Here,There and Back

New Beginnings

2012-01-22T20:38:00.000+01:00

It's almost the end of January and here I am visiting my blog for the first time in 2012. It's never too late to say Happy New Year is it? oh well.. I hope the year started on a good note for all of you. The end of 2011 was incredibly tough for me as I had to grow up and open my eyes and see what the future had for me. I mean I'm always talking about doing things but never actually getting up to do it. As you know, I've started writing more and more and it's been incredibly exhilarating (abeg make una nor mind the spelling) but I never thought to do anything more than just writing but you see sometimes God puts things right in front of us and we just look away from it and we keep asking him to bless us. IT's a miracle that God is ever so patient with us sef. I mean, you keep saying he should bless you, He puts the basket of blessings in front of you and you don't even look at it. Lesson number one from today's post... When you're praying to God, don't pray in isolation, be extremely sensitive to his leading and unction. Writing isn't just a hobby, it's now a means of putting bread on my table and for this I am eternally grateful. Lesson number 2. Do not be afraid of taking risks. I am the worst person to be giving this advice cos besto calls me an over thinker and over thinkers are not by nature risk takers because they keep thinking of all the reasons why they shouldn't jump off the cliff. Well, I decided at the end of last year to take the leap off the ledge of the comfort of 9 to 5 and into the world of the unknown... i haven't landed on soft mattress yet oh... but hey... it's sink or swim or jam my head against a rock and I sure as hell am going to do everything to swim. Lesson number 3. When you are asking God to bless you, you have to be ready to receive the blessings. If you ask God to give you a husband and he hasn't answered you yet, it's probably because you are not yet the perfect wife for the dude he's arranging for you. If you're asking for a bigger car, you have to get that car park ready... I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of work I have to do. my deliverables are mounting and I am afraid I am ill-equipped to cope.. but neh... I will do it. One story at a time, one synopsis at a time and I shall do itSo that enough with the lessons. The good people at BellaNaija.com have published two of my pieces this year...Whoop woop... and I don't know when I'll stop being excited that people actually read stuff I write... maybe never. The links are here and Anyway.. let's toast to new beginnings and completions tooHave a fab year ahead,

One Thousand Words

2011-11-23T10:43:00.003+01:00

It all started the day my mother asked us to start calling Aunty Toun “Mummy wa” I grew up knowing Aunty Toun as the lady who lived in the nice house in our area. Her house was the only “nice” house there anyway she lived alone and had nice looking cars always driving in and out of her house. Her car was the first one I ever entered and I remember touching the smooth leather seats throughout the ride to the market. My mother did some work for aunty, that’s a dignified way of saying she ran errands for her and in exchange for her services she got a little money, some raw food and with that she ensured that my little sister and I didn’t starve.
You see Aunty Toun is actually my father’s second cousin, but since we never knew our dad, my mother felt it was important to know some of his relatives. Aunty Toun was much younger than my mother but culture demanded she respected her so she was “Sisi Mi Toun” I didn’t understand why my mother was always deferring to her, was is it because she had a lot of money? Surely money was an important thing to have then. It commanded respect.
“Damilola, please go and wear your white dress and white socks, you know Aunty Toun doesn’t like it when you don’t dress well to her house”
Aunty Toun determined what we ate in our little room, what kind of clothes we wore and every other thing. I grew up resenting her and her condescending tone and little gifts.
“Dami and Ife come and say thank you to Aunty Toun. She has just given me your school fees for next term”
With every act of subservience by my mother my head spun, surely I had to do something to liberate my mother from this modern day slavery. When my mother said we should only call aunty “mummy wa” I made up my mind to stop collecting the presents from Aunty, I was going to make money for us.
I was 17 when I got the job at the petrol station and even though the pay was small, I took every kobo I made home to my mother. I would spend the time behind the till reading every scrap of information I could. My personal mantra was “Ignorance led to poverty” I was not going to be ignorant as ignorance led my mother to getting pregnant for a low life who claimed he was from the prominent Lagos Kuku family, when in fact he was actually their cook. Ignorance made her stick around him long enough to have even another baby and then he skipped town leaving her with two children and a false belief in a name.
So when Michael walked into the Mart to ask to buy lubricant for his SUV and showed more interest in me than in the lubricant he came to purchase I strengthened my resolve not to let any man lead me through ignorance to poverty. Something was different about him though, he was persistent and genuinely seemed to care. He was stung when I refused his tip the first time, “I don’t take hand outs sir; I like to earn my own money”. He seemed shocked that I could speak English properly, and for that we could only thank Aunty Toun the benefactor who ensured that my mother sent us to the best primary school in the area. He started bringing books for me to read and kept asking me to consider leaving work for school. I didn’t want to go to school, school would come later, but I surely didn’t want my sister to be raised with mummy wa’s money.
Michael became my friend and never stopped talking about my going back to school. I grew to trust him and look forward to his visits every evening. Then one day he said he was going back to America for his MBA.
“Dami, I want you to marry me. I want you to come with me to the U.S. We can build a life together there. You can go to school there and send for your Mom and sister later. I love you and I would love you for the rest of our lives”
That was five years ago. Today I’m standing at the window looking at mummy wa’s house and thinking life isn’t as dramatic as I pictured it to be. If this was a movie script I wasn’t supposed to be back here thinking of the morning I left Gary Indiana. I had become a captive in a place I had once called home, a battered captive; so I took my children and ran. It had been raining and I felt it was some deity giving his blessing for my actions. I had talked to some women about it “Ehn, he slapped you, and you still stayed there. Do you want to wait till you’re killed?”
“I can take anything oh, but that beating... no no no! My parents didn’t beat me it’s now a man that will make me his punching bag. Mba”
“My sister, you are strong sha o. The day Makinde raises his hand to even try it is the day I will go back home”
I was ashamed. I was living my mother’s life all over again, only this time I had armed myself with an education and I had saved enough money to start all over. I was strong and determined to try again. My children were only going to call one woman "Mummy wa" and that woman was me.

What I've been up to

2011-11-17T09:43:00.003+01:00

http://tinyurl.com/ca95b4d

http://tinyurl.com/bs2nlwb

http://tinyurl.com/ccwq923

http://tinyurl.com/c7rhlhr

http://tinyurl.com/5t3x8ry

Enjoy

October

2011-11-17T09:30:00.004+01:00

Hi guys,

I haven't abandoned my blog oh, and no I'm not going to give you the tale of how I've been busy blah blah blah.. nehhh... I've just not been able to put my blog post thoughts together.
Last sunday I poured my heart out on my phone and I was going to come and post it on my blog and then writing instructor had other plans... he said ... Send it to BN... so.. that's what I did. I'll send you the link in another post.

Moving on, so October was Cancer awareness month and also the month of my birth... yay!! My birthday this year was really special because I had dinner with my close friends at The Four Points Sheraton and it was dutch! I really don't believe we were able to pull off an all man for himself style dinner in Naija. I mean I had the perfect birthday and i didn't go bankrupt. It was fun and I was really happy. The next weekend I had to go to Ogbomosho for my aunty's wedding. My aunty who is almost 50 was getting married for the first time and it was a really good thing for her. (I'll gist you guys about the wedding in another blog post!!1 plenty tory dey dia! :D)

What else happened in October... hmmm oh yes, a popular radio personality was taking short story entries for Cancer and she was going to post it on her blog. I sent in an entry and I was not shortlisted so I'm going to post it here for you guys to read and enjoy.

I'll be back sooner than you think.

