Gummy Celebration, 50th Post and Naija Bloggers Awards!!!

...Omonoba...
Our People say:
Eng: The pot of water that is being watched NEVER boils.-Nigerian Proverb.
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THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO ALL MY READERS, FOLLOWERS and those who have constantly been an ENCOURAGEMENT. Go ahead and pat yourselves on the back; yes you and you and you!
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Come and celebrate my 50th Post with me. If you would like to celebrate with me, you could do so by eating gummy bursts or gummy bears or gummy worms or starburst or any kind of chewy candy. Let me know if you do this!!!

God has been F.A.I.T.H.F.U.L. Alright, I am about to go up the mountains (they are already at my door, waiting) and when I return, I have a long day ahead of me: Bolder Boulder Festival, Memorial Day Activities and The Boulder Creek Festival. I have just returned from This craze on Blog(s)ville ATM and I have turned in my votes. Go ahead and vote for the Nigerian Bloggers Awards.

My blog (represented as NakedSha) was nominated for two categories, Best Daily Read and Most Unique Voice. Please go ahead and vote for this blog. Bless...

Thank you for visiting E-Smiles and keep visiting.

My 50th post just had to be a campaign one, but oh well!!! I will celebrate with my friends and brother.

God bless you all my readers!!!

A Peek into my life!

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Yoruba: Kò sí aláásáà tí ńta ìgbokú; gbogbo won ní ńta oyin.
Eng: There is no snuff seller who will advertise her ware as awful; they all say they are selling honey - Yoruba Proverb.
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A peek into my life:

My brother, friends and I go hiking every morning in the summer up the mountains. Today was blissful because all eight of us made it to the top. One reason I like Boulder is because it's very serene and OUTDOORSY!

Notice the water bottle in my left hand and the pack of gummy bursts in my right.

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Also, my darling friend (one of my closest friends ever), Kecy Anosike is now blogging as EdithSmiles! He's an amazing writer. Please show EdithSmiles some love by visiting his blog, reading, following and leaving your comments. I'm extra-thrilled. I love you, Bestheart!
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Have a blessed weekend, people!

Instead, let Sani not come home!

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Eng: Is it that Mgbeke does not know how to cut or that the blade was blunt?- Igbo proverb.
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A young wife is threatened by the thought of her husband returning home to eat the food that she has made for dinner; the food turned out to be not as pleasant as usual. Here goes:


Instead, Let Sani not come home!

Today, I have cooked food that did not taste good. Whether it is me that does not know how to cook or it is the pot that is not good; I cannot tell. Can one time of not-so-delicious food make me a bad cook? I am a woman who loves to use her fingers. This means that I like to sew and knit and play instruments and braid and plait and decorate and design and bake and of course cook. The first time my parents brought home my suitor, I was twelve or maybe thirteen and my abilities were used to sell me. Those callous parents of mine didn't tell me that they had already married me off. My father brought home lots of lace clothes and beads and asked me to dress in bright colours for the evening to receive his special guests. Mother acted like she didn't know about it all along meanwhile her wrists were adorned with jewelery that Sani's family had given her. If I was sold for gold and silver, I probably wouldn't have been very disappointed but my parents looked at me from head to toe and accepted painted plastic jewelery on my behalf. You know those ones that peal when they are scratched or come in contact with steam; yes, those ones. Very cheap looking. Even my abilities couldn't buy my greedy parents silver and gold. Anyway, so I have married Sani now for a couple of years and everyday, I spend the day ensuring that his dinner would be delicious and remind him of the reasons why he married me in the first place because I have no breasts and the two children I bore have made me ugly and worn out and so the only thing that is keeping Sani is my cooking. So, after cooking dinner this evening, the food did not taste as good as I expected it to. I cannot cook another pot of soup because the market is far away. I fear that Sani would leave me for another woman and that he would ask my mother to return the jewelery that he gave to her. I still have my lace clothes but I'm sure that my mother cannot boast of those pieces anymore. If possible, let my husband, Sani have an accident on his way home tonight. It would be easier to hear about the news and take some peppersoup to him in the hospital tomorrow morning. If the worst happens, it would also be easier for me to mourn him than for him to taste the soup I have cooked tonight.
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On another note, today has been one of those days when I have had to shut up and just listen to God:

ALRIGHT Father, I will shut up, shut down and listen. 
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Just in case anyone thinks there is a story they would like me to construct and write out, let me know.  ankaraandlace@yahoo.com .I'm telling ALL THE STORIES.

