Happy women’s Day

Image result for powerful women abstract paintings

Picture gotten from-Figurative art

To be here, to join hands and to murmur what it’s like to feel this way. To feel like a woman that I didn’t choose to be but of the nature that chose me.

Here is to all the days and all the nights I stay with me, with womanhood thinking of how big of a smile I should give the next day even whilst groaning in pain. Here’s for now, where neglect and responsibility will cut through deep layers of my skin, yet I’ll stand and be silent of it all. I wish to celebrate everyday for the rest of my life women whose existence have hurt and broken them in ways that can’t be told or written, yet love is all they give.

To women of all colours and roles in life, you are a bold statue that can’t be washed away by lingering figures. You are waterproof and transparent amidst where you think you’ve been. You are still a rose to be admired by men that stand with you. You are deserving of all favours you’ve been turned down. You are all this because you are a woman.

The universe will make love to you in good timing, woman. we will all celebrate the joy and pride of being a woman with you because you are valuable and valid.

I hope you take care of yourself everyday for the rest of your days here. Happy WOMEN’S DAY!

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.


Blogging series 6: Public appraisal

by Emediong Etetim

In the world where your life is being judged by your online content, where you do not have an interesting day if it isn’t posted on snapchat or your style sense isn’t on par if you do not have a crisp photo on Instagram showing off your latest designer purchase. It is not very surprising that self validation is also being set by twitter’s standards.


Picture gotten from-Pixabay

In the world where trends are to be followed in order to stay relevant, where everyone’s mind is now programmed to think alike, to act alike, if you do not know the latest music releases, the latest celebrity couples and their cats, the most recent dance moves, or you’re not sporting the pointiest eyeliner, then “girl you tripping”. And you’d sit and wonder whatever happened to ‘uniqueness’.

The words ‘different’, ‘special’, ‘unique’ are all slowly getting lost in our dictionary. Everyone doing all they can to stay relevant even if it means morphing into carbon copies of already existing duplicates. Everyone trying to standout as a clone that they are forgetting that a photocopy will always remain just a mediocre of the original.

We’re all walking, talking faceless ‘ordinaries’ allowing ‘relevance’ to draw patterns unto us as they deem fit, still lacking distinction regardless.

To those who have managed to stay true, and self aware…

Part 2 contributed by Dyna Ekwueme

To those who don’t fall for mediocrity and cliché of existing contents and lifestyle. To those who don’t fit in the stereotypes displayed by the society and pressure exerted by peers and the  outside world that can’t see through their walls. This is not for you.

I want to speak my mind. I want to be free like that little child, be open to learning new things and absorbing the differences in us that shapes our inner minds. I want to be feared by my fears, put what matters first and not what appears to be important. I want to love not for the fashion or looks or the utterances made by jealous minds. I want to care less about the public, be humbled by little beginnings and fight for those who can’t find strength within them, yet I still crave to act otherwise because it’s what the public wants. That is the better way I believe the public can better appraise me. What a mess!

Do you write for your sake or that of the others?

Can you atone for the times you failed to recognize what could have been better? Is it ego or is it just us who are slowly dying from what the world has thrown at us? How much more are you willing to let out before you tell the real story behind how far you’ve come? where do you recognize as home? Here or there?

Disclaimer: This post was originally written and inspired by Emediong Etetim and part contributed by me. There was no third party to this collaboration.

Find out more about Emediong ( For lifestyle, fashion and real  life collaborations) on


IG- @em.etetim

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Evidence: In My Own Skin

I don’t know what’s hidden behind your own pigment. As an individual, I can’t speak for your own representation, the way you want the world to see you, the way you choose to feel.

Picture gotten from-BlackandWhite

I use “I”.

I use it because as a person, you are allowed what you are, your opinions, thoughts, perception. Freedom. You.

What about “us”?

Collectively we’ve made generations, we’ve brought about various changes, we’ve stood against fear, we’ve beared war strokes, we’ve failed and conquered, we’ve told these stories over and over yet we’ve only been able to achieve these by mere differences in skin colour.

You still believe in different races?

How many parents have inculcated values, norms and discipline without speaking of other skin colours? How many of us have been promised a position or title without having a black, white or mixed skin option stall us? How many are guilty of the type of skin colour they allow in their space? How many still don’t believe in one race, the human race?

“I’m white, you’re not, I’m black, you’re not”

How long are we willing to go on for?

