Read this today and finally realised what I want my writing to be able to do to the readers, evoke and stir some emotions and for them to feel the power of my passion. This is actually a post written by my Aunty, a very talented and inspiritational woman. I hope you enjoy.
Really? (A response to mypenmypaper…)
This morning I read a blog post about me. I was surprised because I didn’t know it was there. It was posted in 2007. The piece is simple and kind. The writer Molara Wood recounts my growing up in London not knowing my Nigerian father. She writes of my having been embraced by a Nigerian babalawo and given a Yoruba name. Molara’s acknowledgment of my journey was a welcome surprise, one that I could have enjoyed if it hadn’t been for the first comment:
“A Babalawo in London?” You mean a Nigerian Babalawo plying his trade in London, or an Oyinbo Babalawo who was trained in Nigeria and practicing in London…..a babalawo in London just sounds….” mypenmypaper
Dear Mypenmypaper, You ask, do…
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