Random Thoughts

Dear relatives of mine, Living in England doesn't mean that I don't speak Igbo. Sincerely, A disgruntled Igbo girl. I've been trying not to slip back into the habit of filling my blog with rants and complaints, but this really got my goat ( For those who don't understand the phrase, it means that it really annoyed me ). I'm not going to dwell on it though, as the  preceding paragraph says it all. I do understand that there are people who don't speak their native language, and it's not for want of not trying either. However, it has to be said that your ability to speak your native language is not grounds for relatives from back home, or anyone, to look down on you and make snide comments. I often get relatives and family friends complaining to my parents about my accent, and wishing I spoke Igbo. Erm, hold the phone honey. One conversation does not tell you all there is to know about me, or if I speak Igbo. Just because it's not the language I c

The past beats inside me like a second heart.  John Banville

How do I tell you how beautiful you are without sounding cliché?  How do I describe the warmth that flows through your soul?  How do I tell you that the beat of your heart is music to my ears, because it means you are here to grace my world for another day?  How do I paint a picture of your smile, a smile that rises like the sun and gives life to all it shines upon? How do I sustain the joy in your heart, because your happiness is my pleasure?  Tell me please, for I know not how.