A letter to
Nigerian Parents
From an Artist
Dear Mom and Dad,
It is funny how you are almost always right every time. The sense of life,
freedom and my youthful enthusiasm has already faded away, my want for
security is back creeping on me, more genuine than before, but I have to take
responsibilities now anyways.
It is a sunny afternoon in Mozambique and my hands are scrawny, itching to
write. Last night, I thought of you and the night games we played, magical scenes
of those board games played in my head as I closed my eyes for rest. I recalled
how mama used to scream at dad whenever he cheated while playing and how
I suddenly lost interest in playing whenever I was one point away from losing. I
am eternally grateful for the joy your words brought to my soul in the previous
letter. A carriage of motivation rode in my stomach that evening and I finished an
article I had been brooding on for awhile.
I am painting an African documentary and it is so beautiful because I always
dreamt of doing this for a while now. I know it still hurts after these years; the
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