Aramanda Okunrin

   Early in life, I got used to being wrongly profiled. There was always this idea that I was privileged, that I got things because of birth and proximity to certain leads. I also learned not to react to them quite early in life, not because anyone told me to ignore such unfair assumptions, but because they get repeated so often that I knew not to pay attention. My parents were teachers. Although I had been exposed to some learning earlier than some children of my age, because books were always around me, I was not formally registered in school until I reached the age of six in 1972. It gave me an initial edge; I already knew what some other kids in higher classes knew that the primary one I was registered in did not. But that was going to have its downside, which my parents never knew and which I wasn’t conscious of until I worked briefly as a teacher. It was going to affect my concentration in the classroom, a burden I carried throughout my undergraduate years. Having covere...

 First published at Frontpag e on March 8, 2026 Celebration of women by the Nigerian state and non-state entities, especially during global moments such as International Women's Day, is a regular occurrence. The Nigerian government, through relevant ministries, agencies and institutions, never fails to organise activities, events and gatherings, both sombre and trivial, on such days. Although some of these celebrations may sometimes appear facetious, what remains constant is the state's intentionality in celebrating women. At the highest level of government in the country, women have been celebrated for their contributions to national development and strength. In 2024, for instance, President Bola Tinubu, according to his former spokesperson, Ajuri Ngelale, acknowledged the value that women bring to the table stated that “in every discipline and field of human endeavour, the standout achievements of Nigerian women have become a testament to the resilience, strength, courage, an...

  First published in  Premium Times  on January 2, 2025 The 2024 Christmas revelry, which many families in Nigeria had envisaged, turned into a period of mourning. The series of gory, bloodied Christmas news commenced in the ancient city of Ibadan when news broke on Wednesday, December 18, of the deaths of minors at a charity event organised to provide support to 5,000 indigent children. Just as the country was grappling with the gory tales of at least 35 children being trampled upon in the rush to gain entry into the venue of the charity event, and accounts of desperate parents unwittingly throwing their children over the fence at the venue into death, another sad news broke. On Saturday, December 21, not less than 20 deaths were recorded at another stampede at Okija community in Anambra State, while 10 deaths were recorded at the country’s capital city, Abuja, at a church in the highbrow Maitama. At both venues, people converged to receive food distributions from privat...

  I never thought I would reach this point. There had been times, when reflecting on past incidents, I wondered what forces were at play. Or was it because death itself realised I never for once, either as a kid or as an adult, feared that there would be that last breath. There had been times when there were close calls. Here I am, a year closer to 60. That changed the title of “A year closer to death”, I had consistently used since 1992 on my birthday anniversaries. Quite some interesting journey with twists, some astonishing, some confounding, some teary, some evoking hearty laughter. There were moments when I wondered how life could be so blessed, and there were moments when I wondered how ruthless life could be. I had moments when I felt stupid, actually felt no other person could be more stupid than I was at the moments, there were also moments when I felt life in a mischievous twist turned my idiocy to wisdom, moments I wondered who this brilliant guy is, and some moment I wi...

 As the year 2023 rolls out in a few hours, I have found myself mentally scrolling through pages in the year. One thing I hardly do is join in the usual ritual of end of calendar year taking stock and new year resolution making. I respond to that frenzy to join the New Year resolution and some self-adulation or self-flagellation people engage in the same way I respond to birthday celebration. I have no problem with others indulging in such acts, if it works for them, it just doesn’t work for me. Taking stock is an ongoing thing for me. I don’t set a day aside for it. I don’t know what happened this time, maybe it is age, maybe because of the attempt at taking a semblance of a real break in several years, I find myself joining in the self-indulgence of that ritual. I suspect too, that the public presentation of a book, “Our Punch Year”, reminiscences of some 38 former editors and staff of the Punch Newspapers, may have also been a trigger. I had gotten into the year 2023 exhausted f...

I was not there in 2019. I was too distraught to venture out to cast a vote. I knew it was going to be a farce. I had in 2011 and 2015 voted right there at the back of my residence. Lucky for me, my polling centre was right there in the public primary school behind my house. Walking down my street and turning around to enter the school premises was less than a five-minute walk. This year, it would be a 15-minute drive, but that urge to share in the optimism out there was irresistible, even if I felt it was another dream that would laugh in our faces in no far distance. And I drove the whole stretch from Gudu to Wuse Zone 6 Abuja. And there seems to be on the streets that intense optimism - or is it just hope - that this could be different. I counted four security checkpoints, mounted by women and men of the Nigeria Police, the Civil Defense, and the Federal Fire Service. All were civil, and all appeared high on some positive energy. Taking another route, a longer one and counting this ...

The year 2022 was unique for me in many ways. So unique I for once am joining the crowd in this sometimes-arcane task of writing an undecided elegy or celebratory song to a to-be-exited year. Nearing six decades on earth, I have to confess that there are not many years I can recall having had the effect the year 2022 has had on me. It is a year in which I was repeatedly told more than ever before what I have, that I began to wonder if for years, nay decades, I have not short-changed myself. And yet in the same year, I have felt more vulnerable and unsure of myself than in any previous year. Not even in my sophomore year at the then University of Ife, when I felt everything was crashing around me, when I wasn’t sure it would not be better to pack things up and return home, did I feel this vulnerable.  Looking back at happenings in the year, I recall vividly those moments when I felt rewarded by the successes of friends, colleagues and the special people around me. Some of the su...