As a black woman, I believe in my roots and culture. I believe in the wars of my heroes’ past. I believe that those wars were won for my freedom today. I believe I’m seldom jugded by the profounding effect of my melanocytes, distrusted often and doubted when I’m most willing. I believe I have to be sorry even when I’m not, questioned for my rights in another man’s country. I believe I have to go hard if ever I want to rise above standards. I believe I’m unique, so are you, no matter what your skin colour is.

In this age, more people are being educated on oneness, more are taught on accepting every other distinct colour from theirs yet, in this age the skin colour black still bleeds. It is still perceived as unaccepted in most parts of the world, demeaning individuals who bear them.

How more can I be Human?

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Poetic injustice


In sharp swords we wrote love songs

In hopes we meet our pen pals.

sergio larrain - Black and White Photography books of the year - Telegraph:

Picture gotten from-PinInterest

Modern adults,

Wailing and jumping in tiny wood homes

The kind of music that rips the heart apart.


Every mermaids’ kind of light

whether true or not, it’s right.



historians that kept epistles, lost tales with unending humour?

Time was an exchange, in pleasing rates.

I’d like to be a salmon for a day

I’d like to swim someday

Send voice notes to prominent men

In preparation for the great deal of rain


Pen scouts,

Hovering around parks to find girls that lie and write

we did become some and not all,

we lost the moon while counting their feet.


Write me these kind of poems,

remind me how stubborn I can be.

Paint every word of yours with the memories that weren’t meant to be,

so I can make one more wish.

My ink just ran out.

Incomplete makes me, what does you?



Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.





Supreme imitation

The only authentic idea there is, is ‘nothing‘ as nothing sprouts from nothing. Every new idea is a replica of one that hasn’t been made to exist (still in thoughts and minds of roaming people)  and also that which has already been made.

Black & White. Anonymous. Layers. Hats. Ghosts. Fashion. Art. Message. Boots. Model. Three. Modern.:

Picture gotten from-Pinterest

We talk about change. Ideas, perceptions, goals, theories, beliefs and so on, are all made alive to bring about change. Change is a supreme imitation which can be forged.

There are many people out there whose ideas sprout from others, of course this is our existence. It is human evolution. There are authentic outcomes that are brought about from pre-existing notions and experiences. In fact there are people who are weak at creating something tangible that has never been done before and there are those of us who are the opposite. This blog post relates to the former.

Facebook. We can all talk about it’s originality, and yes it is truly original. One man came up with the idea of a convenient means of communication which was totally different from what it used to be back in time, but do you think he was the only one who thought of a way for humans to communicate better?  There are many instances of brilliant innovations that have been put to place today by geniuses and these geniuses, we sometimes forget are humans too. Whatsoever they’ve put out like I said is a replica of one that hasn’t been made to exist (still in thoughts and minds of roaming people)  and also that which has already been made.

Most of us have role models, people that inspire us in different ways, people we look up to, tutors, teachers and what have you, but we fail most times to realize that we can gain those attributes we see in them in better ways, not necessarily the exact same way they put it out, but in ways that are more authentic and supreme.

I learn more from me by hearing and reading about other peoples’ experiences. I put words together when I’m inspired by the way others write sometimes. I mimic what others do with a bit of my own spice whilst giving credit to them. This doesn’t make me unoriginal, it only makes my own imitation supreme.

Are you more of a supreme imitator or an original creator? where does your ideas sprout from? I’d like to know dear bloggers.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.



See translation below.


Abu m ihe  mbu,

Abum ihe Chi’m si na mbu.

Ogologo uzo ka’m jiri bia eba,

ma anom, kwudosike na enye ekele.

M na-agozi nwanyi nyere m aha mu, nne m,

na-agozi kwa nwoke sochata obi’m, nna m.

Mbge ufodu, ndi mmadu agwunaghi m

ma ana m ahu nka na mgbu,

ana m ahu ebube n’uru.

Ije nke ma, O puru eche naani,

ma amutago m otu ihe,


E nwere m obi isi ike,

Nke na enye reminisces m nsogbu.

Ututu obula nketara ura, m na cho ebe obibi mu, k’amu efuola,

ma otutu ugboro efugo mu n’ezi,


Efugo mu na gburugburu m, na ohere m ya na uwa m

ma unu ma mu azoputaghi m,

naani nkeko m jide siri ike .

