Which book’s world would be the absolute worst to live in?

I love a good book. Give me an interesting plot, a little drama, a few plot twists, and I’m a happy woman. But you see, there’s a big difference between enjoying a fictional world from the comfort of your bed and actually living in it. If you grew up reading those old-school Nigerian novels, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Because honestly, why was everybody suffering so much?

There was always that one wicked stepmother who made it her life’s mission to turn a child into a professional sufferer. Then you had the jealous relative who couldn’t stand anyone’s progress, the poor girl whose only crime was being beautiful and kind, and of course, that one family secret capable of scattering an entire household. Sometimes, the village elders would gather, someone would fall mysteriously ill, and before you knew it, the whole family was running around consulting one spiritual authority or another.

Omo, I just wanted to read a story! Why am I suddenly afraid for my own family? 

And don’t even get me started on the polygamous households. Imagine living in a house where your father’s wives were constantly plotting against each other. The children fought tooth and nail for favour, and every single meal felt like an unspoken declaration of war. Who needs external enemies when your family tree looks like a battlefield?

Then you had the stories where a character would make one questionable decision. Instead of just apologizing, they’d spend the next 300 pages dealing with the fallout. Sometimes, the consequences would stretch down to their children and grandchildren. Just generational problems, proudly sponsored by one person’s stubbornness. God forbid!

Honestly, I respect the authors. They knew exactly how to keep us hooked. But some of those fictional worlds? I would rather just observe from a very safe distance. Give me my peaceful little corner, my food, and my freedom abeg! I don’t want to be the golden child today and the family scapegoat tomorrow. Real life already has its own wahala, I cannot be adding wicked uncles, village conspiracies, and mysterious family curses to my to-do list.