ÌBÀDÀN

Ibadan pikin, that’s where my story began.

Grandparents’ house, where I learnt how to grin.

Dem old but dem strong, dem no dey play.

Dem teach me life in their own way.

My childhood had two sides of one coin.

Warmth in their laps, distance in the join.

They gave me wisdom I’ll never forget.

They gave me memories I’ll always get.

I’m grateful for every lesson they sowed.

Even on the days I felt out of mode.

Sometimes I need help and dem no sabi.

Sometimes I talk and dem go just look at me.

The gap between us felt as wide as the Atlantic.

So I learned to find my footing without their magic.

I figured out things without a guide.

I became my own best friend inside.

I kept to myself, I made my own fun.

I learned that alone doesn’t mean you’re undone.

The quiet taught me how to hear.

The silence taught me I was here.

Visiting parents dey feel like stranger’s place.

I dey long to go back to Grandma’s face.

But going back too, something dey miss.

Like I dey search for something I no fit kiss.

I was in between, not fully here or there.

Longing for one while missing the other air.

It felt like wearing two different shoes.

Both fit wrong, but both were what I’d choose.

I searched for home in both directions.

And found pieces in both reflections.

Despite everything, dem love me die.

Even aunts and cousins dey ask "why?"

"Why dem like this pikin so?"

"Why dem give am everything we know?"

That love was loud, even when things were tough.

That love was proof that I was enough.

I may have grown up between two worlds.

But I grew up held, and that’s what matters most.

I carry Ibadan, Abeokuta, and them in me.

And that is where I’m finally free.

About the poet:

Ololade Obadina is a poet and writer exploring identity, resilience, personal growth, and the extraordinary moments tucked inside everyday life.

NEVER AGAIN...

Let me tell you a story —

Not of a king.

Of a little boy called G.O.A.

 

His dreams were bigger than his pocket,

yet life was serving him gari and groundnut "like say na 5-star dining"

Uniform torn.

Socks missing.

But every morning he still ran after school

like tomorrow had saved him a seat.

 

Then came the knock.

Loud.

The kind that shakes hope off the wall.

 

Landlady’s son came for rent.

His father came home tired —

Lagos buses, heavy loads, weight no child should know.

 

One word led to another.

Anger entered.

A screwdriver spoke.

And blood fell where dignity used to stand.

 

Then a whisper:

“How much is left?”

The room broke:

“Two naira.”

 

Two naira

A father’s blood for something that couldn’t even buy gala and Coke.

 

In that silence, childhood packed its bag and left.

Responsibility walked in without knocking.

 

And that little boy made a vow:

“Never again.”

Never again would poverty write his family’s story.

Never again would lack disgrace their name.

 

So he worked when others complained.

He learned when others settled.

He endured when quitting looked sweet.

 

Hard work wasn’t enough

so he chose wisdom over excuses,

purpose over pity,

vision over circumstance.

 

Step by step.

Prayer by prayer.

Scar by scar.

His future started answering the promise he made that day.

 

Today,

the boy who watched his father bleed

now places house keys and car keys

into those same hands that once carried the burden.

 

The parents who once counted two naira

now count blessings.

And every memory has turned to testimony.

 

So when you see G.O.A.,

don’t just clap for the applause.

First, honor the pain that produced it.

 

Because the deepest wounds birth the greatest strength,

and the darkest nights give birth to the brightest mornings.

 

So remember this, when life says your beginning is too small:

Pain may introduce you.

but purpose will announce you.

 

And if you remember nothing else:

We don’t look like what we’ve been through.

About the poet:

Gideon Adeyeye is a performing poet and spoken word artist with nearly a decade of experience exploring the depths of human vulnerability, mental resilience, and emotional healing.