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Thank You for the Music: My ABBA Story

I must have been about eight years old the first time I heard ABBA. I remember the CD case cover, the black background of the graphic paper behind the plastic, the letters ABBA and Gold written in gold-ish color, so that one ‘B’ was turned the opposite way, resting its spine against the other B’s. I remember two small custom-made bedside wooden chests with single drawers in my parents' room, packed with CDs- ABBA, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, Lucky Dube, Bob Marley, Westlife, Backstreet Boys and many others. There were movies too- Titanic, My Best Friend's Wedding, Prince of Egypt, The Lion King, Coming to America- some of the best of the eighties and nineties. Growing up, my father had music playing on a loop almost every evening, and certainly every weekend. Most of the tracks were classics, old school funk and RnB, lots of reggae. His room was, a sacred shrine of sorts to music- the lights would be off, but we heard the beats from anywhere in the house- boom ka, boom boom k
Recent posts

A Chin-Chin Expedition

In the second week of December 2022, I started to crave chin-chin.   Like any other craving, I waited for it to pass. By the third week the craving was so strong that I considered making them myself.  It was quite odd, as chin-chin was never my favourite snack growing up. Give me overripe plantain chips- soft, dark, and spicy. I decided to go hunting for the snack one day during my lunch break from my remote job. The easy way would have been to drive to the African stores I was familiar with and purchase a jar of chin chin (which I was guaranteed to find) but I’d   just moved to a different quadrant of the city and I didn’t want to spend a huge portion of my work break time driving a long distance to search for, of all things, chin chin. After perusing Google maps, I found a couple of nearby african food stores to check. Hunching my shoulders against the bitter cold, I got into my preheated Hyundai and drove 4 minutes to one store, singing along with Sinatra as he crooned,   ‘Love-ly,

Introducing My Friend to Pomegranates

It was twenty-nine degrees Celsius  one night in the middle of August. My big fan,  the only reason why I’d been able to avoid buying an AC throughout that unbearably hot summer,   was blasting at its second-to-highest  setting.    I was sprawled  on my bed, watching Trevor Noah videos and ignoring my cramps, as well as my prior plans of going to bed at least a couple of hours before midnight that night. My friend, Grace knocked on the door. “Come in!” I answered. She opened the door slightly, holding a up a small pomegranate. ‘How do you eat this?’ We had gone grocery shopping together the previous weekend, and I'd spotted some pomegranates and picked up a few. ‘You have to try this!’, I'd excitedly told Grace, who had never had pomegranates before. I had only started eating them several months ago myself, and I had found them a more than suitable dietary companion in the cold winter months. I stood up and went to the door. ‘I’ll help you cut it.’ I took the fruit and we walke

The Taste Of Cardamom Chai

Earlier in my adult life, I met a woman in her late thirties or early forties- I’ll call her Stella. I’d been looking for a cheap room for rent, being a post grad student on the tail end of my program, having recently moved out of a relatives home in search of a different living situation. I had found the listing online- the room looked pleasing enough; furnished, clean, well lit. Stella and I got along well on our first meeting. She seemed chill- too chill, like she really didn’t care if I took the place, but I could sense a slight hopefulness beneath it. She told me about the person who used to live there, how they kept on bringing kids over- kids who would just ignore Stella in the hallway. ‘How rude!’ I had exclaimed in agreement. Eventually I moved in. It was my first time living ‘on my own’ since I moved to the country, and although it was January and the temperatures were frigid, I was set afire with the excitement of independence. There were three rooms in the house- one belong

WHITE RICE

  You are sitting at your white desk - the used one you bought from Facebook Marketplace at a steal price. The one you used for everything except eating, unless you were eating those spicy sweet potato chips you liked- they were allowed. You are scrolling on your old HP laptop- its what, 5 years old now? Older than your sister’s son.  You stand up to check the rice cooking. It’s the second time in five minutes- you have an irrational fear of burning food. You take slow steps on the hardwood floor, your thick soft grey socks sliding noiselessly along. You begin to sway your hips- you liked to practice catwalking at random moments, but you walked briskly and purposefully if you were actually headed somewhere.  The rice is simmering, still submerged in water and steam. You put the lid back on to silence the pop s and plop s of boiling bubbles. You reach for your sleek iPhone on the kitchen counter- it is slightly wet. You wipe it on the napkin hanging on the oven handle, then unlock it. N

BELOVED

  Let's watch the sunrise, beloved With the moon hanging overhead Let's sit and breathe in the clean scent of the morning That reminds us of when we first met I saw sunrise in your eyes that day Beloved The promise of so many beautiful things to come Now watching you sip your tea In that graceful way that you do And seeing the breeze whip the Fascinating ash-coloured strands about your face I know My sun will not rise without you So when we go Let us leave, hand-in-hand Looking into each other's eyes Walking into our sunset © 2017 Seun Ajijala

Driftwood

(Photo- 'East China Sea   off the south of Satsuma Peninsula at night '- Takeshi Kuboki) Lost at sea I find myself adrift Although I'd rather sail,  I’m tossed in the tide and carried by currents If I could hear you say my name One more time Then my heart would be glad For our journey together Was more anticipated And more enjoyable Than all the travelling I ever did Without you in it Life's tapestry loses color Still, I am content Just to lay here Thinking of you And if I die, I’ll know That the last thing I saw Were the stars in the sky above