xoxo

*****

I don’t know how long I sat in the vestry for, but the cup of tea someone had shoved into my hands when we first arrived at the church had turned cold along time ago. I couldn’t explain what I felt, I am not even sure at that time I felt anything. I just felt time pass, and the silence drummed in my ears like a loud gong. I had been asked to prepare to give a short word on Oyinkansola Idowu Cole.
What was I going to say? Where was I going to start from? That the last time I had a real relationship with my mother was when I was 13 That she wasn’t there to talk to me about boys, relationships and clothes?
I stared ahead at the wall ahead of me as if to find an answer to the questions I had been asking for almost 10 years but the cream wall just stared back at me. I remember that day back in J.S.3, Arin’s Mummy told me that I was going home with them because Mummy was not feeling strong enough to come and pick me.
“Your daddy has gone to the hospital with her, but she will be home soon. You will come and stay with us till she is strong enough”
“Can I see her? Can I go to the hospital? I can squeeze some orange juice for her. Mummy likes freshly squeezed orange juice when she has the flu”
I had said this, tongue in cheek, because I assumed my Mum was finally going to have another baby; you know how parents try to deceive kids into believing babies come from hospitals. I was being smart, if the adults could play the ‘flu game’ so could I.
I remember the sad smile on Mrs Kosoko’s face because of my naivety. I laughed out loud as the memory of that day brought a trickle of tears down my face. It was the first time I was crying since the 13th of September when the doctor walked into the waiting room to tell me my mum had passed. Why hadn’t I cried? It wasn’t because I was a cold heartless 22 year-old who didn’t care about her mother. It was because my mother had died over a year ago when she could no longer speak from the wracking pain. The lymphoma has taken a little of her till it took her voice.
"My mother was her voice. Oh how she would sing. I loved waking up on Saturday mornings to hear her raise the rafters with her voice clear as a bell, sweet as the sound of canaries in summer as she sang her favourite song, Amazing Grace.
I was shipped off to boarding house because the strain of taking care of Mom was taking its toll on my father. Every time I came home, my father looked older from caring for her, he was pouring all of his finances into her treatment and she didn’t seem to get better.
I remember coming home and being afraid to enter her room because it smelt of death. Her hugs lost their warmth because she grew weaker. I was afraid of my own mother because she looked so frail; she lost all her hair from the chemotherapy and the radiotherapy. My mother, bless her heart would always call me into her room to chat, to ask about the little details and most importantly she sang to me. There was something in knowing that she would always sing to me and even though she was not strong enough to keep me in check in my wild years as a teenager I would remember the words of her songs and be contrite.
My dad was struggling with the burden too; he would come back from work and sit by her bedside till he fell asleep. I had to grow up fast for her, for him, for me.
The doctor gave her 1 year to live, but my mother was a fighter. The embers of the love she felt for Daddy and I that kept her going. It felt like she wasn’t going to leave until I was old enough to take care of myself. She didn’t give up till 8 years later.
My mother, Oyinkansolami, the canary of my house stopped singing and was being laid to rest today. What was I going to say about a woman so strong and unique? I wept uncontrollably for my loss.

Wonbiliki Wobia

2011-09-19T11:03:00.003+01:00

I really need a driver if my blog wants to stay alive. How are they related? Well, I'll tell you.

On the long 2 hour drive to work I generate at least 4 blog posts everyday.. in my HEAD! ofcourse my head isn't the same as this blog so you can't read it in there. By the time I get to my desk, plug my phone in, turn on my computer and start reading emails I end up either forgetting to post or I've lost all the clarity I had about the structure and form my blogpost would come in. If I had a driver I'd probably just do up the post on the long ride to work. Today's ride was 2 and half hours... think of how many things that would have come up in this my small head.
Today's post is about food. Not about cooking or ranting about manlessness and knowing about food oh... it's about the consumption of food. But let me digress quickly. There's a show I listen to on the radio in the morning, it's called "Freshly Pressed" on Smooth 98.1. The read out headlines and then discuss it... If you live in Lagos I urge you to tune in. It's very informative and they have very intellectual discussions.

Freshly Pressed riled me up so much one morning about two weeks ago that I was coming to the office with the fire of a passionate Nigerian, coming to talk about the issues.. then I told myself... "Hmm... Armchair Activist.. you wont cool down!" Lol Anyway, there's alot going on in this Country that I wish I could do something about... really trully breaks my heart just thinking about the ineptitude of the leaders of this country. One of my best friends says that GEJ's name should be in the dictionary right next to "Inept" Loll

Speaking of Best Friends... Am I the only one who seems to have like 6 best friends? it just makes me feel like I'm an insincere (is this even a word?) person. And these special friends are scattered across the globe, they don't even know themselves but everyday I just thank God that they're in my life because honestly I don't know what I'd do without them. Seriously. (Luckily none of them read my blog so there shall be no head swelling and tingzz :D)

Moving on swiftly.. to the matter of FOOD!

On my birthday two years ago, I took a few of my close colleagues to dinner in some restaurant in V.I. I invited a veryyy close friend of mine who asked if she could come with her boyfriend. I said "Sure" I hadn't really interacted with this her new boyfriend at that time so I though oh it'd be a good opportunity to meet him. So visualize a table with about 6 of my colleagues and then my friend and her man walk in. We were already eating when they came so they sat down and started eating. The table was bubbly and everyone was gisting then dude (Friend's BF) stretches his hands forward for seconds. Now everyone is engrossed in the gist so nobody really cares anyway and food is for eating shey? Dude isn't really chatting much, understandable since he's not really familiar with people on the table...Next thing....hands stretched forth.. grabs the dish again and...Loll Let's just say everyone in the office were talking about my friends BF and how he's so much of a grub. It was so hillarious. I was paying for this dinner by the way oh... body just dey pepper me like... i would have asked them to pack that food and I've had it for lunch the next day.
One random day I was with that same friend of mine and her man was coming ... that same Foodie Guy. Then she said "Oh please let's quickly go out I don't want S to meet me at home. Everytime he comes here he's always asking for food or eating my Sister's food" I immediately forgave him for consuming my birthday food like that.

Some people like food ehn... I know you cant tell from my roundness yeah.. lol but I'm not a food lover. Like seriously, some people have conditioned their mind to believe that every food within their sights must be consumed... till it finishes hian!!
People, gluttony is a sin. IT IS A SIN.
One dude in my office musn't see you eating ni.. he mustoh beg ni sha

[oh snap!!!! i think he reads my blog! Lemme stop :)]

Anyway, your stomach doesn't need SOOOO much food. You don't have to eat till you burst. Be cautioned.

In a totally unrelated note, do not tell your friend if you think her boyfriend is uncultured or ill-mannered. She will delete your ass off BBM and 'defriend' you.

Lol My friend Remi is alive to tell the tale.

Ok guys, I think I've tried small today shey? I'm working on one fantab project with my writing instructor. We'll take a picture, then spin a tale around the picture. Both of us, different perspectives. Kinda exciting. Supposed to be a thousand words but yours truly has been faffing about. I've written 80 words since last week. :)

Wish me luck and enjoy the rest of your week

xoxo

Unexpected Turns

2011-09-19T10:40:00.001+01:00

There was no light, mosquitoes swarmed in through the hole in the net screen door. The stench of sweat and dirty clothes in the little ‘room and parlour’ could not be mistaken. It was rank. The room was illuminated by the dying light from the kerosene lantern which was sitting on a now abandoned television set. It had not worked in ages and it doubled as a stand for candles and when there was enough money to buy kerosene, the kerosene lantern. The fumes from the generators nearby and the fumes from the lantern were choking. The evening breeze helped a bit but it could only do so much. The curtains had been pulled up to allow a little fresh air in from the window, if the air could be called fresh. The room was rank. Eva sat on the tattered sofa and nestled the baby against her breasts, rocking herself back and forth and hoping to the heavens that he would sleep. She tried whispered softly into his ears “nne biko, my love i know it’s hot ehn, but baby’muo I need you to sleep for a while ehn?”. She tried to croon love songs so he would sleep. Love songs she heard when she was in a completely different place. A place she called home. She had to turn Eba because Alfred would soon be home and after a long day at Mile 12, he would eat and like a savage beast he would take her. She would lie there enduring his heaving and humping, thinking of a place far far away from this place and when he was done she would wipe herself up. He always spilled himself on the inside of her thighs, as if to avoid a mistake he had made earlier on. Weeping only earned her more physical pain, for the more she wept the harder he drove into her, slapping her into submission. She had learned to be strong, to take herself to a time when the world was bright and colourful. She had her whole life ahead of her and then like the lights going down on a stage, all of the light was snuffed out.
******************************************************
Armed robbers had entered the banking hall. She could hear them from the backroom where she was. The fear in the air was palpable, everywhere was still save for the voice of the leader whose voice was booming in the main hall, he was giving orders and threatening that anyone who made the wrong move was going to end up dead. She heard them asking for the branch manager. “who be Evelyn Adebanjo? No be she be branch manager abi wetin dem dey call am?” she felt the tremor in the pit of her belly, fear coursed through her veins. She prayed and supplicated as she lay on the floor of her office. Clutching the furr of her rug she bit her lips, she felt the chill run down her spine “Jesus Jesus Jesus” she kept repeating the words like a chant. Her toes were cold all of a sudden; she shook off her heels, thinking that if the need arose to run she would be ready. Morbid thoughts flashed in her head, if the thieves came in now, if they shot her in the head. She knew she was not going to try to be heroic; she was going to give them the key to the vault. She needed this to be over. She thought of her 16 year old daughter, her driver was supposed to have gone to pick her from school. She hoped to God that Kabir had not gone to pick her yet or that for some insane reason they were delayed. Her head was spinning, the thoughts that coursed through her head, the innocent customers. She wondered for a fleeting second if this was an inside job, if this had to do with the hundred gold bars in Chief Fowowe’s safety deposit box her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden nudge of the table under which she had crawled “Madam bank manager.... na you we dey find since oh oya commot for dia con carry us go vault”
She crawled out and led them down the stairs to the basement where the vault was. With shaky hands she held out the keys to the man who brought her down here. She heard him being called “O.C”, in a ‘profession’ like theirs you could hardly use your real name.
“Which one should I open sir?” With a quavering voice and fear all over her face, she was told to open box 315. At the sight of the gold bars, O.C could not control himself; he let out a loud whoop of celebration and took off his mask and called out to his mate.
“nna, why you con commot you mask nah? You dey crase? You no see sey dis woman dey here?”
O.C as if realizing that Evelyn could recognize him turned around, faced her and said “ that one no hard nah” He lifted the pistol he had put down in the vault and with the purposeful focus of a crazed cold hearted thief, pulled the trigger.
The bullet went straight to her head, as she swooned and in that last minute when the life ebbed out of her, she thought of her daughter, how she had no one in this world. Evelyn’s last thought on earth was that Eva would pull through, because she had raised a strong independent daughter, she let go and allowed the cold grip of death take her.
*******************************************************
Nobody told her how she was related to Alfred, she was made come live with him in this hellhole. Her life, her dreams, her hopes, gone. Her mother, her best friend had been gone for almost 2 years now. It had been two of them from the beginning. Relatives came from nowhere, all wanting to help and after the burial they all said she could not go back to their home in 1004 flats. She was to go with “Uncle Alfred” he was the closest blood kin to her mother.
She stopped calling him “Uncle” the first day he grabbed her breasts.
“Come here, you this akunna kuna, daughter of an akunna kuna, why are you pretending that it’s not ashawo that your mother was doing to get all that money?”
Eva thought something in her had died the day her mom died, but she knew that her old self no longer existed the first day Alfred lay astride her and spread her legs apart. He was always sweating, like a dirty pig, with his putrid touch; he would grab her young breasts. Thrust after thrust he killed the old Eva and planted his seed. Nothing was said about her education. He hurled insults at her and violated her daily, but the more she thought about her past, the stronger she became.
She thought about the locket her mother had given her on her 15th birthday. Inside the locket, written behind the picture of Evelyn and Dapo and their baby daughter Eva was the passcode to the account being held in trust for her till she was 18.
She would be 18 in a few weeks, she would take Damien and turn her back on all this. She would build her life again, because her mother had raised a strong independent woman.

