When I was bored, I went outside.
We’d knock on a friend’s door and ask, “Can you come out?” We’d play football, hide and seek, ten-ten, suwe, climb trees, ride bicycles, or just sit outside talking until it got dark.
Looking back, I don’t think we were less entertained than kids today. We were just entertained differently. Our boredom pushed us to be creative, socialize, and move our bodies instead of scrolling for hours.
I honestly miss that kind of boredom.
One thing that really stood out to me when I visited Canada wasn’t the skyscrapers or fancy buildings.
It was the sidewalks.
On my first day, I was walking on the road like I normally would in Nigeria. I noticed people staring at me, and I couldn’t understand why.
A few minutes later, I looked around and realized everyone else was walking on the sidewalk.
That’s when it hit me.
The street I stayed on had proper sidewalks on both sides of the road. People walked to nearby stores, parks, and bus stops without worrying about cars. Children rode their bikes, parents pushed strollers, and pedestrians actually had their own space.
Back home, walking on the road is almost second nature because, in many places, there isn’t another option. Sidewalks are missing, blocked by parked cars, taken over by shops, or interrupted by open drains.
It made me wonder why we don’t design more Nigerian communities with pedestrians in mind.
It’s hard to explain until you experience it.
Imagine strapping a watermelon to your stomach… except the watermelon is alive. It rolls over when you’re trying to sleep, stretches when you’re sitting, kicks your ribs when you’re eating, and headbutts your bladder every time you stand up.
Your stomach feels heavy, yes, but it’s also tight, stretched to its limit, and somehow still capable of making room for one more meal.
Bending down becomes a challenge, you can no longer see or shave your vagina. 😁
You spend half of your day peeing and you never really feel alone. There’s always someone moving, hiccuping, or reminding you they’re in there. One minute it’s magical, the next is tiring.
Pregnancy is basically spending nine months being lovingly bullied by someone who hasn’t even been born yet.
It’s hard to explain until you experience it.
Imagine strapping a watermelon to your stomach… except the watermelon is alive. It rolls over when you’re trying to sleep, stretches when you’re sitting, kicks your ribs when you’re eating, and headbutts your bladder every time you stand up.
Your stomach feels heavy, yes, but it’s also tight, stretched to its limit, and somehow still capable of making room for one more meal.
Bending down becomes a challenge, you can no longer see or shave your vagina. 😁
You spend half of your day peeing and you never really feel alone. There’s always someone moving, hiccuping, or reminding you they’re in there. One minute it’s magical, the next is tiring.
Pregnancy is basically spending nine months being lovingly bullied by someone who hasn’t even been born yet.