@nzurixnzuri’s letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Bunmi’s letter.

Hang in there.

Victoria's Letter

Bunmi’s Letter

Dear daughter,

For a little girl with eyes wide shut and arms wide open as these words inundate her very being.

Like arrows in the hand of a mighty man, this little girl is mine
This little girl is a part of me

Smiling in your sleep,I wonder what makes you smile so
Is my little angel dreaming?
Is she dreaming of happy places and thinking happy thoughts?

Your eyes flutter open
And you smile at me
Your smile warms my heart like thermal socks on an English winter night
And I tell you this feeling right here is a genesis older than the big bang

Looking into your eyes, I smile back
Lighting up like a thousand fireflies,
Your beautiful brown eyes are as pure as the driven snow
Eyes filled with all the innocence and curiosity that comes with being a new-born
I see that curiosity in your eyes,
Like Dora my little angel is eager to take on the world
This meretricious world you’re so eager to explore is evil and cold

Darling daughter you are not grey, yellow or beige
Your skin is the color of your father’s joy and your mother’s love
Despite what society and television tell you, hard work, sincerity and honesty are more important than the price of your handbag or red-soled shoes.

When you are up to your knees in disappointment
When, planning your crucifixion,
Life pins you from side
When you’re overwhelmed
Baby,you don’t have to bear it all on own
I have no red cape but baby girl I’d be your Supermom
I’d always have comfort food for those days when the glitter fades,
And you feel torn and dejected.
We’d eat popcorn and chocolates
Watch reruns of Friends
And most importantly take it to the Lord in prayer

Do not fret darling child
Like the sand welcomes the ocean,
He’s always there to receive you in his arms.
When you feel you’re not good enough Remember God made you good enough.
Don’t you dare forget, you are the strongest creature to exist, you’re His masterpiece
You have the light to fight the darkness
Don’t you dare forget!
He made you beautiful!
He made you unique!

Dear daughter,
Have big dreams
Invest in your mind
Read far and wide,
For indeed,
The secrets to this world
Are found,
Where pen and paper confluence
Be grateful for everything you have
And everyone you meet.
Like Barak on that cold January morning As he made history,
Dear daughter stand tall and proud. Fashion your arms like airplanes
And say to yourself…

“I AM PRICELESS”!

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project continues on monday, with @ObaFuntAy’s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@Seuntomas’ Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Seun Thomas’ letter.

Hang in there.

Seun's Letter.

Seun’s Letter.

Hey son,

If you’re reading this, then it means somewhere along the line I met a wonderful woman, my life changed and our romance was epic, we did the nasty and now we have you.

I’m sure you think I’m awesome, I think I am too. I’m sure you’re wondering how I was as a younger man, I hope this letter gives you some insight. I know I can’t get any shorter, but at the moment, I’m about 6’5, I’m skinny and my hair is shaggy, I never comb it.

I don’t have a girlfriend, but don’t be scared, just like you I like girls, I won’t give you an exact figure but best believe your father had been with a fair share of women before he met your mother, but that’s a story for another day, remind me to tell you how I met your mother.

Its 2013, wizkid is the shit!! There’s this movie you have to watch: The Protector, with Tony Jaa being the actor. Damn! That movie is epic, bear in mind, her opinion of the film was an important factor in the decision to make your mother my wife, but like I said, that’s a story for another day.

One of these days, when I’m feeling emotional I’ll probably explain the emotions behind this letter, I think I have to give some sort of advice here, so the people reading your uncle Funto’s blog don’t think too poorly of your awesome daddy(they can’t really do that sha, I’m just patronizing them).

Where was I? Yh, advice. Lemme see, well, first of all, never mix alomo and vodka, that shit would mess you up, have you calling girls in the middle of the night from your university hostel room in your final year, have you dancing like a maniac and make you wake up the next morning screaming.

If you haven’t pissed your grandma off yet, I’m sure you probably have, its impossible not to. Don’t. She will smack you anywhere, anytime.

I won’t tell you not to be player, just don’t ever get caught, what I will tell you, is to be careful, girls are crazy.

If you ever smoke weed, I will know, if you sneak a girl to the house, I will know. If you touch my G-wagon, I will know, and I will kill you, remember that.

Try your best with school, cheesy as it may sound its important, you’ll feel good about yourself if you do well, that’s what’s important, that’s what should motivate you.

Sha sha, take it easy, be cool, I love you.

