Letter to Mark Zuckerberg: The Deeper Ramifications and Implications of Selective Social Media Censorship

🌹♡Happy♡Mothers♡Day♡🌹 ！！！

With no disrespect to my father, this is an ode to my three Mothers💕 without whose guidance. my survival, growth and development would have been non-existent. I LOVE YOU💕 #RIP

- ODE TO MY MOTHERS -

Mommy♡, Maa'mi♡, Mama Agba♡, (Mother, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother), you are my true holy trinity. Thank You. Thank you for your wisdom, courage, intellect, insight, perseverance, guidance, encouragement and your unconditional love. I shall never allow my love for you to cease, in your voices and guiding hands I found comfort, hope, love and peace. In your perseverance, in the face of all odds, I learn the true meaning of resilience. Thank you for your mentoring, patience and steadfast support…thank you for being you throughout it all. In truth, I don't have the words to adequately express my appreciation, but it would be remiss of me if I didn't try.

I miss the tiny affectionate expressions, a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a timely explanation of African traditional religion before Western (dis)information could tar it with the "voodoo" label, the constant loving kisses on my face and my boo-boos, and admonishments when I needed them. I miss the genuine and reassuring hugs, the encouraging smiles in my direction which always brightened the day, wiping away the grime of my fears and soothing the chaotic foray; listening, supporting, and ever-forgiving, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your genes and your being. You were the individuals who loved me without reason, who did not arbitrarily change, no matter the season. Unique personas who stuck by your progeny, and never diluted the truth, incandescent refined African goddesses that could not tolerate the uncouth.

Mom, your loving soul always knew my worth, the genuine and warm being I have known since my birth, you're the inspiration that made me aspire to achieve great things, a blissful soul that believed I had wings. I can not count all the ways you cared for me, nor can I ever repay you for the love you shared, I will never forget the nuggets of wisdom gingerly, and copiously, dropped from your lips, the heart that cringed at my every cry of pain, the strong hands that caressed and urged me to sustain, the strength to tread the straight and narrow while you relentlessly prayed, for the little battles I fought and for my every gain. With fondness I recall all those "Mom" sayings. One of my favorites was, "God gave you two ears and one mouth so you might speak less and listen more." After a stormy and rebellious phase, I wisely started to pay heed, and it paid off.

Maa'mi, I love you deeply as well. One of my early puzzles was understanding why you chewed "Orogbo" (kola nut), teasing you about the song, "ki'lanfani orogbo" (what is the benefit of orogbo?).....life soon taught me the anfani of orogbo. On every visit from America, you made sure I was steeped in my ancestral lore. You schooled me in my culture, my language (even various dialects), made sure I was proficient in my ancestor's cuisine, and the truths of my ancestors. You ensured that I would never lose touch with my roots. On one vacation, when I slipped away to Ronke's house 😋 till almost midnight at the age of 12, you organized a search party till you found me….alternately whipping my butt, and hugging me, crying in relief. I remember you telling me, "You may have been born in America, but I will not let you act like them". The meaning of that soon became apparent in my later years. Freedom has to be interlaced with responsibility and not tethered to one's ego. You kept me grounded and I love♡you for it all. I watched in fascination, as you cooked with clay pots on stone tripods in the backyard outside, roosters and baby goats jostling for my attention, the smells of home wafting in the evening breeze, initiating a lifelong love affair with "Dodo, Ewa and Jollof rice" that I maintain till this day (no offense to Moin-Moin and Akara).

Not a day goes by that I do not reflect on those days of my childhood and adolescence. Even though I was absent from my homeland at birth, I am grateful for the opportunities which made it possible for me to reconnect quickly and be a part of your lives, and you...mine. I miss eagerly watching, barely tall enough to see you whisking the cake mix at the kitchen counter, wistfully smiling in the knowledge that I eagerly anticipated the licking of the batter-stained bowl, dismayed as you gently restrained my greed, explaining that too much of a good thing was bad for my health. I smile wistfully as I remember how you saved my plate of pancakes in the oven when I was constipated before Sunday mass, discreetly letting me know that, this too, would soon pass. With rapt attention I watched you make "gari" from scratch, as delicious as the pastries with which you sent me off to school, batch after batch.

Mom, I miss the stories and folktales you would recount, how you smoothed my wrinkled brow, as you patiently explained the meaning of my family's "Oriki". The love of a mother is sweeter than chocolate, stronger than hurricanes, thicker than molasses, and ever-enduring. You exhorted me to trust my intuition, to accept the gift that is my life and follow rules of my own relevant, but honest definition. I still stare at pictures of you as a young mother breastfeeding me in Central Park; I read my baby book intently to see if I missed any hidden clues in your inscriptions; I can never forget the sweetness of your tears, nor forget how you helped me fight my fears.

Mama Agba, you were my favorite, unable to bring yourself to spank me even at my most petulant, regarding you gingerly as you regaled me with stories from a different century. Your dialect at times were a puzzle that I tackled with glee, and learning without discordant muzzles. You awoke before anyone in the household at the cockcrow of dawn, folding the woven "eni" you insisted on sleeping on, shunning the softer mattress, putting out the "atupa" and sweeping the grounds, feeding your chickens and making your rounds. You lived till a hundred and fourteen, but not before enriching the years of my teens. You remained loving, youthful and regal, imparting the lessons I listened to, eager.

I am proud of the man I have become today and it's all because of you. Without your guidance I doubt if ever I could. I am thankful for the opportunity to grow with you three. A better upbringing I cannot have foreseen. If there is indeed an afterlife, I am confident you are occupying the positions of blissful and restful serenity that you soundly deserve. You taught me that, with perseverance, dedication and faith, all my dreams could come true. I salute you. I love you. I miss you more than words can ever express. 😢

So here I am, a product of your love, ever grateful you are still watching over me from up above. Till we meet in the afterlife of one, it is me, your diligent and ever-loving son. Happy Mother's Day, moms.....🌹🍷