The Seventh Day: Bankole


Allow me to start on a light note. If you listen to Nigerian pop, you should be able to relate.

Single-celled organism 1: Who am I?

Single-celled organism 1: Amoeba!

Unlike that cheeky little guy, however, the curator would not suffer me to be succinct, so, whenever I’ve been required to fill an online form with an answer to that question within the past two years, this is how I’ve answered:


However, I rarely give this answer to people in real life – it’s not really a good one. A lot of times, when I meet young people like myself in a casual setting, I tell them I’m an artist because I don’t like to explain the meaning of bohemian. Also, being bohemian isn’t right for  every context.

When I meet someone in the business world, I tell them I’m a creative. (It so happens that I almost blurted out “I’m bohemian” at a job interview). When I meet someone who I’m romantically interested in, I tell them I’m a bird (if I can be that honest).  But honestly, telling people that I am something is so that they can put a sticker on my forehead and consider me catalogued.

“Oh, he’s weird.” They’d say, “He’s the hippie type.”

But when I’m alone and I ask myself this question, I juggle descriptive nouns for hours on end. Most times, I give up and call myself a wanderer because a wanderer is not anything really.

I read once that there is no self-discovery, but there can be self-creation, and although, one can debate that such phrases are a play on semantics, it makes sense to me. I’ve been a lot of things and I’m still finding what my favorite kind of ‘be-s’ are.

Maybe someday I’d have a list and be done with it and label myself that kind of person. Maybe I won’t go out of my way anymore to take a walk in other pairs of sexy shoes – I’d be an old soul, just alright with where I am and all the ‘who-s’ that come along with that position.


Or maybe not!


7 responses to “The Seventh Day: Bankole

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