You forcefully open the double doors to your room to see your reflection in the large spotless mirror staring at you, as you try to avoid the Master. Your image kills the mustard seed of hope you have been trying to nurture – your eyes exhausted from too many tears. Your lips are chapped, and the glory of your skin is in the past - your beautiful skin as your mother would remark. You wonder if it’s because of its fairness or the hairless sight of it, or the chubby feeling when touched. And then you reckon the eyes of your mother are not yours. Your beauty lies in your freedom, you think to yourself. You affirm that you don’t belong here, not in this castle with grey walls, lofty ceilings, and heavy brown curtains. Not viewing ancient paintings of wars. Not on a bed for a crowd and certainly not wearing these expensive clothes too pure to smear. You recall the first day of your arrival at your new home. You were greeted by a servant who avoided your eyes as he bowed his head and sai...
There’s absolutely no big deal about this lockdown and the coronavirus outbreak. Despite my tentative unemployment and fear of the unknown, the shutdown means nothing. It is like another sixty-day public holiday. The type you get for no reason – like the collision of a few work-free days and some weekends. So that instead of closing on a Friday and resuming work on Monday, you enjoy your bliss from Thursday till Wednesday. Then the churches are closed. All football matches are cancelled. And there is a compulsion to spend this normal public holiday at home with your family. Exactly this is what the lockdown is for me. And there are no lessons to learn anew. No "aha" moments of any kind. Life is the same and there is no newness under the sun. The only exceptions are the things I noticed. One of such is that Zainab (my immediately younger sister) and I do not see issues in the same light. She was a youth corper in Ibadan until the family convinced her to come home, just bef...