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My Father! Episode 3

So guys ,before I go on talking about what transpired at my grandma's place, I'll like to drop one more primary school experience .

 I was quite sure that my Father never gave any money to my teachers on open day. This was because nobody called me any special names or treated me in any special way. Talking of how I was treated, I was frequently being flogged . I don't know why, but it has to definitely be because of my aforementioned reason. The way the teachers treated the other kids that had seemingly rich parents was something to be reckoned with. They had pet names like Princess, Queen and all sorts of adulations were added to their names while I was plainly called Grace.

 In primary school, I was freaking ugly. Or well... Maybe I thought so but I knew I didn't turn heads or have anybody send me love letters. The only love I was able to gather was from my listeners. listeners because I used to tell fake interesting stories that my classmates very much loved to lis…
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My Independence Day Vegetable soup Recipe

Happy Independence Day Nigeria! My bad. I know I should have  done this yesterday but I was way too sick to even get out of my bed.  As a patriotic Nigerian that I am,  I thought of what to do to celebrate my country on her Independence. I  wanted to sing the national anthem but somehow my muse told me to cook!

So, I'm like...  What in the world I'm I supposed to cook. Instagram is so full of makeup artists with the green and white artistry .So as a food freak, I decided to show my allegiance by cooking this vegetable soup since it's green and my country's Independence colours are green and white.
So here's how to prepare the soup!

Recipe

Sorry palm oil is part of the recipe but I couldn't get a perfect picture adding the palm oil so I cropped it out. 
METHOD
Boil the meat and fry.  Boil water and soak the veggies in it. Then rinse severally and cut. I like this method of cleaning vegetable because it helps me retain some of the nutrients lost in cutting before…

My Father Episode II

So, I had just finished my primary school education and was still basking in the hopes of attending Queens college, Yaba, Lagos. My primary school's secondary section was another choice of mine but I had to hide that because no one could know that I harboured such thoughts. According to my set, the secondary section was for losers. We all wanted to see life from different planes and angles but that our school's secondary section was totally out of the plan. 


So, when my father came home that evening and said, "Dieko, tomorrow you will go and make enquiries about the tuition fee for Jss1 in your school ." It was mixed affections for me but at least I was going to get one of my choices which was not so bad at all .However, I had a huge problem. I was shy. Too shy. When I walk, I used to wish I could put on the colour of the air. Disappear and be so opaque that no could see me. I used to wish that I could have different faces. Because I thought it was such a shame to be …

Black Heels : A lady's Wardrobe Essential

Ladies get in here!  The guys can join too but shuush and don't start football arguments here cos that,  is kinda boring now.
So, today I'll be talking about why it is paramount for every lady to own at least,  a pair of black heels. So, join me as I take you on a shoesplic journey.
Black heels are here to stay. Like, they ain't going nowhere.
You ought to own a  pair of black heels because it goes on everything. Forget the fab that colourful heels bring. Sometimes we Prima Donnas are too much in a hurry to even think of trying to look too fab. So, I know you want to be that goal getter, that lady that takes life's bull by the horns. However, I also know your little secrets. I know that you like to be complimented. You like to look Charming, alluring and attractive. But...  You ain't got so much time on your side life's moving too fast.  Sad. Rock a pair of black heels and you'll never look out of place.

It is cost friendly. Let's say you have just two pair…

Nigerian Soups :How to Make Ogbono

Hello Gourmets! 

So, Saturdays are for the foodies. I'm glad. I'm so excited. Oh my gosh. I love food. Good food. I love to cook and taste good food. In fact, I  think I should get a job as a food taster. Or...  What do you think? 

Anyways, I have always dreamt of being a chef. Chef Grace? Gracie the chef? Whatever. I'll figure it out later. 

So today, I'm going to be teaching us how to make Ogbono soup. I love the soup even though I'm not Igbo. We call it (Apon) in Yoruba parlance. My grandma thought me this method so be of good cheer, it's going to be delicious. Old women can cook for Africa. 
So, 
Recipe
1 or 2 of Ogbono depending on how much you want it to be
palm oil
Crayfish, blended
Meat or fish or chicken whatever you like
Stock fish 
salt
Fresh pepper blended but not smooth 
onions  
Ugwu (pumpkin leaves) 
Pomo (Cow Hyde) 

Method
Clean the stock fish well and boil with seasoning. 
Boil the meat in another pot
When both are ready, remove the meat from the stock and add th…

My Father!

So, guys it's official. I'm back! Yippee!

 After the too long hiatus, I'm finally back. It wasn't an intentional break though but let's just thank God I'm back. I promise to keep you glued, educated and informed like I used to .

 So I'm starting a series called, My Father. It entails most of my childhood experiences centred around my father.
There's no better way to get over a memory than laughing over it.
So join me as I laugh over pain, laugh at the sorrows and make good comedy out of it.
                 ***************
Growing up has a way of bringing so many nostalgic thoughts to a person. You see, time actually does a lot in lightening up things.

Situations that seemed so gargantuan could easily be eased by the cooling balm of time. So, this is one of those thoughts.

My father and I used to live together. I had a step sibling who was a baby about this time. You know, I remember my dad taking me out on my birthday, buying me nice stuffs and all but I think…

Dirty Slap

As a young lady, I have always had this strong aversion for men who battered their wives. I know you’ll try to say that this is a general thing, that everyone hates them too. Well, for me it goes way beyond the common hatred. Mine was an unnatural loathing. I don’t know why, perhaps I was beaten to death in my past life. That proposition could be true because I was born with a dark scar across my forehead. So maybe that could explain my contempt for these set of human beings. It was this weird ideology of mine that landed me into serious kasala one day.