The Art of Following a Blog

Why do you follow The Naija writer?

The Daily Post

Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, your blog: pitch a tent anywhere on the web, and the expectation is that people will quickly line up to give you a (virtual) high five in the form of a “follow.” I see it often enough in our own Community Pool posts here at The Daily Post: “Follow me and I’ll follow you back!”

It’s pretty clear what the followed blogger’s supposed to do: keep posting stuff that others enjoy reading. Be a gracious host. Ensure posts are readable. But what about the follower? Is there a job description for what happens after you click on a blog’s “Follow” button (or Follow Blog Widget)? Here’s some food for thought.

Don’t expect instant reciprocity

You shouldn’t take the plunge if you don’t want to read new content from the person whose blog you just followed.

When you follow a blog you’re making a light…

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When I Am President Of The World

When I am president of the world
I will ban ‘they’.
All that will be is
You and I,
Us,
We will do something about our planet,
Respond to health needs in our world, wherever they occur,
We’ll learn to adore the brown, beige and popcorn of our skin,
We’ll taste each others names afresh and savour their sweetness on our tongues,
We’ll settle our differences, find ways to work around our dislikes,
When we are hungry, we will find food because what I so desperately need is what you are glutted with and now throw away.
In a world where there is no they, or them,
In a world where there is just you and me, us and we,
There will be no more pain.

Politically Incorrect Affair

There are no words for what we have
No terms to express
The tenderness
Specialness,
Sweetness
That is you and I,
So we hide
Pretend not to feel
Pretend not to care
Pretend not to smell each others hair,
We silence our hearts
Swallow ballads whole
Let our brown eyes flicker then dive to the floor,
Suffer without sound
As feelings well up and crash against our ribbed chests,
Living for stolen times
When our spirits meet
And like embraces like
Lips meet cheek
We commune in spirit
No need to speak.

God Seeker

Stop searching
For me in your test tubes
Stop groping for me in your equations
Stop straining your eyes against the stars to catch a glimpse of my existence.

Don’t stand
On the earth I created
And mouth blasphemy

Kneel
And accept you don’t know it all

Or else make your own planet and your moons

And venture into a galaxy
Of your own

Oh, but leave your earth suit behind
And the breath you borrowed from me.

Crescent and Cross

His hair,black short and curly
His eyes, large warm and doe-like
His voice and the way he says my name,
His hands and the way they wrap themselves around my frame,
A liaison most unlikely
A pact unapproved,
Can a crescent and a cross
Play as one?
Isn’t it strange
I travelled a thousand kilometres
To find him
A brother from another time
Sitting right next to me.

This Just Can’t Work

I watch her sashay past and rap on the door. She looks good in her ankle length gown, golden gele and bracelets that jingle like bells.

Oga opens the door and they share a kiss before he whisks her inside. Later that evening, they stroll out, whispering in each others ears. Oga tickles her, she laughs, a lilting soothing sound and I can’t remember hating anyone so much.

Soon they are back. Oga carries all the bags. They’ve bought rice, stew, salad and ice-cream. She is talking and twirling her hands in the air to make a point. That’s when I realise that something has to be done. If she goes on this way, she’ll be Mrs Ukwak by Saturday.

My options are limited. I am not bad as far as Mercedes Benz 190’s go but I am sure you can already see my difficulty. I can’t talk, at least not without giving Oga a heart attack and I can only influence things when they are close to me. But this is no time for excuses, it is a time for results, so deliver I must.

You must be wondering how my boss’ love interest is any of my business. What does a car stand to lose from a wedding? What loyal being wouldn’t want his owner happy, settled and fruitful? Definitely not me.

I want all that for my boss and more, only, not with Amara.

I know Amara from way back, I noticed her one day at the car wash when she came to see some guy called Carl. I was waiting my turn at the sponge and I couldn’t help over hearing the telephone conversation she was having.

