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Music videos have come a long way. From the days when Bonney M. whirled crazily on the dance stage musically narrating stories of infamous Russian outlaws and Plantation Boys. To the days when Queen\'s Freddy Mercury (whom I have since learnt was an Indian born Muslim who grew up in Zanzibar) donned a dress and sadly told the world \" I Want to Break Free\", in a now obvious reference to his secret gay lifestyle. On to the era of New Edition, sweetly step dancing their way into the hearts of their Candy Girls. To the nostalgic days when Michael Jackson, Bobby Brown and MC Hammer sweated it out crooning in front of seemingl

The dream of every parent is to wake up one morning proud of a socially and financially successful child. Parents the world over trudge through life looking to achieve this onerous aim. School fees, medical bills, extra curricular activities dues, grocery bills etc are the nightmarish routes most parents trot in their pursuit of that dream. Anyone who has ever watched the movie The Pursuit of Happyness starring Hollywood heartthrob Will Smith will readily capture the still picture of what I am talking about here in their minds. Despite the hellish escapades encountered daily by Smith\'s character in that movie, it never f

In the last few weeks, I have been watching some old American comedy series and I have to say that at this point, I completely see the reason why the world , not just America, needed to see the emergence of a serial like The Cosby Show. Before then, the only image the world had seen of a black man ( not just a black american man, but any black man) was of a man who was completely incapable of being a combination of rich, happy, polite, cultured and educated. There was only a certain way a black man could be and that was bitter, rude, sarcastic, poor, perpetually angry, unloving, uneducated, uncouth and uncultured. Take th

Where are the grandparents, and their stories??  There are many instances when I miss Nigeria. I miss Nigeria in the winter, when I am forced to tie myself up like an Egyptian mummy. Layers upon layers of clothing I hate to wear. I miss Nigeria during Eid or other traditional festivals, connecting with family and friends all dressed up. Not having to go to work like it was any other day. Filling my pockets to the brim with “mints” for the excited children on “yawon sallah” patrol. But most of all I miss Nigeria when I look at my kids, when I reflect on how I am raising them an