Have a blessed weekend, my darlings!

THE EAGLE BROKE HER WING and DOUBLE NOMINATION

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Yoruba: Ògèdè ḿbàjé, a ní ó ńpón.
Eng: The banana is rotting, people say it is ripening.- Yoruba Proverb.
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Thank you so much, my beautiful people for nominating me twice for the Nigerian Bloggers Awards. I am so thrilled and I am thankful that my blog is an inspiration to others. Alright, actual voting begins on the 31st of May so please go ahead and finish what you've started :). Bless you all.
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Today was amazing. Our friends  have been here and when there are a lot of people at our house, there's liveliness. After hiking in the morning with my brother and friends, we returned and played games, volleyball, etc. And had good food too. Okay, so I would like to share this before I take a bow. Have a great week my people!

THE EAGLE BROKE HER WING!

To:

Short plays, Cold Saturdays
Sweet acid, bitter wine
Blind eyes, Autumn leaves
Plastic pillows, dry rivers
And:
Shallow love, scattered beads
chaotic homes, broken limbs
foolish old, ugly brides
empty Amazon, black skies
For:
Lazy children, jilted lovers
fast summers, slow winters
sour oranges, hungry farmers
brown grass, thin glass
And:
Last laughs, sore eyes
draught and famine and pain
withered roses, blackened violets
loveless marriages, selfish gains
Friendly traitors, wordless books
burnt soils, ashy plains
Few fathers, many men
Many children, many orphans
For:
Finless fishes, friendly snakes
Spotless cheetahs, hairless bears
stout giraffes, voiceless birds
string less guitars, fur-less coats

To and for everything mundane,

Like flowerbeds with more thorns than roses

Especially the wingless eagle.

Next time...

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Even if your mother's food is not sweet, when you go out, you must say that her food is the best. - Nigerian Proverb.
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ENJOY !

Some of  these thieves do not have souls

The ones who would steal and kill and destroy

And then leave their prints on the sand

My innocence was not pure white, like snow

Or pitch black like the moonless sky

But it was there; off-white.

And of course, they always go for the best

No one steals rotten mangoes

Or over-boiled Zobo leaves

And after I fought with the anger in me

And screamed, and pleaded

I thought the soul in you would wake

No?

No. So those your claws left a scar

I wish you had just gone with my off-white purity

I'm used to sorrow, I would have overcome it

But no, you had to leave the scar.

Who even taught you wickedness?

I swear, your teacher did not teach you well

Next time, do not scratch beyond my skin

You evil thief. No

When they ask, I'll tell my children I had a bad fall

If they are not wise enough to see the truth,

If my eyes do not drown as I lie to them

Like it does, each time I look at the scar.

DISCLAIMER: I actually acquired the scar on my right brow from a vehicle accident but I have written from the perspective of an abused woman... 

Blessings.

...Omonoba...

Our people say:
When they gossip about someone, listen as if it were about you.- Ethiopian proverb 
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:)

Count your blessings name them one by one

And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Alright, I have answered your questions.

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Igbo: "Nwunye anyi, nwunye anyi": ka ndeli bia ka anyi mara onye o bu nwunye ya.
Eng: "Our wife, our wife": come midnight and we will know whose wife she really is.- Igbo Proverb.
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DO NOT FORGET TO GO HERE TO NOMINATE FOR NAIJA BLOGGERS AWARDS.

You all are amazing sha. So, here we go my dears.

How and why did you start blogging?

I started with my first blog sometime half-way through 2009 when I figured that it would be a beautiful platform to put out my works and network. However, I stopped blogging with that address because some issues came up. Then, early this year (2010), I started with BurntBottomPot for the same reasons but I worked on the issues that came between me and blogging the first time to create a better blogging experience.


Who picks names as NakedSha and BurntBottomPot and what do they mean?

Alright, I saw these coming. NakedSha stems from two words, Naked and Sha. Naked in this sense refers to plain, simple and in true, unadulterated form. Sha is slang in Pidgin English and for those who do not speak or understand Pidgin; it’s quite difficult to translate Sha to English Language. The closest word would probably be ‘anyway’ even though it doesn’t do justice to the meaning of the word, Sha.

