• Welcome
  • Writer Bio
  • Daughters Who Walk This Path
  • Chasing Butterflies
  • There Is An Elephant In My Wardrobe
  • Juba and The Fireball
  • A Good Name
  • Short Stories
  • Blog
  • Contact Information

Yejide Kilanko

Writer

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE

21/06/25 at 3.28pm   /   by Yejide   /   2 Comments

Once there was a maven wrangler of words

Who went to the haven named for Bradley

Jab date with the potion done

Not too late but right on time

Hope engravened for the future to come

We storytellers are time travellers. In the present, we plot and write, telling ourselves to suspend disbelief as we sojourn back to the past and into the future. 

The phrase, once upon a time, sets the intention. It documents our hope that what we write outlives us. That for as long as the tale lasts, our readers stay engrossed in the way things were or are. 

In this pandemic, hope often feels like an impossible emotion to nurture. We want our normal. The way things were. We especially crave physical touch from the people we love. There are many pertinent questions, few concrete answers.

Over the past year, as our sense of normalcy shifted, grief came. We are mourning far too many losses. In times of crisis, there is a tendency to default to a toxic state of self-preservation. Reasoning takes a hike while fear and paranoia hang around more. Unchecked, they crash our lives with their unwanted friends. 

To battle this relentless, red-faced, shape-shifting virus, we need Opposite Action. Instead of fostering fear and paranoia, let us harness the power of our collective force to extend kindness and grace. Let us get vaccinated when we can. To keep social distancing. They are part of how we fight hard for each other. 

I was floundering in a pandemic funk when I came across these words from slam poet Neil Hilborn. “The future is a small town we’re all gonna move to someday. I saw the future. I did, and in it, I was alive.” This is my heartfelt prayer for everyone.

Remembering Mummy: A trip around the sun.

20/11/14 at 12.00am   /   by Yejide   /   2 Comments

OUR MOTHER’S STORY

We celebrate with heavy hearts, but with total submission to God’s unchallengeable will, the life and times of our dear mother, Mrs. Catherine Bamidele Alonge, who went to be with her Lord Jesus Christ on November 14, 2019.

Mummy was born in Usi Ekiti, Ekiti State, on February 22, 1949, to Pa Bolarinde Komolafe Adedipe and Madam Mary Olufunke Adedipe.  

She began her educational journey at St. Stephens Anglican Primary School Ijomu, Akure. She then attended Saint Louis Catholic Secondary School, Akure, before traveling to Moscow, Russia, where she obtained a business diploma in cooperative studies. 

Mummy returned to Nigeria, and on January 22, 1975, she married her Akure sweetheart, our father, David Omobamidele Alonge. Predeceased by Daddy, who went to heaven on November 28, 2018, their marriage lasted forty-three years. 

Following her mother’s footsteps and those of her beloved grandmother, Mama Comfort Adeyanlanu Olokunboro, Mummy was an entrepreneur. Over the years, she owned several businesses in the city of Ibadan and truly enjoyed working with people. 

Our mother was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman. She gave big smiles, shook with ringing laughter, demonstrated fierce love, and was vocal about her clear convictions. 

Mummy was a loving daughter, a devoted sister, cousin, niece, and aunty. She was indeed a faithful wife, an accommodating in-law, a loyal friend, a generous employer, a trusted neighbour, a fantastic mother, and the doting grandmother of nine. 

She welcomed our friends into our home and made them hers too. Above all, Mummy loved her God, and she called upon Him until the end. Her journey of faith is her lasting legacy. And knowing that she is resting in heaven, and we will see her again is our comfort and our joy.

*

My dear mama, this past year without you was hard. Truly hard. I miss you more than words can ever express. Keep resting. God’s got us.

2020: Life in the Time of Corona

20/07/04 at 1.28pm   /   by Yejide   /   0 Comment

My last blog post was on January 5, 2020. My world has changed in many ways since then. Later that month, I travelled back to Nigeria to bury my dear mama. During the first week of February, I went back to work after being off for three months. Mid-March, our agency closed, and I have been working from home since.

I can’t talk about the first half of 2020 without mentioning the Black Lives Matter revolution. Like I told someone, we’re witnessing centuries of pain boiling over. My Black life matters. So does the life of every Black person on the continent. We should be able to breathe.

Overall, to say life has been surreal is an understatement. As I go through cycles of personal and collective grief, I continue to write, to dream. I’m thankful to God that these remain an option for me.

I have to acknowledge the pain and suffering of those who have lost loved ones, lost jobs, lost their sense of safety. For anyone living with mental illness, these are extra difficult times due to limited support services. I see you. I honour you. Your life matters.

