Heated up: Love in Bollywood

Diary of a Nigerian Immigrant

I am beginning to leave matters for Matthias, as I do not write weekly anymore. But I got my first smoke alarm last week. I was frying chicken with an air fryer, and I didn’t get it preheated before using it. I wondered who invented these things. But that was not the only thing that got heated.

I am beginning to think of myself as a relationship counselor. Esther Solarin must be proud of me. It's 1 PM, but everyone seems to have one sort of relationship: “brouhaha”. My friend has broken up with her boyfriend, and I may not have the best advice. Another is dealing with a love triangle. Whatever our heritage, we all seek love, finding one to be with. If you have been reading my blogs to this point, I think you know that I am as single as a singlet. Sighs, ‘insert deep Brother Shaggi quotes’.

I am down on my knees arranging catalogs; if I knew that sorting books and papers is exactly this ‘fun’, I would have worked for the university library in Unilag, and God knows those people need serious help.

These past few weeks, I have visited the insurance office. ‘Talmabout’, I am friendly, so you people should give me money to keep you alive. Oh, now I know why I didn’t write last week. I went on a driving cruise, and the vehicle had an accident. Like legit, smoke was coming out everywhere, and I…