BurntBottomPot of course means the burnt part of the bottom of the pot. Do not blame me jare, I like food. J So, I’m guessing that a couple of you know how much the slightly burnt bottom of Nigerian food tastes especially when you scrape it directly out of the pot? Imagine the BurntBottomPot of asaro or jollof spaghetti or jollof rice. Wouldn’t you agree that that’s the best part of the meal? So, I brought that concept to my blogging and since I consider myself a storyteller, I would like for my blog to become the BurntBottomPot of storytelling.

Which bloggers (that you didn't know before) have you met in real life?

I met with Diane of AfricanWardrobeDiary in Atlanta in March. She was very easy to interact with and we had lunch together, downtown. I have a couple of friends who blog but that was not the question. 


Who is/are your mentor(s)?

I have a few mentors for a couple of aspects of my life; people who I learn certain things from. My father and my mother are sort of my all-round mentors and so are my siblings (life wouldn’t give you better friends). In terms of African writing, Chris Abani, Uwem Akpan and Chimamanda Adichie are authors who I have read and adored. Shingai Shoniwa of the Noisettes' hair is mind-blowing and so is her sense of style from head to toe.  Jesus Christ is my ultimate mentor.


Are you writing a book, an anthology of poems or a memoir?

I am currently collecting my poetry and most likely may decide to publish later on. I am just not focusing in that direction yet, instead I am working on improving my writing. I would like to publish fiction in the near future but also, I am working on my writing. As for a memoir, thanks for the suggestion. I will now begin to consider that. 


When are you releasing your John Mayer sounding album?

I laughed out loud at this question. I would like to consider this a compliment; thank you. I would also like to conclude that John Mayer was mentioned because of my style of music. Oh well! I most likely will not be releasing an album now or ever. I do however sing with my family, friends and of course by myself. I also play my guitar and have performed music in front of audiences but that’s how far it goes. I am also on the worship team. My friends and I called ourselves EBONY (formed from the first letters of all our middle names) while we were in secondary school and sometimes when necessary, Ebony is awakened.


How many languages do you speak?

Alright, I am most fluent in English since it is my first language. I am pretty fluent in Yoruba and French and can communicate effectively in those. Pidgin English runs side by side with my blood. I do not understand how someone could like Pidgin the way I do. Edo is unfortunately the least fluent of all these.


The Proverbs?

Honestly, I was blown away by the number of questions I received on the proverbs especially to my e-mail address. I love African proverbs and wise sayings a lot because of the simplicity of the language used and the intricacy of their meanings. It takes a lot of wit to understand the depth of proverbs. I decided to bring them to my blog as a spice but it turns out some people come to my blog solely for the proverbs which I think is interesting. I get my proverbs from a couple of websites, books and my own knowledge from oral tradition. I think it is important to revive the art of using proverbs in our society. The art of proverbs hasn’t died down yet but it has drastically reduced.  

There we go, thanks for asking all these questions. Your comments, your questions, your critiques and your readership are the maggi to this pot. Maggi and Knorr are my favourite spices. 


You could still send me questions if you wish to ankaraandlace@yahoo.com and I will answer them as we go along. 

Alrighty, I think this is something that we all should share. So, if you wish, go ahead and do this.

Ask NakedSha; she'll tell you :)

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Yoruba: A kì í dá erù okó ńlá ba arúgbó.
Eng: One should not attempt to scare an old woman with a huge penis. - Yoruba Proverb.
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Again, I have been on my tippy-toes working for GCEAY. Things have been really interesting and demanding. I am really thankful for my readers. Bless you all. 


This idea was suggested to me and I decided to try it out. So, I would like to give my readers an opportunity to ask me any question relating to my PERSONALITY or my BLOG and I will attempt to answer them in the next post using my discretion. I am interested to find out what people are wondering about me. :)


If you do not wish to ask them on here, you could send questions to ankaraandlace@yahoo.com


Alright my lovely people, shoot!!!


NakedSha.