Your dad.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with @nzurixnzuri‘s (victoriadegboye) letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@Aw3L3’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Awele’s letter.

Hang in there.

Aw3L3's Letter

Awele’s Letter

Hey, beautiful one.

The world is very lucky to have you, and the people who ought to realize this, will, soon enough. It’s an outrageous world you live in; you will meet bizarre people, experience weird and wonderful things. You must learn to take everything in your stride. You know my dear; I have so much faith in you and your abilities. I believe you can take on anything. However, Mother’s faith in you is nothing if you have no belief in yourself. The salt of the earth, the light of the world, a great man has called us, and I believe him. Logical isn’t it, that we are all created to carve out our own niche in humanity, to make someone or people happier, more comfortable, better? That we’re not just puppets inspired by some superior being’s desire to play large scale monopoly? You are special, and different, never let anyone tell you otherwise. Never believe anyone who calls you useless. You have a purpose, and even if it weren’t a niche, you must realize, that your breathing makes your father and I very happy and grateful. Regardless of how the irrelevant others might see it, you are so important. Believe strongly in yourself, and all the good that you choose to be. You will realize as you grow older, that people will form opinions about you, offer unsolicited advice about things in your life they really know nothing about. Use your discretion. You cannot afford to listen to everyone. They cannot all be right or goodness which way will you go? You see why you must have faith in who you are; once you do, every other voice will be the backdrop of your glorious existence.

One thing I have learned my child, is friends never really stay. They come and go in phases. Some leave us by our own doing, the loss of some may be our undoing, and if we are lucky, the amazing ones leave to return. You must expect this, brace yourself for the impending hurt if necessary, but never act like it. Don’t push people away because you think they might not stay. Enjoy friendships while they last, bask in the relationships that edify and truly make you happy, and learn from them. Again I warn you to use your discretion; not everyone who will cozy up to you likes you, and not everyone you meet will like you for the right reasons, whatever those reasons may be to you. Make your mistakes; some lessons must be learned firsthand, and the hope that keeps us going makes us want to try out in places and things where others have failed. Where would have been the faith in yourself and your abilities, if another’s failure daunted you? So make your mistakes. But learn from them, also.

Boys are a riveting group, aren’t they? Some are senseless beyond understanding; others so charming and gifted you can hardly take it. And all the better to observe when they become men. So are girls anyway. You must neither be deceived, nor deceive yourself; underneath the display of adoration, professed love, what men really want is sex. It might not be all they want, but that of course, is for you decide. No man wants anything more than regular coitus from an irresponsible woman. And if, God forbid you choose that path, you will find yourself invariably without a companion because really, no one wants to be with someone who has no standards, limits or value system. When you realize what you want from a man, you will prep yourself accordingly. I will leave the stern advice, direct exact warning, and rules to your father. There’s no one better to give you advice on men, that one himself, and one who loves you unconditionally. I love you also. I love you very much. Without reservation, and in spite of your past and future errors. You will become a great person, and I feel proud of you already.

Love,

Mother.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with Olawale‘s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@Scarville’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Jenim’s letter.

Hang in there.

