The other day, while listening to my collection of Yòrùbá gospel music, I was listening to this particular lady singer, who has a unique way of singing and eulogizing God. While the song played, my daughter sang along because she liked the song too.   I listened to her mouthing the lyrics and I really just wanted to faint. My beloved ’Tisé just ‘murdered’ Yòrùbá language. I was sure our ancestors


  “Ti mbá gbó peem peren, tié bá o” (meaning if I hear the slightest sound at all, you will earn yourself more trouble). These were the words I said to my son after dealing him some resounding smacks. He was caught between the proverbial Red Sea and the Egyptians.   His pain wanted him to shout but his mum is saying he shouldn’t even dare to. He doesn’t know


Is that how to sweep?” I shouted at my son with high disapproval that I saw the puzzled look on his face. He was lost. He didn’t know what to do next. I was upset and ready to give him abada (smack). “How can’t you know how to sweep? Is it not just simple sweeping? O ga o!” At this point, my conscience pricked me (questioning whether I actually taught