I just had to write about the palm tree :)

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Yoruba: Bí a bá rí òkú ìkà níle, tí a fi ese tá; ìkà-á di méji. 
Eng: If one sees the corpse of a wicked person on the ground and one kicks it, there are then two wicked people-Yoruba Proverb.
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Hey guys, it's been a roller-coaster week from conferencing with my friends for the African Youth Organizations to hosting my friends to hanging out with my nothing-short-of-awesome brother, etc. So, I hope everyone is doing great. I am taking advantage of my summer until work starts and life becomes busy again. Anyway, at my friend's request, I wrote the following for his foundation website. Here's the extended version:


'As soon as I realized how much I must give to my homeland and humanity in general, I started working and I have become a better person. But I still have so much to do. You see, my farmer father would make us help him plant palm trees that neither of us thought we would have need for. You know, we would be reluctant when we thought  about how long it would take a palm tree to grow. But then, each week, we would eat banga soup made from palm fruit and drink palm wine. The next morning, we would sweep the floor with brooms made from palm-leaf stems. At Easter, we would hold palm fronds. And we would play ayo with palm kernels and crack the unused ones for nuts. Rafia was all over our home. Someone planted all those trees. So it’s okay if I plant seeds that I may not benefit from directly because somewhere along the line, someone would use my tree for shade and I would use someone else’s for food. Someone asked me why I have to be the one who choses to work and I thought that was a question with an obvious answer. I never bought into the myth that for instance, a foreigner with a big camera and heavy anti-malaria doses will be able to come in and solve our malaria problems without the help of the locals. Only we, who breathe, live with and sometimes die because of these mosquitoes can face them {mosquitoes} head-on. I have long outgrown the hypocrisy of wanting to act for me all the time and that wouldn't change soon except of course I believe that there is some remotely possible way of surviving by, with and for myself. '


I just had to throw this in. IT IS SNOWING IN COLORADO AS I SPEAK. I do not understand the multi-polarity of this weather. So, no hiking, no outside activities. The benefits of course are that I get to write more, cook more and spend time studying my Bible, reading books and playing my guitar. So, here, this post is not a poem or the typical post but all the same I hope someone has been encouraged to live selflessly. And just a reminder that the solutions to Africa's problems lie with us the African youth. 


Á demain,
NakedSha.

My take and the Mundane

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Igbo: O na-abu a si nwata wuba ahu, o saba afo ya.
Eng:Tell a child to wash his body, he washes his stomach-Igbo Proverb
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The Naija bloggers awards is back/ Please go HERE to check out categories and vote. There are a whooping 30 categories. VOte people, vote!!! <3
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Since I have been asked, I will mention briefly my opinion on the BBC-Welcome to Lagos documentary. I liked a lot how the chosen stories were told. Beautiful. Rekindles my pride in Nigeria. I enjoyed it and nothing about the stories was untrue. But...
{Analogy:-}
If you are going to talk about how Nigerians eat yam and you are going to call it 'Welcome to Nigerian yam', you must mention roasted yam, boiled yam, fried yam, pounded yam,  yam pepper soup, etc. Boiled yam might be the most common and Pounded yam may be the most appealing but the yam story can never be complete until EVERYTHING is told. Or else, call it 'Welcome to fried yam' or 'Welcome to roasted yam'.

'Nuff said.
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My friends will tell you that I am not too deep to understand and appreciate the MUNDANE and SIMPLE things of life.
Today, I looked carefully at the curl patterns in my natural hair. They are beautiful!

Do something extra-ordinary today and appreciate something extra simple. For instance, pray on your knees!

<3

This is Why I Write.

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Eng: If the owner of a calabash calls it a worthless calabash, others will join him to use it to pack rubbish.-Nigerian Proverb.
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I have written since forever. I will write for as long as my fingers permit me and when they fail, I will speak the words that someone else will write for me. I am only a story-teller and there are stories to be told. Remember the baobab tree?

