifies them. Although she delves into the mind of her protagonist, shows the emotions and feelings of the veterans, and cuts back on the gore of war, she does not deviate from the train of thought that action-movie makers are supposed to ensure both the fixation of the audience to the screen, and the juxt...

"Not M y Business" by Niyi Osundare                             " And they came for me" by Pastor Martin Niemoller They picked Akanni up one morning                               When the Nazis came for the communists, Beat him soft like clay                                                    I remained silent; And stuffed him down the belly                                       I was not a communist. Of a waiting jeep. What business of mine is it                                             When they locked up...