“Oh Dani!”Amara squealed into the phone. “Of course I missed you. The thing is, I am not in town, I travelled to Kaduna for a retreat.”
“Sure, of course, I will. I love you too. You did? Thank you, the fifty thousand will go a long way. Thank you. Bye”

Her phone rang again.

“Wow! Emeka! Yeah, long time. I have missed you too. Aww, I couldn’t make it to Lagos anymore, but I’ll try to make it up to you. I promise. The money you sent is still in my account and once I get a break, you’ll be my first stop.” She was smiling at the phone and twirling her weave.

“Oh my goodness, you are in town? You should have told me baby, I am out in Jos on business. I told you I don’t do surprises. Anyone trying to surprise me only ends up surprising themselves.”

No kidding.

Before Carl came to pick her two other callers had been given three other stories, one of them was a even a woman. At some point, I had to read the sign boards around again to myself, I had to remind myself I was in Port Harcourt, not Jos, Kaduna, Dubai or Yenegoa.

Now here she was with Oga, playing the saint, I was having none of it.

I get my chance soon. The next morning they tumble in to rush her to work. She jumps out screaming. In the process, I rip her yellow silk blouse and smudge it with some grease.

“Ouch! Oh no, Jerry! That seat just burnt me! And look, my blouse is gone!”

Oga darts out and runs to her side. “What seat, Amara? Calm down. Let me see, it isn’t so bad. We can get a new one–”

“That seat,” she says, pointing at the front passenger seat. “That seat nearly peeled off my skin. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it wrecked my best silk blouse too.” By now her voice has risen a few octaves and she looks like she is about to cry. I feel like pinching her to hurry things on but I am busy.

I am working over time to cool the seat heater. I make it just in time for Oga’s probing fingers.

He runs his palms over the black leather seat with a frown on his face. “It is normal,Amy, a little warm but definitely not bum-burning.”

“But it just burnt my bum. I sat on it and it was like sitting on a hot plate.”

“Come on, Amara, don’t be dramatic. Let’s go before I get late.”

“Oh. So I am being dramatic now?” She replies with a flip of her braids. “Your useless, archaic, malfunctioning car burns me and I am being dramatic? Well, you better get going then because I am not going anywhere with you. Sorry broke ass.”

She grabs her bag and storms away before Oga can say a word. When he recovers enough to ask her to wait, she is gone.

I smile inside. I am savouring this little victory. Oga ll probably go begging to bring her back and maybe he’ll succeed. But I have a plan for that.

For now, let’s enjoy the peace.

Dear NaijaWriter Reader

Hi,
I hope you are doing well where ever you are. I hope you are safe from wars and strange diseases. I hope your family is fine too. And your bank accounts and your livelihood.

It just struck me that we hardly know each other. Understandably so, really, there’s only so much one can know about the other on the Internet.

Even so, I would like to know more about you. Where do you live? What do you do? What is your favourite book? What does your wish list look like?

I’ll go first.

I live in Nigeria.

I travel a lot but I am in Abuja right now.

I do many things, like writing, medical services, teaching, networking, and learning. Right now, I am a student.

My favourite book is the Bible. My favourite books in the Bible are Proverbs, Genesis, Ruth, Psalms, John, and Phillipians.
And my favourite version is the NLT.

I have a lot of other books I like: Half Of A Yellow Sun, All of Sidney Sheldon’s work, Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers, The Concubine by Elechi Amadi and others.

My wish list is long, very long. Some things there are: ending world illiteracy, giving a million dollars for the gospel, owning a plane, swimming with dolphins, having some of my work made into film…

So, enough about me. Tell me about yourself. You can use the same format I did or do something different.
You can be anonymous if you want to. Just tell me about yourself and also what you enjoy about this blog (a little of what you don’t enjoy is fine too). If you have a question, you can ask too.

Finally, thank you, for reading, for subscribing, for commenting and for making this blog complete.

God bless you.