As we all look forward to life after Corona, please continue to take care of yourselves.

self-care-isn-t-selfish-signage-2821823

 

 

 

 

 

2020: “Behold, I am doing a new thing!”

20/01/05 at 10.44pm   /   by Yejide   /   0 Comment

Just like that, the holidays are over. Life for me goes back to semi-normal on Monday. I’m already missing my Thing One.

Over the holidays, I had the pleasure of meeting North American Adun. She’s quite petite in comparison to her Nigerian egbon. That’s the Yoruba word for an older sibling/person.

2020 is shaping up to be a hopping year. I have two books scheduled for publication, and a 2021 release to edit.

I’m also going to prioritize my self-care by doing the things which feed my soul. These past two months have reminded me that I can’t do anything well from an empty place.

Once again, thank you for all the support. I don’t take any of it for granted.

Ayoka Jr. and Me

A Trip Around The Sun: Remembering Daddy

19/11/28 at 6.20am   /   by Yejide   /   0 Comment

“No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.”

― Haruki Murakami

Daddy Yejide

According to my father, he took this picture at the party held to celebrate my arrival into this world. At the time, Daddy was a graduate student at Massey University in New Zealand. His absence on the day I was born gave me the name Bidemi. It’s the unisex name given to Yoruba children born in their father’s absence.

Daddy took his last breath on November 28, 2018. As I thought about what to share on this first year anniversary, I decided on the tribute I read at Trenchard Hall, University of Ibadan, on February 1st, 2019, the day he was buried.  

*

Good morning. My name is Yejide Kilanko. It is a privilege to stand before you as the first child of Professor David Omobamidele Alonge.

Daddy began his undergraduate studies at this great institution in 1967. Since then, this university has been a part of our family’s history. Today is a homecoming for him.
At my core, I’m a storyteller. So was Daddy. Over the next few minutes, I’m going to tell a couple of stories about Daddy’s personality traits with the letters of his surname.

A is for authentic. Daddy was authentic. He often said what he meant. In 1989, at the end of a school term, I came home with less-than-stellar marks in my science subjects. I wanted to become an architect. Daddy looked at my report and said, if you’re getting these marks in secondary school, you are going to fail in university. The following year, I switched subjects. The social sciences turned out to be the best choice for me. Daddy knew that there were other ways to design and build lasting things.

L is for loving. Daddy loved his parents, Aba Elijah and Eye Ojigini. Even though we children did not get to meet them, Daddy kept them alive by sharing their stories. He loved his siblings, their children, his cousins, his extended families, and the family he and our mother built together.

The O word I chose was optimistic. In the Yoruba lexicon, the phrase atĂ pĂĄtadĂŹde is a literal description of someone who rose from a rock. A person who overcame hard circumstances. That was Daddy. He had a high level of optimism. He needed it to get through all the life challenges he faced.

N is for nurturing. Daddy understood the power of dreaming big. He actively pursued his dreams and supported the dreams of those around him.

My G word is generous. We often think of charitable acts within the limited context of abundance. Daddy gave, even when he had little. He was not only generous with material things. Daddy was generous with his laughter, his time, and his ideas.

I end with E for enterprising. I will always remember the many conversations we had about YĂ kĂłoyĂł, the chain of dĂčÇčdĂș and Ă kĂ rĂ  fast-food restaurants Daddy was going to establish. The days when he was a kerosene merchant. And how he paid us children to type those long student dissertations. His life reinforced that labour has dignity and its satisfying rewards.

I know death has a way of softening and sanitizing legacies. Daddy was not perfect. But, he was imperfectly ours. And we loved him. And we miss him.

On behalf of the entire Alonge family, and our extended families, I thank you for this great honour.

*

Continue to rest in peace, Daddy. You are remembered today and always. 

 

Next Posts
Next Page »

Pages

  • Short Stories
  • Ekaabo (Welcome)
  • Writer Bio
  • Daughters Who Walk This Path
  • Chasing Butterflies
  • There Is An Elephant In My Wardrobe
  • Juba and The Fireball
  • A Good Name
  • Blog
  • Contact Information

Archives

  • June 2021
  • November 2020
  • July 2020
  • January 2020
  • November 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • May 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • October 2016
  • December 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • May 2014

Categories

  • Books (1)
  • Greetings (2)
  • Life (1)
  • Short Stories (6)
  • Uncategorized (19)

WordPress

  • Log in
  • WordPress

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)
  • Welcome
  • Writer Bio
  • Daughters Who Walk This Path
  • Chasing Butterflies
  • There Is An Elephant In My Wardrobe
  • Juba and The Fireball
  • A Good Name
  • Short Stories
  • Blog
  • Contact Information
© Yejide Kilanko 2014