Last week, I was at the pharmacy with a friend who, like me, recently lost a bit of weight. Our pharmacist was commending us, and tacked on something along the lines of “Una no wan gree at all o, una no want make oga look outside.”
Growing up, I knew a lovely lady whom everyone adored. She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made people say God created her on a Sunday. Tall, shapely, with creamy skin that glowed, she was also intelligent, classy, and brilliant at her craft. She was the kind of woman I thought no man could ever have reason to cheat on. Her death came as a shock, and her husband sat on the floor surrounded by her photos and bawled like a baby, his head cradled in his hands. When he remarried soon after and I learnt that his new wife had been his side chick, everything I thought I knew about cheating turned to vapour. Read more…
anafricandiva 