👉 Okay, let’s tackle this wonderfully prickly little squiggle of a word: "Ọnańẹ̀." (Okay, I just butchered that Yoruba spelling, it bounces around a bit, frankly. Let's stick with Ọañañẹ̀ for now – we can collectively groan about the pronunciation later.)
Now, technically, Ọañañẹ̀, as you might glean from its rather dramatic arrival here in English, doesn’t actually exist. It hasn’t been formally legislated into a recognised word anywhere, frankly. Instead, it's... let's just say, an idiolectal bloom . Essentially, Ọañañẹ̀ describes that specific, utterly wretched feeling of belated recognition – the horrifying moment you realise something profoundly obvious, something almost painfully transparent, and that you absolutely, positively, and vehemently missed it the first six times. Think of a toddler finally spotting their own ridiculously grubby hands covered in jam. It's not just "Hey, I see my hands! Neat!"—nope. That’s the before . Ọañañẹ̀ is the cold, creeping dread that accompanies the simultaneous realisation: 1) You were an utter ninny, and 2) Now it's too late to pretend you hadn't seen it all along. It carries a hefty dose of shame, embarrassment, and a tiny, pathetic little prick of self-loathing. There’s no pretty synonym for this