Jenim's Letter

Jenim’s Letter

My child, my child
Welcome to a world I was welcomed to
What seems not so far long ago
When the air was not eerie
And life was placid and not so scary
Of course I lie, what is now is what has been
All you see, the sun hath seen
The air is tense and always dense
And life is acid, it makes no sense
But I know of one I met while I yet lived
And came to know and came to grow
To love forevermore
One from whom emerged branches
Branches loved differently by different souls
And has his roots deep in the human spirit
One inspired by the muses or of God himself
One that had the power to make a grown man weep
(I’m a woman, I wept a fountain)
And a new-born dance
One filled with words which are as shallow as a stream
Or as deep as the Pacific on a rainy night
One whose end calls for an encore
I met him as a child and it indeed was love at sight
For the rest of my days I sought for depth
In him was character no one could touch
Loved by all yet none could touch
He speaks aloud with lots of words
Silently moulding the lives of them which heard
I can only try and fail to explain to you
The joy that fills my heart when I listen to a song I love
Or when I fall in love with a song for the first time
The urge I feel to see the song again and again and only again
His words or his rhythm
Music is my only love
If one could plant a grin upon my face
Or put a grey upon my days
Or weave pain through my heart
It was music, it was music on any day
I watched in adoration as a hundred thousand people
Sang while the musician stopped singing and watched them sing his song
He laughs in joy for the song he wrote had changed lives
I smiled at the hope that music transferred to those in pain
I wondered at the most powerful creation
That had such an impact on the soul of man
How a frog needed not the eloquent voice of music
To have a song in his heart
The power it has over the feet of men
Oh, to sway and lift mortals off the ground
To neutralize the acidity of life
One that could make you high on a bridge
And depresses you at the refrain
Which modulates your emotions as the waves of the ocean
Mouths that can’t talk explain with music
Hearts that can’t beat say so in songs
In all you do, never disparage the branch a man loves
Love yours and always carry a song in your heart
Go for his lyrics, they’ll increase your depth
The rhythm is important, more so for the shallow
Guard your heart, music has his yin
Yes his darkness, which darkens the hearts of men
What more can I say of that I love
More than the air I breathe
The string instruments will melt a heart of stone
If you meet a boy that plays the violin, marry him
Oh, I kid, take me not seriously on that last line
But do marry him by all means necessary
The acoustic guitar, the piano I love too
The drums that beat the beating heart
The harp, the flute, the sax, the mute
Doth play, music hath no inhibition
I’ve loved a few, a few have loved back
But when the wind it blew, it blew both loves away
And memories are all that’s left
Music was with me before I loved
And picked my heart from the floor
And with the hand of time healed it more
The secret chord that David played
That pleased God and king him made
On the wings of music I talk to God
As Moses did, face to face, heart to heart
The children’s flaw hath made them bound
Their captors required of them a song
God’s own children could not sing his song in a strange land
What indeed is in a song
That frees the slave with amazing grace
On days of angst, music reminds me I’m not alone
What’s a song but a heart that’s dancing through the mouth
And when the mouth be dumb
The heart it dances through the feet
And when the feet be numb
The heart it dances through the ears
And when the hearing’s gone
And it seems that sound can no more be born
And music can no more be heard
And he who hears not wishes he were dead
God creates a man to show the world
What music seems and what music means
He named him Ludwig Van Beethoven
He who once heard but one day heard no more
And when this acid of life was poured upon his face
He wished to see his days end before his day
But when hope hath walked to him
And shook his hand and sat with him
He composed his Ninth Symphony
With his heart’s melody
And when the performance was done
He with his back to the crowd
Heard not the thundering applause of the audience
That gave him reverence
Till he was turned, and began to weep
And he which heard not changed the century in which he lived
Music is faith, that tells you light up, even if you cannot hear my voice I’ll be right beside you dear
Music is hope, that tells you if everything we got is fading away, we’ve a rock in a Rock till our dying day
Music is a voice, when he declares: questions of science, science and progress do not speak as loud as my heart
Music is a friend, especially to the lonely, he says I’m holding onto you holding on to me, maybe its all we’ve got but its all I need
Music is spiritual, that transcendental breeze between mortality and deity
Music is healing, he whispers, tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace but I will try to fix you
Music is sublime, as water is to the body so is music to the soul
Music is peace, it lays the soul at war upon lake placid to take a nap
Above all, my child, music is life alive
Before you took your first breath it was
After you take your last it’ll be
But do not dare take that deep, sorrowful last breath my child
Without letting the world hear your song by the life you’ve lived.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with Aw3L3’s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@EdGothBoy’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now!  Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Ed’s letter.

Hang in there.

Ed's Letter.

Ed’s Letter.

Hey baby,

I don’t know if you’re going to be a boy or a girl.
I don’t think it’s that important which one you are.

At least, not anymore.

A few months ago, my thoughts on the matter were very different. I wanted a girl so bad. Because the boys I saw, in real life and on social media were all jerks. And they were mean to girls. They were so very mean, they did terrible things to them, said terrible things to them, and afterwards, they would say things like ‘with all the things I have seen and done, I don’t want a daughter.’ And for that reason and many others, I didn’t want a son. I was of the opinion that it was better to have a girl to protect from being a victim of this cruel world, than have a son who would be so influenced by everyone around him, that he would become one of those beasts that scared me so much. Darling, no I’m not anti-men. Not anymore.

