KAYAH : THE MUSINGS OF A STRUGGLING MUSLIM

Hi guys,  I honestly don't know how to start this one, so I guess I'll dive right in: this post is about my struggles with Arabic, learning et all.  As a child I hated Madrasah or (ile-kewu) as it's fondly called by the Yorubas, I hated it because the Ustadhs (Alfas) were MEAN, they had no mercy, they flogged for anything and everything, I was a bit of rebel growing up, still one. So I started making up excuses not to go, Madrasah was mandatory when we visited my grandmother, it wasn't at my house, so I made up all sorts of excuses not to go. I also remember seeing an Ustadh touch a lady inappropriately on the way home one night and that left a bad taste in my mouth, I was very young, but something about it did not sit right with me. 

Hi guys,  I promised I'll make efforts to post weekly, so here is my second blog post, typed this almost a week ago but I was too lazy to proofread and edit. No, I'm not in Starbucks sipping on a frappe, I'm on a tight budget this month, had to pay for new glasses which set me back a few hundred euros, and a silly decision I made last month cost me another 200 euros. So from now until the next payday, there is rice at home.  Eating jollof rice and plantain as I type, God, bless the person who came up with plantain and his descendants. Backstory on this batch of Jollof, one of the team leads at the office found out about Jollof from another Nigerian girl at the office, she promised to bring some in but didn't. He asked if can make it, and I said yeah, my desk is very close to his, he predicted and I gave in. I don't know if you guys can relate, Jollof for me is either a hit, a miss or in-between and I think I've perfected my recipe, but I was scared giving him th...