Cracked Earthen Jars

2011-07-26T09:27:00.006+01:00

The euphoria of being published on Bella Naija has not died i will not lie. I mean it's almost a month now and I still go there to get high on the positive comments.
Lol

Seriously, I love writing. The way it makes me feel these days ehn... I can start like four different stories and the ideas just keep turning in my head. It's truly an exhiliarating feeling which I cannot fully encapsulate with words.

The link to the story on BN is here:

http://bit.ly/pA4k7r

Ok, so moving on.

The story below is something my writing instructor called "Nigerian Sex and The City"

I don't know about that sha, I think it just shows cracked earthen jars :D

Enjoy

********

Four women were meeting that evening. They had four different realities and the only thing that held them together was an inexplicable bond of friendship and love. It was to be an evening of laughing and talking over cocktails, of touching each other’s souls and reminding themselves that they loved each other. They planned to meet at Le Metisse, an upscale restaurant in Lagos. They were roommates in their freshman year at the Queen Mary University in London. They had moved back at different times after they graduated, swearing that nothing would ever tear them apart, they would be best friends forever. Other Nigerians envied them because they were rich, they were young and they had each other.
Adanma was the first to arrive. Always a sticker for being punctual, she was sitting down sipping a margarita at 5.50pm. The sun had gone down but the soft yellow glow of the dusk shaded the roof of the restaurant where she had chosen to sit. She looked over the balcony to the ground and watched the cars driving down the street. Her face veiled by really large sunglasses, you couldn’t tell what lurked beneath those darkened lenses. She felt her purse vibrating and picked it up to dig out her phone.
“you guys are just chronic late comers. Shey we said 6pm… Well I’ve been here for about 20 minutes now and I’ve downed my first strawberry margarita. I’m about to order a second” She paused because the glint of a white Range Rover Sport caught her attention. She listened for a second and watched the car a bit more “oh I think Tammy is here… oh hurry here abeg!! And Aisha, you had better be bringing my purse if you don’t want me to wring your neck”. Heaving a sigh of relief that at least one of the girls was here she took another sip of her cocktail, attempting to numb her pain so no one else could tell what she was going through. She didn’t expect any of them to understand anyway. Tammy for instance could never understand. Their lives were so different. None of them could honestly say that they didn't wish they could swap lives with Tammy. She was rich, smart, and beautiful and she was married to a gorgeous man from a prominent Lagos family. Tammy’s life was a fairy tale.
****
She sat and watched him as he polished off the last of the fish on his plate. She signaled for John to come and pack up. Clearing her throat and sitting up a bit she said "Tonye, my friends from Uni want us to go have drinks tomorrow. Is it fine with you?" He picked up the remote control and flipped through the channels till he found the Cable News Network, watching t.v for almost ten minutes, he spoke. " Ok. Mutiu can take you" the tone was not as condescending as she was used to, so she wanted to believe he was in a good mood. She was the epitome of the submissive wife. Sometimes she wanted to tear her hair out. She was living in a glass prison. Surrounded by beautiful things but she just wanted to be free, to be allowed to run free.
“thank you” as a slave grateful to her benefactor and not a wife to her husband, or from one partner to another. “Should I ask John to bring your fruits now?” She looked back at her husband who barely nodded in response to her enquiry and continued to watch the news.
She turned up the temperature of the air conditioning when she got into the room. It was cold, literally and figuratively. He never conversed with her as a partner, there was no decision making process in their home. He was the great liege and she was his servant. The beautiful princess locked in a very cold concrete tower, the only difference between her situation and any Disney adaptation was that she was locked in by the handsome prince who was supposed to save her. She heard his footsteps down the hall way. She couldn’t remember the last time he touched her, the last time he kissed her. She involuntarily bit her lower lips; something to hold back the tears that threatened any time she remembered she was living with the shell of the man she had married. In retrospect, he must have married her because they made the picture perfect couple, and when you married a princess, no one could easily tell that you preferred the touch of your best friend Richard. He didn’t want her, he wanted him but he was afraid of what society would think of him. So they continued with the façade; Tamuno and Tonye Briggs, their world being held up by an idea of the ideal.
The thoughts whirled in her head for the longest time and she didn’t realize when sleep pulled her into its warm embrace until she felt a nudge…
“Tamuno, please get up we need to talk”. She rubbed her eyes and blinked as her eyes struggled to adjust to the lights in the room
“What is it? Is something the matter?”
“I’m done Tammy. I’m done with this, this charade, this lie. I’m done hiding” He couldn’t even look her in the eyes, he averted his gaze. The same way he did when he gave her a new pair of Loubotins, or Mahnolos.
She stared blankly and told herself she was confused and didn’t know what he was talking about, but a woman always knows. She was quiet for the longest minute and knew that this was it, her marriage was crumbling and it was happening in the weirdest way ever.
“what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know Tammy, I don’t know, but you deserve better, and I can’t keep compensating with gifts. I’m really sorry. I’ll move my things out in the morning. You can keep the house.”
Tamuno’s world spun around her, she was being released from her cold tower, only in the most cruel way.
******
The laughter that rang out from the table where three of them sat was infectious. An innocent bystander looking at them would want to share in whatever it was that they were having because they were happy.
“I don’t know why we haven’t thought about doing this before, all of you forming busy and we’re all in this Lagos. So if this yeye Aisha didn’t even come to Lagos we won’t have seen your brake lights Mrs Briggs” Adanma teased
It was Aisha who noticed the cab roll up and saw Folake come out of it looking disheveled.
“Look at Folake oh, and why does she look so frazzled?” They looked at each other in shock. Folake was the ‘glamazon’ amongst them. She was the most fashion conscious and the one who cared the most about looks and clothes. When they were moving back, Ada and Folake had to travel together, and she would always recall the story of how she never thought it was humanly possible for a person to hurl back 8 suitcases of shoes, clothes and handbags.
When they were in school, Folake Williams had a lot of cash to throw around and they all knew it. She was the only one whose dad was would send £5,000 half way into the term because Folake would complain that her allowance had finished. He could afford it, he was a member of the Senate and there was a lot of money coming from Abuja. His daughter was a big spender. When the rest of them would scour the streets searching for bargains, Folake would hit the big stores for only the best. She was daddy’s only girl after all. She only needed to want it and it was hers.
****
When she got the message that her friends from Uni wanted to meet up for drinks, her reaction was a cocktail of emotions. On one hand she was excited to see them, especially Aisha whom she hadn’t even run into or seen in over three years but she was a long way from how she was when they knew her. She twirled her hair with her fingers, it felt soft and silky. She hadn't paid the balance outstanding of N90,000 but the hair was the least of her problems right now. The bank had repossessed her car because she had defaulted on her car payments. It was such a huge financial mess right now. She couldn't run to her father now, he had law enforcement fish to fry. The Economic and Financial Crimes Comission had dug their sticky little claws in her father and they weren't letting up. She hissed at the unfairness of it all. 'Stupid Stanbic!! Stupid EFCC!!' she heard a rap on the glass door of her office and looked up
“Folake, meeting at 3 with the client in his office. He liked your pitch earlier on and he wants to discuss the workability. If you can win this bid, I know there's definitely going to be something extra in your pay cheque this month”
“OK.”
“I woulda expected a more excited response from you. Are you ok?”
She smiled at her boss and just nodded. Wondering how much ‘extra’ could be when her take home was #200,000. Her car payments alone gulped more than half of that and she wasn’t even going to think about her maxed out overdraft facilities. She’d always thought she needed to cut back on shopping but now she had reached her limit, she couldn’t even afford to buy anything now. Now she had to hang with the girls that evening and she didn’t even have a car; she’d take a taxi but she didn’t even have enough money for a drink and a cab. She pushed her bangs back and sighed
“Folake, are you sure you’re alright?”
“No I’m fine Osahon. Thanks”
He turned around to leave and she knew right there in that instant that if she didn’t do this there would be no way for her to see her friends the next day.
“Err… Osa, please can you loan me 5k?” This was a very difficult for her but she was at her wits end, she had put herself in this mess and she didn’t have a clue how to get out of it.