I want you to come as what you are, because you will be more important to me than anything else in the world. You will be a new life, one I helped to create. Lord will I cry when you come, I will bawl like a baby when I hold you in my arms for the first time, feel your perfect skin rub against mine, your beautiful hands reach for me and your eyes survey the world for the first time with that unhindered curiosity. I know your eyes will be tinged slightly blue because its something that runs in our family lines. And I will notice it fade and become plain white because I will always look you in the eyes when I talk to you, when I praise you for acing that test, or scold you for punching that girl in the playground even though she deserved it. I will never shy from disciplining you when it is necessary, because I was disciplined as a kid and even though they seemed so monumental at the time, now I look back and I can’t even remember a single time I was flogged that I didn’t deserve it. I even look back at them fondly, laughing at my mother’s code word for ‘get me the cane’.

I want you to meet your grandparents. I hope they’re still alive when you come. Your grandmother is so beautiful, it’s scary. And she’s strong, the strongest woman I know. Generous too, even though sometimes it gets too much and your uncles complain quietly like old gossipy women. But she’s like me, in the sense that she can turn off those feelings in an instant and walk away. Gramps is a veritable fountain of knowledge, he’s sometimes intense but growing up with three sisters does that to you. In a perfect world, I would be a stay-at-home dad, so I could give you all the time you want, always be there for you. I want when you’re 22 and in university, you’ll look back and think of me and remember all the days when you were the only kid in your group who talked about your dad cooking your meals and checking your homework and tucking you into bed when everyone else talks about their mom. Cos that’s what I remember about my own dad, your gramps. I remember him when I was about 8, putting a novel about a girl who made green finger sandwiches in my hands and urging me to read, because he was so exhausted from caring for three teenage girls and three boys below ten and me always getting up to go steal his Interview with the Vampire to read while he took his own siesta. I remember him catching me but pretending not to notice because he was happy I was taking initiative. I remember him checking my homework, and laughing at how simple the sums I failed were. I want you to have that too, memories so fond, so vivid. I want that to be the biggest gift I give you in your childhood, not fancy toys, not television and video games, vivid memories of a happy childhood that lasts you your entire life.

When you cross into the tumultuous teenage years, I want to have protected you and yet exposed you enough that you are able to handle most things but you are also well aware that I am here when things get too much for you. I want you to know it is okay to be depressed. It’s okay to be tantrum-y and act out a little. Even the most basic experimentation. I want you to know that no matter what side of the relationship fence you are, hurt is inevitable. And I want to prepare you for that as well as I can, because I know it’s foolish to try to protect you from it altogether.

I know I can’t be your best friend because I’ll be too busy being your dad, but I’ll do my best to be so fair to you then that while you might hate me sometimes as teenagers are wont to do, you will always grudgingly admire me for who I am. And even when I don’t meet up, you’ll always have your uncle, my twin. That one will be cool FOREVER!!!! So when you feel you can’t talk to me, I will make sure, he’s always there for you. I will work extremely hard so that you will always be one of the lucky kids who has both parents seated beside each other hands held when you have your first recital, when you graduate and when you say ‘I do’.

I will give you many gifts over the course of our lives together. But of all the gifts I will try to give you three above all others, A happy safe childhood, a strong support filled adolescence and freedom to be your own person as an adult. I will teach you only two things. Always love without expecting anything back, and learn to accept people as they are. Never force them to change into who you think they should be, just love the ones you can unconditionally and treat the rest with the same civil politeness you would expect of them.
Above all, know that I love you.

(P.S I really, really really hope you come to love all the music that I do.)

Ed.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with @FrankUgo_’s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

Letter to my unborn child, The Preview

This would be the second project on obafuntay.com, a big thank you to the contributors of this project who didn’t mind me disturbing them every other minute just to make this possible.

lrt son

Starting from the 19th, we’d be publishing these letters,everyday.

@EdGothBoy’s Letter
@ObaFuntAy’s Letter
@Seuntomas’ Letter
@FrankUgo_’s Letter
Olawale Ayoade’s Letter

ltr to unborn female

@scarville’s Letter
@Aw3L3’s Letter
@Femme_Fatale018 Letter
@TheSilentMaeve’s Letter
@Victoriadegboye’s Letter

On this project, we have 5 male writers/bloggers and 5 female writers/bloggers writing letters addressed to their unborn sons and daughters. Here, we aim to tell our unborn kids, things we would want them to know about life, friends, relationships, from personal experiences and lessons assuming we can’t get to tell them in person.

You can send in your letters to obafuntay@gmail.com and subscribe to the blog (at the right column) to follow the project, (if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)