Wow! Wahalalafia gone wild! I just wrote the best ever blog about how I was misunderstood, and guess what? It was fudging deleted!
Now I’m irritable.
I wrote really eloquently how badly I was misunderstood by the people around me. If I want to talk about my mood swings, then they’re dismissed as being self-seeking or I’m being blamed!
Now, as a Nigerian Wahalalafian, it’s not easy talking about Wahalalafia to your fellow Nigerians relatives, especially Aunties their response is one of the following:
- How can you be depressed? Our Lord never was depressed?
- What did you allow in to make you depressed?
- You’re not bipolar, you’re just hungry!
- Have you tried eating more pepper? I notice you eat too much oyinbo (European) food.
To which, internally, I reply AAAAAAAAAARGH!
Why don’t you just understand? Maybe the problem is I expect everyone to understand or see the monster. I’m the only one who does.
It’s like Stranger Things. It’s only the boy who seems to be able to see the monster. Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he isn’t.
Nigerians, we are so amazing yes, but our problems are that we see everything as black or white.
Any notion of Wahala, it’s either this is in your head, or you are hungry. The solution to any Nigerian problem for most of us is food. I’m surprised the current election, they’re not suggesting we just eat Jollof Rice to quash the issue.
Nigerians and mental health. Where have we gone wrong!
My moods picked up a bit. Actually, a lot! Opty is knocking on the door, she’s brought her glitter and I’m feeling fabulous again! Yay!
So weird, Wahalalafia.
Now here’s the thing. As a kid, well a Nigerian Wahalalafian kid, going to midnight revivals with Nigerian pastors swaying everywhere under the anointing really was an interesting experience. I always wondered, the people falling down and swaying, do they have Wahalalafia, or the spirit? Or even both?
Yes, I’m spiritual (and a Christian, yes) and I’m always curious about the human mind. What makes us tick? What makes us do the things we do?
Now to be fair to my Nigerians, I did feel happier when I did tuck into Jollof Rice. I swear, with all that’s going on, Jollof Rice could potentially bring people together.
I mean Brexiteer or remainer, Democrat or Republican, black or white, we all have stomachs (Remember I did say I use humor to get through awkward situations? You don’t have to laugh if you don’t want to, reader.)
Anyway, yes, food is delicious. Food is amazing. As a Wahalalafian, I find food really is central to my moods. I did chew the bone when I was three months old reader. I certainly don’t hate it. I just find food is central to whether I’m happy or sad. Remember, when I broke up with Michael, Dick the Depression brought pizza.
I notice that Wahalalafians are very sensitive to taste, smells and sensory experiences. Every bite of pizza for some reason seems to take me to Cloud Nine. I feel right, in control and the cheese oozing is so delicious and comforting!
But gosh when I hate something?! Eek, I can’t stand it. Vegan cheese. Have mercy. The taste and smell are reminiscent of Sulphur. Satanic Sulphur, which reminded me further of where it mentions in the Bible that in Hell there will be Sulphur. The worst is when it gets in your hair and you’re having to try and avoid smelling your hair as humanly possible.
Anywhoo, Wahalalafia. It’s not in my head. Well, I suppose it is in a way, since it’s a brain thing.
Ciao reader, until next time. 😝