He seemed to notice her discomfiture and pulled out his wallet and counted 10 pieces of crisp #1,000 notes and gave her. “it’s fine. You don’t have to return it”
Her voice shook as she collected the money and said “thank you. I don’t know what to say”
“Don’t say anything. Work on your presentation and bring you’re a-game to the client”
Four hours later, she could safely heave a sigh of relief that she did bring her A-game to the presentation the client was going with their ad campaign. It was also a good thing that Osa had bailed her out of her bind temporarily. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to block out reality then her phone rang. The number didn’t look familiar and she picked
“Madam Folake, the cheque you left with my shop girl bounced. I have been calling you and you have not been taking my calls. See ehn, I don’t want to cause any trouble but please come with my money if you don’t want me to come and disgrace you in your office. That is all I will say for now”
Not giving her a chance to explain or even respond, the person on the other end of the line hung up. Lord, when was this going to come to an end?
****
It was always difficult having to decide what to eat and the menu had a diverse range of things to choose from.
“We should just order a large pizza and scoff it down with red wine. I hate having to choose what to eat” Ada said
“No way missy! We’re not doing Pizza. I want a long proper meal with you guys. This isn’t us in school all over again please. Besides it’s been ages since I saw you guys, I want to spend as much time as possible with all of you.”
Tammy who had been perusing the menu for the longest of time, suggested they had parmesean shrimp pasta.
“Oh that sounds just nice but does one of you have an epi pen ready for when Aisha goes into anaphylactic shock?”
Aisha had a horrible allergic reaction to sea food and it was something she found quite embarrassing. “You guys are not serious. I’ll just do steak and you guys can have your shrimp” She paused and looked at Adanma “You, why have you had those sunglasses on? Or the sun hasn’t gone down on your side of the table?”
Then she took the sunglasses off
****
She got back from work a little after 7pm and she was tired. She’d seen Ebuka’s car outside so she knew he was home. The lights in the room were off and the curtains were drawn. The only illumination from the room was the glare from the TV. There wasn’t any sign that he was in the room. She took off her jacket and put it in the wardrobe. She didn’t hear him come out of bathroom but she felt him stand behind her. He held her and nuzzled her neck “baby, I missed you”
She stiffened a bit. His touch did that to her, because she didn’t know what would come next. His hands roamed down from her breasts to her waist, holding her firmly in his grip
“I said I missed you. Did you not miss me?” He was breathing harder now, the full force of his erection pressing against her and backing her against the wardrobe door
“Ebuka, please I just got back from work and I’m tired. Please” She was squirming now but he was relentless. She groaned in pain because the door handle was pressing into her belly “you’re hurting me. Please stop”
He didn’t stop. He turned her body towards him, one hand firmly in between her legs, exercising some form of hold on her.
“You’re tired ehn? From doing what? Or who?” He was angry. She never knew what set him off but he was always angry. She squirmed because she knew what was going to happen next. This was a regular move from his play book. If she was too tired he would take her as savagely as he could, if she was submissive she would go away with minimal bruises; if she was resistant he would show her who the man in the house.
“I said tired from doing what? Am I not you husband?” her lips trembled, she tried to answer in the affirmative but she wasn’t fast enough. It was the first of a series of strikes that was going to hit her face... She started whimpering “You are.. you are my husband” With one fell swoop he pushed her skirt down and rammed into her. She bit her lips to concentrate on that pain instead of the pain from her rape. She was being raped by her husband. Constantly. How do you explain being abused by your husband? He rammed into her again and again muttering the words “I am your husband and nobody, has a right… a right.. a right…” he trailed off asserting his rights as he emptied his seed into her.
She lay there weeping as she did every time he got this way. She couldn’t run away, she had nowhere to run. She lay in a fetal position on the bed and she felt his weight on the bed
“Adanma… Nwunye’m… biko I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” She didn’t open her eyes but she knew the routine, she knew he held in his hands a bowl of warm water, a bottle of disinfectant and a towel. He was going to dab at her wounds and try to reduce the visual effect of her physical trauma
She cringed as warm towel touched her forehead, he gently cleaned the blood from her face, his feathery touch soothed her. The same hands that inflicted so much pain was nursing her. It was like a whole new being taken over him. She didn’t know which was which any more. She was tired of trying to rationalize him. There was no one to talk to and she was ashamed to talk about it. He colleagues were used to the band aids on her face and the constant wearing of sun glasses. She could hide her pain from the world and she had done so successfully, but she was going to meet with her friends tomorrow and she knew that those women knew her and loved her like no one else in the world. She wasn’t going to successfully hide this from them. She wasn’t sure she wanted to but she would try. She would try. Foundation and sunglasses would do the trick.
***
Nobody noticed the hours go by as Ada and Folake took turns in telling of their woes. Anger resonated from the table as they listened to Ada tell of her abuse It was almost unreal, this was happening to one of them and there was nothing they could do about it Folake who sat closest to Ada grabbed her hands and told her she didn’t have to stay and take the abuse. They sat in silence taking in the quiet of the night. They had asked the waiter to bring another bottle of red wine.
Tammy had been really quiet all evening, not that she was a really chatty person normally but she was dealing with her own issues, trying to make sense of it. She sat slowly taking it all in, everything she was listening to just showed the fragility of their existence. It was Folake’s voice that broke into her reverie,
“At least Tamz is fine.”
She cracked a wry smile, unsure of whether to tell them what was happening to her, not sure if to let them into this cracked earthen jar that was her life.
“See how she’s just smiling. Mrs Briggs. True I want to be like you when I grow up. First I want all your shoes because luckily I’m a size seven” she prattled on and didn’t notice the tears trickling down Tammy’s face
“Tonye’s gay”. It was the first time she’d said the words out loud, never saying it because she didn’t want it to be true; but it no matter how long she lied to herself it was irrelevant now because he was done lying to himself and the world. He was ready to fully embrace who he was and he had told her to move on.
“Tonye’s gay. My husband is gay”
The chill that went through all of them was unmistakable. Aisha pulled her into a warm hug and held on to her.
“You’ll be fine honey. You will be fine” She pulled back and held out her hands to her friends.
“It seems so real now you know our lives happening and so fast and it’s so sad that we are so near yet so far. We need to stay in touch. We’re sisters. Well at least I love you guys that much. I wanted us to get together ‘cause I had news and now it all seems so irrelevant now.” She paused, she took a large gulp of her glass of wine because she was going to need something strong to tell them why she was in Lagos
“ I have been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I’ve been referred to a specialist in Lagos to determine how aggressive it is. I don’t want you guys to panic. I can beat this. I know I can”
And just when they thought the evening couldn’t get worse, Aisha dropped the elephant in the room

Quick detox

2011-07-21T21:16:00.003+01:00

I make a conscious effort to make all my friendships very light and playful. You see, the thing with serious friendships is that you can't really control the damage they cause in the event of a breakdown.
Over the years I've not been successful in keeping my feelings at bay but I have perfected the art/skill of seeing an end in the horizon and so I quickly jump off the emotional train just before it crashes.
Many years ago my friend Chichi had to go to Uni. I was devastated. I didn't show it of course but I was broken. She had new friends and she tried to carry me along but we did it for a while and it failed. She moved on. I held on that friendship bond and I refused to be friends with any other person because I was being 'faithful'. I was lonely. Things were happening to me and I didn't have anyone to talk to. As time went by I started making new friends but I told myself 'never again' but who was I kidding? However, I was wiser; I formed a defense mechanic against these heartaches. Since I couldn't help forming these deep and intense friendships I had enough sense and foresight to quickly take my feet out before it got cold.

My friend is going for her LLm this September and I'm really sad.I told her I'm weaning myself off her so I'm trying not to see her often and all that. It's really hard. I was lamenting earlier on this week and someone said 'A girl is going away and you're this sad'. The bonds of friendships sometimes go beyond boy and girl and no I'm not a lesbian. But I'm mush! and I like to protect myself by being overly cheerful and playful. I never take things seriously enough.

