Author: bimbo

07May

The Evolution of Morality: From Achan

The acceptance of one aspect of Paul's teachings (against LGBTQ+) while disregarding another (support for slavery) highlights the flawed nature of selective interpretation and the need for a more comprehensive understanding of scripture in its historical and cultural context.
6 mins read
22Apr

The Silent Danger: Sleep Apnea and the Road

It is a Yoruba adage that says "You will grow old but you'll not experience Evil, you just have to choose one" As we grow old, the sicknesses that define our mortality start showing their faces.
4 mins read
08Jan

Not Pretty but good enough II

There was no walking down the street to play with some neighbourhood friends and definitely no invitation for friends to come over and play soccer as I did at Oke-Labo. Our movements were fairly predictable - to school and back, to church or to some families for the occasional birthdays and celebrations for Christmas etc. We were truly ‘ajebota’ kids, protected by solid walls and iron gates.
5 mins read
10Dec

There is a mousetrap in the house

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, There is a mouse trap in the house. I am so very sorry Mr. Mouse, sympathized the pig, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray; be assured that you are in my prayers. The mouse turned to the cow, who replied, Like wow, Mr. Mouse, a mouse trap; am I in grave danger, Duh? So the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected to face the farmer's mouse trap alone.
4 mins read
24Oct

Lekki, in the beginning

I knew I was meant to work in the Oil&Gas industry but how I would do this was totally oblivious to me. At the University, I had taken up "Sheikh" as my nickname, a title befitting a Gulf Arab Elder that dispenses oil wealth to his people. At HIS appointed time, which definitely wasn't mine as I had given up to face a career in Banking, my feet were re-ordered. This post gives a sneek peek on how I got into the career.
5 mins read
08Jun

A Thousand and One Incisions

I would get woken up and, looking at the staircase, would see my father with his left hand resting on the rail, his right hand holding his chin with his eyes looking at me from the distance. His look was intense as if saying “come child”. A few times I had woken up those sleeping next to me, pointing at the staircase and shouting “Daddy is here”, but like those with Paul on the road to Damascus, they saw nothing and cautioned me to stop disrupting their sleep.
5 mins read