The silent husband, that is what he calls himself — not to people of course, but to himself. This evening, however, things will change. He is going to talk and perhaps raise his voice. He will not smile and brush issues off as nothing, rather he will flinch and let her have it. Show her... Continue Reading →

So, I’m sitting here in the kitchen, staring at a blank page of Microsoft Word, and thinking of what to write. Last night, my thesis advisor, Fatima, had told me to dig deep into myself and let the story come out. And then it will be true just like in Langston Hughes’ Theme B. Her... Continue Reading →

  It’s quite usual for outsiders of the discipline to view sociology as intrinsically leftist, and make sweeping statements about the discipline’s theorists, generalizing about their stands to be similar and built on the backs of each other. But this sweeping view is largely incorrect as theorists in sociology defer in their views of the... Continue Reading →

On that Saturday morning, I finished up my tasks at the Outpatient Building of the Psychiatric Center where I work, and ran down to the kitchen to meet Mrs. Martina Hector for our interview appointment. A co-worker had just stepped out, and Mrs. Hector was on her phone, telling her daughter she would call her... Continue Reading →

What is the role of a husband in marriage as far as Islam is concerned? Giving a full elaboration cannot be done on social media. But one aspect that needs to be highlighted is authority. Allah has granted the husband/father authority within marriage when He says: "Men are qawwamun over women" in Surat al-Nisa. Simply... Continue Reading →

You know, it was during a time of Ramadan such as this - a few years back - that I had an experience which left me shattered for months. She was my friend from our Nigerian Muslim community in the Bronx. We'd been friends for as long as I had been in the United States.... Continue Reading →

"Suke!" . There is a part of my memory that houses that fascinating demon, Fadeyi Oloro (Ojo Arowosafe). Mean, crafty and merciless, Fadeyi was the old Yoruba cinema’s Deimos – the quintessence of terror in Greek mythology. His darkened face, sometimes made more horrific by excessive cosmetics, was perhaps a reflection of what dwelled in... Continue Reading →

It's a Monday morning and I feel tired. Something about this early sunshine takes me back to Ìbàdàn of the late nineties when we lived in a story building at the banks of Ogunpa River in Mọ̀lété. There's a strange similarity in the air. I was very young, barely speaking, and I had fallen sick.... Continue Reading →

The height of happiness was when my son was born, but that state of intense joy was fleeting, marred by sadness of my sickness. My wife was in fear. So, you see, at this level of happiness there was still sadness lurking, as for the first time in my life, I actually feared that I... Continue Reading →