“Chimamanda, Chimamanda éwooo…Adichie!”

Alright, I give it to her. I hand it to Chimamanda. She is so real. Absorbing. Her simplicity comes across as vines reaching out of the book wrapping you and sucking you in. Okay, busted. That was a cheesy attempt to sound like her. I couldn’t pull it off. I ask myself, do I have to write a book punctuated with how‘…the frangipani trees planted next to the walls already filled the yard with its sickly-sweet scent of their flowers…” or how “a row of purple bougainvillea, cut smooth and straight as a buffet table…” before I am considered for a literary award? For starters, I don’t even know what frangipani or bougainvillea mean. Do I have to be so… “Abstract” sounds condescending, so I’d skip it. But maybe that’s where the “art” comes in. Literature, as an art. But believe me; I prefer the “wassup dia?” kindda writing. What did you say? Slap-dash piece of writing? Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment! Bad bellé.

you get brain no mean say u no sexy...denying our femininity, is crushing our liberty.Celebrate yourself women.We deserve it.

It’s yo