If my village became

My head is still up in my posterior, trying to figure out a lot of things. Sometimes it seems I’m the biggest dullard in the world.

But never mind that, some things are basic – the simple joys of life would never betray you.

After yesterday’s kiss, I’m happier than ever because I decided to be content.

Of course! Who wouldn’t be content with kissing a goddess?

I am more than content so I’d be smiling sheepishly, reflecting on kisstalk, beating that Gong animatedly and telling you that AfroSays:

IF MY VILLAGE BECAME

IF IJARE BECAME

I was just wondering,

If my village became British
Which of my Oba’s many wives would be the Queen, her majesty?

If my village became American
Would we dress bush meat on thanksgiving?

If my village became Italian
Would we organize Palm Wine tasting meets?

If my village became Chinese
Would we eat pounded yam with two sticks?

If my village became French
Would we fry our Bean cakes seven feet long?

I’m not sure about our Root Beer or our Pina Coladas, our Ankara suits or our Aso-Oke sneakers
I’m most definitely not sure about our suicide bombers
I’m just sure that we should remain Nigerian!

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