Abu m ihe mbu,

Nma n’ime echiche m

Abu m Chidinma, nwata nwanyi na ede na otutu abstract.



I am what I am,

I am who my creator says I am.

It took a long way to get here,

but here, strong and thankful

I bless the woman that named me, my mother,

the only man after my own heart, my father.

Sometimes people fail me,

but I see art in pain,

I see glory in the gain.

This walk of mine, alone it could feel,

but I’ve learnt one thing,


I do have a stubborn heart,

one that troubles my reminisces.

I wake up every morning wanting home, like I’m lost

But most times I’m truly lost,


Lost in my circle, space and world,

Neither you or me saves me

Only the bond that I hold unto

 I am what I am,

 a beauty within my own reflection

I am Chidinma, the girl who writes in abstracts.

The first part of this write up is written in Igbo (general), one of the major languages in Nigeria, West Africa. It was inspired by my love for my culture, my people and my nation. Although appropriate punctuation wasn’t made, I hope a native and non- native reader find strength in those words.  Thank you for making it here. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.




Shout for a purpose #30

Miracles do happen, even in our own disbelieves they happen without signs.

Ever heard of the story of a girl in a moderately populated middle school that asked for permission to use the loo during her English class? She got locked up by a faulty bolted door in the toilet and kept screaming and crying for help. Unfortunately, no one came to her aid. Banging the door real hard to push it down was in vain and she panicked and wailed. She thought of her teacher who might have thought she left the class just to miss her lecture and also thought about herself, the fear of never coming out of the toilet again. Then she began to pray, asking God to do something. She had no prayer point in mind but she believed that God was there with her and knows what she really wanted at that point. Immediately she opened her eyes, she touched the door in disbelieve only to realize that it was opened already. Washing her face off with the tap water, she smiled at herself knowing that she has just been crying for a door that was open. She didn’t know if that was a miracle or just a mere hallucination. She just couldn’t forget that day.

That Girl in the toilet was me. I grew up realizing that it was truly a miracle and till today I feared letting it known to people because I would only be laughed at. What miracle can ever happen in the toilet? That is what most people would ask I guess. People give testimonies of their redemption or success from/in something and it never pushes me to say mine. I feel most times that there is nothing huge in my life to tell people, no serious miracle whatsoever. Nonetheless, when I take a deep look into my life, most favours that I regard as luck are miracles.

Perhaps you are reading this and you totally relate with what I’m saying, it wouldn’t do you any harm to share with others the things that you conquer. People get inspirations from it. People survive from other people’s miracles. You might say you don’t have one, consider waking up every morning, breathing, going back to sleep and dreaming. Are all these favours? or just luck?

Not everyone believes in God or prayers or even miracles but I know every one at some point in their lives must have been redeemed from something. It takes nothing to share your experience with the world. It’s never too little or short. It’s your experience and people would learn from it.

It is quite sunny today and am loving the weather, hope you all are having a good day too? I would be glad to have you share your thoughts in the reply box below. Thank You.


Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2015.

Winter in Summer #16

It’s beginning to appear crystal clear, the bitter sweet feelings of a girl searching for more to herself.

Sometimes I feel that there isn’t more, sometimes I just feel I push myself way harder to try. It’s a lonely walk but it’s a joyous one. People come and go, whispers sing and fade out. Still, I am just that girl.

I look at things from a porters view. I don’t look for edges but cracks and holes that might leak what I’ve built already. The innocence of trust, truth and good is what I crave relentlessly and this writing journey has flavoured it in every way. Positive and true minds are people I want to be surrounded by. Hard as it may seem but not impossible.

Behind every strength possessed by any being lies hidden goals and agendas, so does a good heart. Some people give because they know what it means to lack and others do it ordinarily. I’ve heard stories, real life stories, I’ve heard close friends disclose what they’ve been through to be where they are. Close friends who have been through hard times because of mere wickedness. I’ve cried and pondered on them but in all am still thankful for where I am. I started this journey because of so many situations that have revolved around my life and the lives of people around me. I was inspired and still needed inspirations to move on. Sometimes, darkness gets to me. Things that lead me away from who I am overshadow me, but I still hold on. I keep learning.

Even if your feet can’t fit in my shoes, am certain we might wear same size. If it feels like my words and your feelings are alike, never stop moving on. Never settle. Hope you had a wonderful Thursday? share with us your thoughts and experiences. Thank you.


Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2015.