Fulani forebear, Uthman Dan Fodio, believes conscience is an open wound, peppered by guilt, healable by truth. I agree with him.
Author: Tunde Odesola
I wonder what would have happened to the septuagenarian if suspended Ogunjobi and his mob had met him on a lonely road at night.
One of such robbers on the pulpit, a light-skinned stark illiterate, who calls himself a lion, was formerly a shoemaker from Anambra State;
I wished he had just kept quiet after committing the taboo. But no, he did not. He issued a terrible statement in support of the sacrilege.
Each of us stooped down under the tables with our backs to our teachers, meaning that we, the little rascals, could see one another.
Growing up under my parents’ roof, the Holy Bible was worshipped. If it mistakenly falls down from your hands, you must fast for a day.
It’s a new year; let’s be patriotically wise. Only a stubborn dog disregards the Hunter’s Whistle. A word is enough for the wise. Welcome, 2025.
You can nail Kemi Badenoch to the cross of political hypocrisy, yes; but the validity of her mockery of Nigeria is unassailable.
On this fateful day, the ex-president, Bubu, himself is on a secret inspection of his farm when he sees the cobra slithering into the poultry section.
In the valley of the shadow of death, the brave Giwa looked down at his shattered bowels and groin and said: “They have got me.”
He is an agile drunkard, who abhors palm wine but loves sèkèté, the corn beer. He probably loves otíkà, the beer brewed from millet, too.
“So, I called Demola, Demola in New York, you know he’s my friend too. Demola sent me N1m immediately. Then, I called other people.
So, the Almighty Apostle Suleiman cross-examined God, asking: “Why?” To which God said: “Because of unforgiveness.”
All of the flea, the bug, and the fluffy-haired boy spectacles unravelled on football pitches worldwide. I know because I’m a witness just like you.
April 4, unto us a baby is born. Old age doesn’t always beget wisdom, though experience is its forte.
Globally, fans are part of the ‘enu dùn ròfó’ mammoth whose mouths are their only credentials to football expertise
We had a cassava plantation in our Lagos State backyard back in the day when I was in secondary school.
The làlà koko fèfè of the Ijebu headlined various Nigerian newspapers as the Ojude Oba festival climaxed in Ijebu-Ode last month.
I stiffen when politicians talk but listen when a Pope talks.
Moin-moin eating starts peripherally, not centrally. The etiquette for consuming moin-moin and agidi is written in native intelligence.