My gospel will always be your interest in me is your responsibility until it becomes mutual. If you show interest in me first, you need to give me a reason to become interested in you. I don't owe you the same level of enthusiasm simply because you've decided you like me.
🎵It's too hard to describe this
In a way that feels honest
But even when I'm quiet
I love you, baby I promise
And I hope I never see what your face looks like going
A face I swear that I could spend my whole life knowing..
Here's to hoping💞💕
Growing up, we just knew dad was a Muslim and mum a Christian. Sometimes, they would argue about it, but we really didn't know if they were quarreling or just dissing each other while throwing subtle jabs. Dad later went Mecca and became an Alhaji while mummy grew stronger in Christianity to become a church minister.
There was one evening mummy went to Pastor Obadare's crusade and came back very late.
Dad had already arrived and was served his food by my older cousin, who lived with us.
He went outside to lock the gate despite we telling him mummy was yet to come back from church. He didn't say anything but locked the gate and kept the key.
When mummy got back, we went to tell him, but he didn't bulge. He kept the key with him.
We all went outside to tell mummy that daddy refused to give us the key.
Next thing, mummy climbed the fence and jumped into the compound. She went through the backyard and entered the house, going straight to her room (they had separate rooms). We all disappeared into our rooms.
Daddy later went outside and didn't find anyone. He went to open her door and found her inside the room. Then we all heard him exclaim, "Awusubillahi mini shetani rajim! My wife has become a hooligan. You jumped the fence? Is this what they taught you in the church? La illa il allahu."
Then mummy replied, "ka fo fence kii se ese." (Jumping one's fence is not a sin)
We thought they would argue and quarrel, but we just heard the door close and they both started laughing hysterically.
We all woke up next morning, and it was like nothing happened.
Such was my hybrid family.
RIP Alhaji B.N.A. Adeola