I met sour lemons and sweet honey, Those, I cannot change. So, there are times when I have wished that lemon was just a little bit tasty but so have many millions before me. Lemon has not changed. Lemon will never change. So, guess what? I found a way to make use of it. If you drink tea or sprite without lemon, you better wake up from that boring dream. And I do  not know how much more of a blessing than a curse it is that I have learned to see color in the midst of black. It may not be white but it is color all the same and if I cannot paint about it then surely, I must be able to write about it. If the devil now decides to be the thieving idiot that he always is (thunder fire his already burning head), then surely I will be able to sing about it. Somewhere on my table is a wooden box that has all the letters I have kept. The short ones, the long ones, the awfully illegible ones and those that I can so clearly remember writing or receiving. Bottled up by the cuticles of my fingers are many more letters unwritten. You know, I wasn't always listening in economics class and sitting right under that man's nose didn't mean I couldn't communicate with someone else at the back of the class or about seven rows away. Who didn't pass letters in class? Are you sure? It was usually something that I didn't have to say like 'Are you done reading chapter eleven' or 'nawa for you oh, how you dey? Just checking'. There are the actual notes where a boy would tell me about how he longed for Sunday to see me in my Sunday wear.. Okay,  those were few but they were pages-long; foolscap pages long. This is why I write. Because those silly letters in my wooden box will never forgive me if I do not continue their legacy. The ones at my finger tips? They'll torment me. Scorching sun and biting snow I can manage but the torment of stories untold, I may never be able to handle. Speaking of the weather; one more poem on yellow flowers and singing birds and...never mind. Because I cannot always write and sing about green apples or blooming gardens or strawberries. I like strawberries but not better than mangoes. I like yellow flowers but not better than Ixora bushes and palm-wine. If I had to talk about the palm tree, I would have a collection of books. Maple Pudding? Is that even something? What about Ogbono and Egusi and Nsala and my father's groundnut soup (groundnut, not peanut) wonders untold. As much as this might be embarrassing, growing up I never played ten ten. Neither did I play frisbee. I'm not proud to say I never really played ten ten but I watched everyone around me play it. Thank you but no apology if ten ten doesn't fit into your idea of an awesome childhood game. So, for the sake of passion and one of the few things I do best, let me write. If it is not quality enough well you do not have to worry because there's 700million poems on bright neon-blue skies. And yes, lest I forget, my speed bump is writer's block. You know, one time during one of our intimate moments together; myself and the block, I had to go out there and find inspiration. Guess what I found? Everyone talks about golden-brown skin and sun-kissed beauty. The block; bless its heart, reminded me about the song less sung...The Albino Child.

NakedSha.

Her Blessings and Her Curses.

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Yoruba: “Wá jeun.” “Ng ò je.” Ó fogorùnún òkèlè to obe wò.
Eng: “Come join me at my meal.” “Thank you, but no.” Still he eats a hundred mouthfuls, just to taste the stew.-Yoruba Proverb.
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I am sorry this is coming late. Happy Birthday T.Notes. I wish you a blessed year from now on and I pray that you will be what you have set out to become. This post is dedicated to you. Blessings, blessings, and more of God's guidance.

I have posted the link to the audio version of this write-up. It was originally scripted and recorded on the 20th of June, 2009. It's relatively old. I thought I'd share. Please bear with me; the original video actually has pretty images and lovely background music. Here we go!

Please follow the following link:

HER BLESSINGS AND HER CURSES...

I hope finals are going great! Have a blessed week, people!

NakedSha.

PawPaw is darker than me.

...Omonoba...
Our people say:

Igbo: Okuko mmanya na-egbu ahubeghi mmanwulu ara na-ayi.

Eng: [A drunken fowl has not met a mad fox].-Igbo Proverb

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This poem is dedicated to Blogoratti. Happy Birthday Sir; I pray that God blesses all that you lay your hands to do and that your name will be called across the seas for GOOD. Have an awesome day.

...................Ocha......................

So, I am clothed in white skin
I am a white man, with black blood
I mean, the blood of a black man
The sun has not kissed me yet
Do I smell? And so it abhors me?
Or what else may suffice as reason?

And yet it torments me
My white hair is steadily paling
Honey once fell upon my skin
And the sun bleached it
My eyes are constantly wandering
Like cycle rims, like clockwork

And they call me Wokocha
Wokocha: White man.
Who reminds a Llama of it's 'beauty'
Who reminds a skunk of its 'scent'
Who says to  the Proboscis Monkey
'Ugly one, Ugly one?'

I have spent hours under the sun
But my pores have turned red
When father is angry at me,
He calls me 'yellow pawpaw'
But indeed, pawpaw is dark
Pawpaw is darker than me

But mother reminds me daily
That across the Ocean are Ochas
Men and women who are bleached
So, I hope  to go there someday
I'll meet, and perhaps marry an Ocha
If the ship will ferry an Albino, like me.