In the past two weeks I've become really friendly and dependent on a new friend I made and really he's like the other half of me. You see, that in itself is a problem. So giving myself a heads up and taking my foot out of this seemingly comfortable 'foot spa' before the water gets cold.

I 'kent' shout abeg!!!!!

TFESS Assignment

2011-07-18T10:07:00.001+01:00

It would appear that I have neglected my blog for about a month, but I have not really. I have been working to make it even a better place (that sounds like a very poor campaign slogan right?) Anyway. I found out The Future awards people were having a class for aspiring writers and yours truly registered and every saturday for a month I attended writing classes. It was fun. The facilitators were really cool and I took plenty notes, kai I don't think I was even that serious in school. I was very punctual for every class. :D (yay me!!)

Anyway on the last day one of the facilitators gave us an assignment. Write an article directed at an online portl and don't exceed 700 words..

I wrote it, writing teacher/friend extraordinaire/ supporter re-arranged my paragraphs and the result is what we have here

***
The Gnawing Ache Called Abuse

In 2011, at the peak of what we like to call civilization, it is rather depressing to know that women are still being abused physically and emotionally in Nigeria. A few days ago, the social media went agog with the tale of a man who brutally killed his wife and mutilated her body in the most inhumane way. It was reported that the perpetrator of this dastardly act had been abusing the victim for so long before it eventually culminated in her murder.

Some call it resilience, suffering long for love. Others call it stupidity. But for some reason, this woman stayed while she was being beaten black and blue till she was killed. There has been a large outcry in the media for his head on a platter, and this is not without good reason.

But the situation itself leaves a number of unanswered questions. Why do women stay with abusive men? Does a woman derive a sense of stability from being with a man? Does being with a man, irrespective of how badly one is being treated lend one a sense of belonging? Self validation perhaps? Does a woman tell herself that the errant man will suddenly see the light and stop beating her? Does a woman who stays with an abusive man believe that someday, the man who wooed her will return?

This author will be so bold as to hazard a few humble submissions in answer to the posers listed above. The ‘why’ will forever remain a mystery. The reason is that, years of evolution have conditioned our flight or flight mechanisms to protect our personal existences. The psychological end of the debate is another kettle of fish entirely.

Does a woman derive a sense of stability from being with a man? Yes, to a certain extent women, as should men derive a sense of stability and belonging from being together. After all, companionship is what the very essence of marriage and being together is all about. However, this should not be done at the cost of one’s sensibility. While every little tiff and disagreement is not a reason to jump ship into a canoe of separation and divorce. Zero tolerance should be given to abuse in all its forms.

However this is not the case, as we speak and our society is to be blamed at every level. The first of which is the rush (and the pressure) to be married in record time. Young women edging closer to the big three-oh are constantly reminded of the gradually winding down biological clock by friends, family and even total strangers in some case. Who is to say, that this alone doesn’t push women to settle for ‘less’? And stay settled in the mess the ‘less’ has caused?

A lot of women who remain in abusive relationships are plagued with the questions "Where will I go?", "how will the world perceive the fact that I am unable to stay in my marriage?", "who will look after my kids?" And so they stay; enduring the split lip yesterday, the busted gut today and the broken nose tomorrow. They do this till one day they take their last breath.

In an age where women liberation and the woman's rights are being screamed at the rooftops, women are still their own worst enemies. A woman will judge another woman by such intensely high standards that one wonders where the loyalty lies amongst the fold. The married woman would look at the single woman with immense pity, urging her to ‘settle down’. The single woman would wonder what craze possesses one to lose one’s freedom for the shackles of marriage. The ‘settled’ woman looks down on the feminist as being too vocal, the single and financially self sufficient as being unfulfilled. The feminist looks at the ‘settled’ woman as being a betrayer of the folk, willing to trade independence for the not so controlled environment of marriage and kids. So while women are busy tearing themselves apart, no attention is being paid to the scourge which cuts across all types of women.

It is not enough for women to stand on the soap box and "demand for equal rights" from men. It is even fallacious to assume or even say that men are the bane of the feminine existence, neither is it enough to constantly remind men that we are not the weaker sex. It is important for us as women to stand together. We should respect and cherish ourselves enough to support and not pass judgments on each other. It is only in doing this that an abused woman would find the courage to admit that she is being abused and refuse to stand for it. Only then will she find comfort in knowing that there's a world out there that doesn't condone the victimizing of women.

One

2011-06-23T21:34:00.007+01:00

It would appear that there's a recurrent theme in my work which is sadness and all.. as I've been told by my friends. I really write alot of sad stuff, even i didn't realise it was that bad. I try not to publish the reallly sad stuff here, I don't want you guys thinking I have issues... well i do but heck who doesn't

Anyway... I tried to infuse the CHEESE factor in this one. I tried not to barf as I wrote this and it was hard. Lol

Hope you like it

YIN 2008
I remember very vividly the first time I met her. It was the last working day in April and the banking hall was full. Pensioners were milling around, grumbling because the young boys who had come to collect money via Western Union were seemingly unruly and refusing to remain orderly. Salary earners in stuffy jackets, unable to withstand the heat from the ineffective air conditioning, young ladies with flowing hair punching away at their blackberries, all trying to get in and get out. The tellers seemed unable to keep up with the ardours task of keeping up with the throngs of people that kept coming into the bank. As the revolving doors opened, letting in another set of tired looking, sweaty people I sighed and went back to reading the copy of The Economist that I had brought in. It was looking like a long afternoon but I wasn’t going to go back to the office till I had gotten the mix up with my travel insurance and forex deposits sorted out. I remember the only reason I had walked towards the door was because I felt the tell tale pinch in my thigh from the accident, and I guessed I’d been sitting down for way too long. It was the worst time of the month to have gone to the bank but I was tired of sending incompetent people to get it done and I had to be in Helsinki the following week. I’d just walked past the doors when I felt the hot draft of air from outside, and then she walked in. She was talking on the phone so I had a little time to stare without being noticed. She was tall approximately 5ft 8” and dark skinned. She was wearing a black shirt tucked inside grey tailored pants that carefully moulded her derriere. She looked hot, literally and figuratively and almost telepathy was at work, she reached into her purse for a handkerchief to dab her forehead. I moved closer, I don’t know why but I did and I heard “Ok Carrot Cake, I have to get off the phone now before these security guys come to tell me I’m inside a bank. Yeah, Love you. Talk Later”
I took one last appreciative glance at the beautiful girl that just walked in and walked back to the waiting area. Hers was not a face a man forgets easily, plus she had the confidence and gait that was etched in my memory. Something about her struck a chord within me but I ignored it. I went back to reading my magazine and silently cursed the lucky sod who laid claims to her heart. 'What kinda wimp let's his woman call him Carrot Cake anyway?' I looked at her again "Damn, I'd be her carrot any day..." I thought wistfully. Women were stressful and like any normal red blooded male I enjoyed the hunt of a good chase and usually if the sex was good, it was a rewarding pat on the back for the effort made. I tried to see if she had a ring on her left hand but she had joined the queue of people trying to get money, and I really didn't envy her.
"Segun Balogun" I heard my name and let out a sigh of relief, the security guard at the bank pointed in the direction of the branch manager's office. "About damn time"

