Sometimes, I try to tell a story like my aunty, Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie would do it. Like, you know, create a compelling and gripping scenario of how Tolani, an effeminate boy struggled with expressing himself in a world scared by religious bigotry and sanctimonious cultures…

I imagine her writing how Tolani made A in a course in the university, but couldn’t enjoy the success because three people who also passed were girls. Guys congratulated the four girls who passed – they must be study partners. After all, what’s odd in them being together. He couldn’t do anything sexual even if he wanted to.

At other times, I see her telling a story of that one time he went to the mall to buy a laptop cover for his system. Funnily, he couldn’t see other colours except white and pink. Of course, white would be a no-go area. Pink isn’t any better though but one out of two devils is better than a gremlin. So, he bought the pink coloured cover with sportsmen. He tore it after seven days!

Maybe mama would have written about the only place he got comfort and acceptance. His dad is a retired naval officer, his mummy a dermatologist. His only other friend was his sister; just a year apart in age. Probably that explains why they are very close. And they never hold anything against him. Family, after all, still counts for something.

I really don’t know she would have gone about the story. She always does though, beautifully with brilliant imagery – why I love and respect her.

Adebukola Omo Ade, you are not a tomboy; we can feel it by touch. You are here because you are my muse. You truly inspired this. We had a chat about Aunty Chimamanda and you spoke about how you read her growing up. If I wouldn’t love you before, I do love you now because we share something in common.


You own this space, dear. Thank you.