There are dates that the calendar remembers, and there are dates that the heart refuses to forget. The 7th of June is one of such days for me. Once upon a time, it was my birthday. A day of laughter, greetings, prayers, and celebration. A day when family and friends gathered to rejoice over another year of life. But six years ago, the meaning of that day changed forever. On that fateful day, I was preparing for what should have been a memorable birthday celebration. Pots were on fire. People were cooking. A live goat had been slaughtered. The atmosphere was festive. We were expecting her arrival from Lagos. She arrived. But not in the manner we had hoped. She came to us and gave up the ghost. And just like that, my birthday ceased to be a birthday. Since that day, I have struggled with dates. Birthdays slip away unnoticed. Anniversaries lose their significance. Eventful days no longer carry the excitement they once did. Perhaps grief has a way of rearranging the mind. Perhaps when a tr...
In Yoruba land, the birth of twins is a sacred event and a divine gift that transforms a home. As the late Kayode Fasola sang in his soulful melody, “Ti mo ba bi ejire, inu mi a dun o” —if I birth twins, my heart will sing with joy. The arrival of ejire , the twins, is heralded with the oriki chant: “Ejire to wole, alakisa to so o d’onigba aso” —twins who enter the home, turning rags to riches, weaving prosperity into the family’s fabric. A mother’s name shifts from, say, “Mama Bola” to Iya Ibeji , the revered mother of twins, her identity forever tied to this sacred duality. Yet, beneath this celebration lies a timeless Yoruba debate: who is the elder, Taiwo or Kehinde? Yoruba cosmology offers a vivid lens for this conflict. Taiwo, the first to emerge, bears a name meaning “the one who tastes the world” or Tayelolu —“Taye is the Lord.” Taiwo is the scout, the pioneer sent to test the waters of existence. Kehinde, the second to arrive, is “the o...