***
YANG 2009
My sister had never been known to do things in moderation and as such my nephew’s first birthday was not going to be an exception. She had ordered 3 huge cakes and there was enough food to feed an army. There were clowns and people in stuffed Disney characters that seemed to entertain the older children but scare the socks off the younger ones. The adults were milling around the garden, everyone needed an excuse to party and everyone knew that my sister Teniola did not do anything by half measures. I walked over to the barbecue stand and involuntarily inhaled; the scent of char and chicken skin made me hungry. Completely oblivious of my surroundings I grabbed the barbecue fork and dug into the biggest piece of chicken I saw on the grill.
“Someone is really hungry oh. We thank God” I heard my brother in law call in my direction and I knew that my twin would soon trail after him. I loved them both but their love and concern for me was almost stifling. I had snuck into the party because I didn’t want to be gawked at ‘the twin who isn't married’ 'isn't she the one who lost all that money to the pyramid scheme that went bust?' 'I hear she even tried to convince her parents to sell their house"
It had been a bumpy past couple of years and I was just finding myself again, but sometimes I really just wanted to be alone; maybe to soak myself in self pity but my sister and her husband were not having any of it.
"Carrot cake, you came!!!" Teni's sing song voice rang through the garden and I was slightly embarrassed because people turned around to stare. That was our "private" name. Like all identical twins, we shared a deeper bond beyond our looks and in all I'd been through she was the only person I'd come to lean on totally. I hugged her and held on, she whispered in my ear "trés chic... Showing off our long legs are we? Loads of good looking eligible men here. You plan to take some hearts home with you today?" I laughed and looked at her closely "none of that match making rubbish today abeg abeg abeg. I just want to eat plenty chicken and drink plenty red wine! Can you swing that?" I hissed in mock irritation and kissed her again.
I took my plate and went in search of some alcohol. A group of people huddled around the drinks section of the party and I could see someone was talking about 'bonds', 'coupons', 'rates'. These events in Lagos were more about networking than any other thing, I stood there for a while thinking of how to make my way through them toward the plastic cups.
I noticed the guy talking, his voice oozed authority and confidence, the kind of person who would feed you a whole load of crap and you'd take it because you were drawn in by the timbre of his voice. He was tall, but only slightly taller than I am. His features were strong and he looked really good. I realized I was actually staring and I looked away. Grabbing a seat near me, I sat, pinching away at my food till I could grab a drink. The noise from the bouncy castles distracted me a bit so I didn't realize he was standing by my side till he spoke. "Hey there!" He held out a plastic cup with orange juice. It was Mr. Hot Stuff Investment Banker. I wasn't sure if it'd be rude to decline but I wanted the strong stuff. He must have noticed my hesitation because he laughed and said "oh... My bad! You want some of the good stuff" I don't know why, but in that instant, maybe it was the sound of his laugh, or his intuition but I felt a pull towards him. "No it's fine. I'd have this. And yes you are right, I've been feening for the good stuff but this would do. Plus it feels funny sipping merlot from this plastic mess"
"You know your face looks really familiar, like I've met you before" he seemed uncomfortable as he spoke and I groaned and laughed at his discomfiture. "Sure my face looks familiar, that's my body double standing over there with her husband and her son" I laughed again. This was new. I was laughing a lot. He didn't seem like the sort to chat up a girl with the "your face looks familiar" line so I assumed he'd either worked with Teni before or something.
"No, not that. You don't even look that identical"
"Wow, that's a first! Not a lot of people can tell us apart"
"Well I can. I'm a stickler for details and you're slightly taller than your sister and you're errr..." He trailed off uncomfortably "I laughed again because I knew what he meant. I had rounder hips than Teni and even though I'd lost a lot of weight in the last year, I was still cursed with full hips.
"Yeah... I get what you mean" we both laughed and then he continued
"When I heard your sister call you Carrot Cake I remembered where we'd met... Well not really MET, but I saw you...". He rubbed his thigh involuntarily, I looked at him
"Do u want to sit down? Your leg is hurting?" I got up and made to go grab him a seat and he held me back... I turned around to face him and he moved closer. We stood toe to toe, he stared down at me and I felt my pulse quicken. I wanted to run away. I didn't need this, not now.
"You can feel it can't you? I know you can. I'm holding your wrist so I know. I felt it a year ago when you walked into that bank and I can feel it now. We can't run away from it. It's real and it's happening"
I looked at him, yanked my hand from his grasp and ran.

***

ONE 2010
He thought seminars and trainings were just a waste of time. He had always thought so; in the early days he spent hours preparing to lecture a bunch of uppity professionals who thought they had better things to do than learn about funds and the money market. He also had better things to do but twice a year he did this for himself to remind himself that the world needed to be educated about these things. These days he gave the lectures by rote, he had given hundreds of these speeches and he didn’t even need to look at his slides before he taught. He liked to look around the room and find at least one person who was remotely interested in what he was teaching, because these seminars were usually attended by mid level lawyers and bankers and they always had their head bent over their computers and he knew that these people really didn’t get the need to understand how the money market worked. Why their companies insisted on sending them here would never cease to amaze him; but he wasn’t complaining really. He needed the diversion. He needed to work and keep working because when he wasn’t working his mind roam free. Idle time meant thinking about a time that was so difficult for him. In the course of 18 months, he was played by a woman he thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He went on a downward spiral after that. In retrospect now that must have been a retarded time in his life because what intelligent man takes to drunken motorcycle races? Did he have a death wish? And then he had the accident which didn’t kill him but after months in a coma with a severe head injury and a broken left leg; with months of therapy and a bank account bleeding red he started making his way back. He realised being damaged and choosing to remain damaged had a longer lasting effect than one could ever imagine. And so he pulled himself together and started building his life again, choosing to work as much as he could to block out any pain, physical, emotional or financial.
Consciously pulling himself back to the board room and doing an overall sweep of the people he was about to spend the next 30 minutes or so teaching he sighed, he had a long day ahead of him. He had only gone half way through the slides when the door opened and Tayo walked in. She was wearing a blue t-shirt that had "I make 'em go WILD" written on it. He'd seen her exactly three times in his whole life and each time he felt something akin to peace. It was weird because he didn't even know her, he had asked about her though at the party last year after she fled. Tayo Olurin, she'd worked with Standard Charterd for five years. Single, very single. She'd has a couple of bad breaks and from what he gathered she had been on the mend. No wonder she ran when he started spewing all that jargon about "knowing" and "feeling". He wasn't lying though, he felt it and he knew it. Now more than ever he wanted the time to fly so he could go talk to her. He wondered if she'd still remember him. He needed to sit down soon because his thigh throbbed. He was supposed to use a cane but he told his physiotherapist that he was fine, but sometimes the pain rang through his brain if he stood up for too long.
****
She was late for the training, she didn't want to go anyway. It was a waste of her saturday as far as she was concerned but like every slave to the corporate machine, when work called you jumped. The trainer was running through some slides of bar charts and diagrams when she walked in, slightly embarrassed because her late entry had caused some kind of distraction she quickly pulled out the nearest chair and plunked herself into it. She'd just pulled out her laptop when she realized that she knew that voice; the chances of her ever forgetting it was very slim. It was the guy from the party last year. She felt an involuntary tremble in her stomach. She looked at him and she caught his gaze squarely on her. He remembered her and in that instant she knew that he knew that she also remembered him. She felt like a trapped mouse. She couldn't run as she did from the party, but she could sit out this session of the training and bail as soon as she could.
It was like the fates were against her because the next thirty minutes dragged on forever. She sat mesmerized by the wealth of knowledge he displayed and the ease with which he taught. She was clicking away furiously on her keyboard taking down notes and action points when she heard him behind her "Hi Tayo" He has a mischievous grin on his face which increased her discomfiture in seeing him "err, hi Mr Balogun"
"Oh right, I keep forgeting to stay within the lines of formality" he grinned again. His smile disarmed her and her words were caught in her throat. He sat down beside her whispered so only she could hear what he was saying
"Please let me take you to dinner. I promise I won't scare you away like the last time, but you have to admit there's something here. There's something that happens to me everytime I see you and I haven't felt that way before, but I know it's something good. It's calming and it's you. Please Tayo. This isn't a mistake"
She stared at him, his words left her dry mouthed because she felt exactly the same way. The fates and the oriental idea of yin and yang creating the perfect balance came to her head, he flooded her mind and it wasn't turmoil she felt, it was peace and calm.
She smiled and reached into her purse and pulled out her card.
"8, Taiwo Koya Avenue, Ilupeju. Pick me at 7"
It was him. It was her. They were the perfect match. There was balance

Regenerative Cells

2011-06-14T11:28:00.001+01:00

One thing has always fascinated me about the human body, it's our ability to heal. Irrespective of how bad we hurt, physically and emotionally, we heal. The scars remain but we heal.

This morning as I was walking down the road to meet my colleague for a ride to work, a commercial bike rider (OKADA) and his passenger slowed down beside me, collected my phone and zoomed off. Acttually they didn't really ZOOM like that, shey just took off. it's still surreal. One minute I'm telling my friend Jibola that he needs deliverance, the next minute I'm throwing my bag on the floor and racing after an okada... looking back now it must have been a hillarious sight. Plus I was shouting, "chase them, chase them, they took my phone". See the people around me just dey look, lol. When I couldn't run any more i kukuma came back to pick my bag and my cup of tea and resumed my posing and waka like I'd not just been robbed of a Seventy Thousand Naira phone. What has my stolen phone got to do with regenerative cells? Because I know I will be fine; not because I have money immediately to buy another phone right this minute... but because even though I'm hurt that I was robbed I know I will be fine. When my ipod was stolen I thought I would die... chei, what would my life be without music on the move? but what happened? I did NOT die!!

A friend of mine told me she was going through an emotional time, she was hurting from a recent heartbreak and she had turned to comfort eating. We had a long chat about how she was just going to end up fat with the same result eventually... she would heal, but not from all the mac and cheese and ice cream.. no.. but from the effluxion of time. Then she'd end up being that girl whose life came to a standstill, who became fat because a man left her.
Sometimes we hold on to our hurt because it makes us feel alive, like when we have a sore on our finger and then we keep touching it, it hurts but we keep touching it, hoping it heals, willing it to heal; and then when you notice, "hmm this thing doesn't hurt as much anymore sha", you pinch it a little bit (I dunno about you guys but this happens to me ALL the time) Why am I afraid to let the thing just heal, go away and if I'm lucky not leave a scar? I guess its how we are.
Sometimes you feel there are some things you will never recover from. Like the loss of a child, the loss of a husband? the loss of a sibling? I remember after the Sosoliso crash my heart went out to all those who lost their loved ones, but I kept thinking about MRs Ilabor who lost ALL her kids in that crash. I said, "if this thing happens to me I would just kill myself.." It wasn't until my brother died that I realised that whether it is one person oh, or two people oh... once you love someone and they die.. that pain that hits you is REAL. an avalanche and you think its just going to kill you from the overwhelming consumption of your essence, but then with every sunrise you get up, you trudge on, you heal, slowly but surely you heal.
I remember the story of the MD of transcorp who got arrested for some form of misappropriation of funds or the other and I could just imagine the kind of humiliation his wife must have felt. Guess who's out about and in the news again???? You guessed right.

