I recently read a post online where the best graduating student from Bells University of Technology, Ota, Nigeria (CGPA 4.89 out of 5.0) had been interviewed. The content of her interview or her responses to the questions asked is not what I intend to discuss on this post. Rather, it is the responses of people to her success that I would like to address. There were many comments about how easy it must have been for her to graduate with a first class because she attended a private university. Others were sure that if she had attended a public school, she would probably have graduated with a second class lower degree at the most. They undermined her success forgetting that in the same graduating set, 86 students had graduated with a third class degree, 119 had second class lower and 123 had second class upper degrees. Of the 28 who made the first class, this girl had come out tops. The comments not only baffled me but also started to infuriate me as I had...
My Iranian friend usually makes the mistake of referring to a male as 'she' and vice-versa. As usual, she offers an apology (which I do not consider necessary) and corrects her mistake. She had shared with me in the past that the Persian language had no gender designation and it got me thinking about the Yoruba language as well. As we sat down over coffee yesterday with our Chinese and Indian friends, I realised how related my local Nigerian language was to theirs. One thing stood out for us - none of our local languages had any gender differentiation. 'He' or 'She' didn't exist in our languages, rather we had words to differentiate between an older person and a younger person as a sign of respect - a trait completely absent in the English language. The French language is even more complicated and interesting on the gender qualification as even things needed to be qualified as female or male. We realised that languages had their different idiosyncrasie...
The past few weeks have been pretty rough and tough with the news of the passing of two people who were dear to us. Both of them passed away under different circumstances and in different countries. We hadn't seen Pastor Oyebami in over two years and our relationship had been confined to facebook messaging and a few telephone calls. Yet this hurt deeply as we remembered his impact and life of selflessness and impact. Everyone who knew him could testify to his selfless giving and love not tainted by unneccessary tribalism and religious bigotry. Yemi on the other hand, hit close to home as she was a dear friend of my husband who had turned a family friend. She was a cheerful, happy and real person. She was a kind hearted and helpful woman. I remember my husband being on the phone with her and laughing so hard, then he gets off the phone and relays what she said and I join in the laughter. She had a sort of beautiful unintentional sense of humor. We saw her on her sick bed and s...
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