My point, you will always get back up. why? because you're built that way. How fast you do and the damage that's done in your downtime however depends on you. How much of the circumstances/ the past do you want to steal from your future? How big a scar do you want to allow to be left behind?

You know you have regenerative cells, get up and move on. It's a new day so don't let the past take you away with it.

xoxo

p.s

I should start raising funds for a new phone shey? Let me know if you need my account number :)

After The Rain

2011-05-26T17:43:00.003+01:00

I've been working on this my writing thing and it's been fun so far. I've actually done it with a bit of trepidation but being able to do something constantly has filled me with so much joy. It's like I've recently discovered myself. True. :)

Anyway, so writing instructor asked me to do a story in the second person and my last post was my supposed attempt to write something in the second person. if you see the kain yab wey my teacher yab me ehn.... But being a sweetheart that he is, he told me to go and read one girl's blog and see how she wrote a particular post. Like a light bulb going on in my head, I immediately knew what to do.
His response Now you know what I asked you to do. this is still not good enough sha, work harder

Anywya, I hope you guys sha like it.

xxx

************
The Thunder

The sound of crashing thunder, the howl of the winds threatnening to take down everything in their path; the smell of the rain and the the striking of lightning leaving in its trail a glare bright enough to give an illusion of daylight. But you know better, you know that with every drop of the rain a darkness spreads within you. It is not enough to say that after the storms come a calm, because you know that with every storm, there has been another, and another and still another. You live because you are too much of a coward to do otherwise.
There is singing, and even though the people singing it are standing all around you, you can only hear it in a distance.
“when peace like a river
Attendeth my way
When sorrows like seas billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hath taught me to say
Even then, it is well, with my soul”

How can there be peace in the midst of this crashing thunder? The skies howl loudly again and you gaze up at the sky, the showers of the rain, like the tears of the sky. Nature seems to get how you feel, no one else seems to. You stare in silence, and you hear the words “dust to dust, ashes to ashes”, you don’t remember how the little shovel got into your hand, but you’re pouring the sand into the pit. You’re counting “one, two, three…”. Someone nudges you, people are milling around, all with words of comfort “Ireti, it is well. Be strong” “Take it easy Ireti. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh”. Strong arms hold you and pull you away. “Baby, let’s go home”
Like a dam whose barriers are broken down, that word “home” breaks something down, something you’ve managed to hold in for exactly. You realize there is no “home”, there is nowhere to go, there is nowhere called “home”. You let out a loud guttural scream and crumble right there on the ground
“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want my baby. Give me back my baby. I want my son. I want my son.”
The heavens open up some more, it is raining heavily now, you're on the floor. It doesn't matter that you're sitting in the red sand on the grounds of Earthen Vaults. The roll of thunder is inside and outside of you. You do not want it to stop because it has become a familiar sound. You're one with thunder. It has become a part of you.
"Ireti, Ireti, Ireti"

The Storm

"I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)
I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)"

Missy Elliot's voice fills your head, your head is against the car door and the rain drops hit the window pane. With every slap of the rain, you’re transported to another time and place. It was another time when the storms of infertility and miscarriages rocked the boat of your existence. With every miscarriage you realize that something lays within you that is able to stand irrespective of the storms of life, you trudge on and yet again, it hits. Sorrow, tears, and blood like tidal waves and each one came with a force strong enough to topple and somehow you find an anchor. You reach out for him and his hand squeezes yours, he holds on to him. The car stops for a second you are back to the present reality and you realize the tears are from your eyes and the blood flows from your heart. The sorrow lingers deep within your soul. You feel the pressure on your hand again, you don’t turn around, and he doesn’t expect you to. He’s telling you without words “We are going to make it through this, together”
After years of trying to have a baby, you’re blessed with a baby boy. You choose to call him “Tamilore” because he’s nothing short of a blessing from God. He’s a good boy, the star and the light of your life. He’s the reason for which you get up in the morning and go to work, because you want him to have the best things you can give him. So you go to work and you come back every day, knowing that you’ve been blessed thoroughly.
“Ireti, where are you? I need you to come home now” It was downhill from then on. The words keep flashing through you head. You’re hearing it all over again, you’re reliving the last 7 days in your head again. “Kidnapped”, “ransom”, “ten million”, “confirmatory call”
The ‘confirmatory call’ never came. The money was taken to the drop off point. You know this because you stood anxiously by the door as they drove out of the house. Willing to remain at the door till your 9 year-old runs into your arms screaming “mama” you stand there till it starts raining, and then you go inside. He’ll come home. Home, where you all belong.

The Sunshine

"God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference"

The car pulls into the driveway of the house and there’s stillness in the air. You are still staring out of the window, but it takes a minute before you realise that the rain has stopped. The door of the car is being opened and you’re being helped out of the car you realise that the sun is shining brightly. The dark clouds have given way for a clear blue canvas spread in the sky. There’s a rainbow in the horizon, you squint while trying to look at it, with a desire to put things into perspective, you stop and stare. People are milling around, there’s an uncomfortable silence, and everyone is waiting for you to take that first step towards the house. The step which indicates the rest of your life is continuing without Tamilore. The one which says you’re willing to move on.
You’re being held by your shoulders; support.
“We’ll be fine love”
You turn and stare at him. Swollen eyes , the result of sleepless nights. Days and nights of liasing with the police and the security detail from the office, working tirelessly to bring your little boy back home, all to no avail.

The clear blue skies bear no indication of the turmoil that preceded it. The rainbow which lines the edge of the blue canopy does not in any way let on that there had been a rumble in the sky, an outpouring of rain. ‘Twas all gone, the darkness; and like a new sheet spread across the wide expanse of the sky a new day.
You step forward, knowing that irrespective of the thunders, and the storm, there is always the sunshine that comes after it. He who holds the canopy of the sky with his hands is not going to live you nor forsake you.
So with an outstretched hand, you take the hand of your husband and your best friend and you take a step forward, into forever.

Alas, the world didn't end!!!

2011-05-23T15:10:00.005+01:00

I'm a blog whore. I prowl the streets of blogville everyday, looking for something interesting to read. I jump on links posted on Twitter in search for something witty and interesting to read. I have found soo many funny and interesting blogs, sometimes I don't go back there because I don't remember their urls and for some reason I don't follow so many of them, thus I don't know when they have new posts. One thing I've discovered in my blog-ashewoism is this.. there are FUNNY and SMART people in this world ehn... like rolling on the floor humorous people. Sometimes I'm ashamed of my blog (x_x). If I were me I probably would not want to come back to this blog, so for those of you who make time out to actually read whatever garbbage I'm spewing on these pages... I thank you. Lol ( yes I'm practising my speech.. who knows when I might marry a prince or receive nobel peace prize for errr... world's life saving efo riro :D). Anyway, I promised to give my thoughts on this End of the world thing shey? ok that's why I'm here.

I rememmber when I was a lot younger, 'they' said the world was going to end on the 28th of October. My first thought was "Ah Ope oh! It's exactly a day after my birthday (hint hint.. for those of y'all who wanna get me pressies.. not too early to start planning) As a child, my sole priority was having to 'do my byday' Lol

An old preacher in the US of A predicted that the world would end on the 21st of May 2011. It was one of those things you hear and laugh. I mean for time immemorial people have been saying the world would end. Even in the time of Apostle Paul, they had been predicting the end of the world and he had to tell them " guys guys chill out. Only God knows when the world would end" (i paraphrased) Anyway we cracked jokes about how people who were interested in divesting themselves of their earthly possessions should hurry and do so since they had no need for it as the Harold Camping Chariot was definitely coming to take them home. I mean if thw world is going to end why would you need your Bentley?

We were riding to work and my friend asked me "If the world ends truly on saturday what would you be sad you didn't do? things you want to do before you go..." I said "nothing" She said "ahn ahn... u don't want to marry? have experienced the joy of child birth?" I had a blank look on my face as I gave it a second thought, my response was still the same "nothing"

Now don't get me wrong oh, I'm not saying I don't wanna be very rich or I don't wanna yell in the labour room, or have mind blowing married sex... I'm just saying.. I have no control over the time schedule of my existence here so why should I say by fire by force oh, i must born pikin before I kpai?or "ah the world must not end before I marry oh" IS IT IN UR HANDS? Last week a guy who was in law scool with me was shot dead in his own home... four days after his wedding. It was shocking and extremely sad. Right there, his life was snuffed out of him by assasains.

My point? it doesn't make any difference. Everybody's story is different. There is no checklist of 'achievements' that makes your life story more fulfilling than the next mans own. Make the best of your life. Touch lives. Make a difference, and when the time comes... hang your boots and go down a hero knowing that you did what you could in the time GIVEN to you.

Much love
xxx

Trial and Error

2011-05-20T19:44:00.002+01:00

Hey people,
So if you're on Twitter and if you've heard of a man called Harold Camping or that's what I think his name is sha... you would have heard that the world is ending tommorrow the 21st of May 2011. SO I was going to do a long post about the world ending and my thoughts on it... as a friend of mine engaged me in a convo about things I would like to do before the world ends. Ofcourse "Contrary Ronke" did not care a hoot whether the world is ending or not. I promise I'll still do an end of the world post tonight... I mean.. you guys should read it before the world ends tommorow no be so?? LOL

It's been a while since I was here. I know I said I would repent and al but I've been lazy. Actually I haven't. I have been trying my hands on fiction writing and it's been fun. My brain stretches when I have this idea and sometimes I find mytself acting out my life as whatever character I am trying to build. It's been fun really. I have this "writing instructor" who tells me stuff to write and gives me a deadline and I like it cause it gives me a sense of purpose. I don't know if this writing thing is for me (OK I Lie... i know it is what I want to do, I just don't know if I'm good enough and also not sure how the people who fuel their cars from writing go about it!!) You see my instructor is a bit of a meanie... ( actually I love him so so much.. still a meanie though!! :p) and what I wanna share with you guys was rejected by him in fact he gave me a "thumbs down" :( **sad sad sad face**

I hope you guys are not as harsh as he is sha. Enjoy

**********************************

Temi met Michael at V Bar in Lekki. It was one of those days you learned that the traffic on Ozumba Mbadiwe Avenue had gone on for hours and your best bet was to steer clear of it. Her colleague had suggested that bar, it was a sports bar and pretty decent, they could wait out the traffic and gist at the same time. Life was hectic enough as it was without having to add the stress of Lagos traffic to the madness of work all in one day. He was a gorgeous looking man and he knew it. He spoke to her slowly and quietly as if his voice was a treasure which he gave out in tiny doses. Offering to buy her another drink, he slid into the chair beside her. “Nice bag” he said as he put her bag on the table “Channel? Last season? It tickled her to no end that he knew about bags, you could tell that he was slowly charming her up. They chatted for over an hour and she giggled like a teenager every second of the way. He interjected every line with a word in pidgin and teased her mindlessly about being a light head when she said she didn’t want another drink. She gave him her card and asked him to call her, it was the boldest she had ever been, but this was a new Temi, she was happy she was not being so shy and introverted any more.
He called her later that night, and the day after that, and even after that. He was like a drug her system could not get enough of. It was like being on a roller coaster and she was not ready to get off. When he touched her she burned on the inside, like a teenager experiencing her first surge of hormones. Every time they got together, it was like a merging of two lost souls, her body craved his and his desired to mould her. She felt alive, he ignited her in a way no one else had. It was as if she had been locked up all her life and the night she met Michael was her liberation day. Her body told her head that she wanted this forever, nothing else mattered. The fact that he borrowed her car ever so often did not matter, she was cooped up in the office all day long anyway. What did it matter that he was owing her almost half a million naira now, monies he collected in little portions, all in the name of running his business. There was always a new idea he came up with, the last one was a travel club. He was going to get a bunch of people to take much needed holidays to the far east. What did it matter that she knew the ideas were the product of a child who never grew up living somewhere in the body of an adult. However, that body did wonderful things to her and so when she thought about it she let go of her inhibitions. After all, she accused Akin of being too serious. She broke up with him because he had every detail of his life AND her planned to the minutest detail. He didn't want to live a little. Everything was serious, and calculated with him. He was good, and kind and sweet but he never wanted to try something new. Temi was glad she allowed herself to live a little, enjoy the little thrills of life.
She was going to be thirty, she'd gone through the phases of people wondering when she was going to get married. "Always the bridesmaid; never the bride". Her life with Akin had been great; he was a good man, stable. Almost too stable infact, but she wanted more.
"I want to live a little, you never want to go anywhere, do anything new. I'm sick and tired of living like this." She was 25; it appeared life was stagnant so she threw in the towel. He tried to talk to her, to get her to listen... She wanted change. They had been together for almost 4 years; they were like an old married couple, only she wasn't happy. He tried to talk her out of it "tell me what you want me to do? Tell me how I can make it better. I want to be with you, because you complete me, you are mine". When a woman is done and filled with discontent, anything you do would only breed resentment and anger, and so he let her be.
She enjoyed being single, she had no restraints, no inhibitions. She travelled every year to a new city, tried out new things. Sky diving in Dubai, she volunteered at the winter olympics in Vancouver, saw the Massai of Kenya. She lived and she wanted to continue living, with the perfect man beside her, who wanted the same things she wanted.
You could tell that Michael lived, and Temi wanted this. That night he was wearing a Ralph Lauren Tee tucked into his jeans so the "H" of his Hermes belt was unmistakable. Michael exuded raw sexuality, his muscles strained against the shirt she just wanted to touch him, feel him. The only thing that kept Temi glued to her sit was a niggling thought which she'd been unable to shake off "how does he afford a new Hermes belt and Gucci slippers and his business isn't taking root???" He cared about her; he was always there to listen to her troubles about work. She shared with him her achievements. It didn't matter that the week after she told him she'd got a mid-year performance bonus, he told her about a brilliant idea he just had of how they could help people ship cars in from America and make an interest, if only he had a little start-up support. She pushed those thoughts aside because when it came to it, it was the little things that count. She had been talking about wanting to try out Indian food and so that evening they sat outside the Indian restaurant on Isaac John road in Ikeja and just there out of the blues, he knelt down with a gleaming ring in his hands he asked her to marry him.
**
Michael and his buddies were in the living room when she walked in carrying a plastic bag of groceries. They said distracted Hellos to her and continued watching the game. The air reeked with the smell of tobacco and a quick dart of her eyes to the table confirmed that it had been accompanied by Hennessey. Four grown men, sitting around idly all day drinking and smoking without a care in the world, you could tell that it was the bringer of the bacon who just walked in. This was the case literally as Temi untied the plastic bags that contained the bacon and ham she just bought, and arranged them neatly in the freezer. Shutting the door with a purpose you could sense the unusual vibe of anger and discontent resonating through her. It was the tobacco; she had asked that smoking be done outside her living room, on the balcony, downstairs, on the road, anywhere but her house.
Who marries a man with no source of income, no desire to provide for himself? Who marries a man who makes her body sing to the highest heaven at night but is content with sponging off his wife by day? His friends were losers, all hoping to "score". That was "loserspeak" for getting a financially comfortable, upwardly mobile professional woman. She didn't have to be too pretty as long as she looked like she was thirsty for something, or waiting to be found.
Temilola Irukevwe wanted to live and here she was indeed living yet dying slowly on the inside. You could see the misery in her eyes, the exhaustion as she cleared the dirty dishes in the sink. Ever so often her mind wandered to how life would have been different if she didn’t have to worry about paying the bills, buying fuel for the generator, paying the laundry man and the security guard. No point in crying over spilt milk. She peeled the potatoes and she hummed to DJ Klem and Efa “Try Again” the words “Everybody’s searching or waiting to be found” resonated in her head, in her search and her quest for something she found Michael. “I don’t care how many times I tried, I’ll try again, I’ll try again” The tears flowed and she sang, tears for herself because she realised she was waiting to be found. She grabbed a newspaper with which she would toss the potatoes peels and she spread it out on the kitchen worktop. The picture on the obituary jumped out at her and she let out a loud guttural scream. The words “Akin Kuteyi” “beloved son and brother” “motorcycle accident” “37 years old” floated before her eyes.
She wanted to live a little, and now she was dead inside. She had asked him to live a little, and now he was dead inside and outside.

Here and now

2011-04-28T10:02:00.001+01:00

This is something i wrote as an entry for a writing workshop advert i saw in the papers last week. I changed my mind about sending it in. A friend of mine called it raunchy. Another friend said it had her juices stirred. :D. I totally enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it too.
Have a good day :)

************************************************************

I could hear the rustling sounds of the fallen leaves outside my window, the whirling of the wind and the slamming of windows. The sun had set and the evening breeze was there, sweeping away everything in it's path. One part of me wanted to go and close the window and pull the blinds, but I was being held back, by a force, so primal, so intense, so real. My eyes were closed, but for the clashing winds and the sound of threatning rain, I would have been completely oblivous to the world around me. I hung on to him for fear that if I let go I'd fall down, such was the intensity of the wave that was going through me. I felt his hands run down my back and then up my side, all the while his tongue plunged deep inside my mouth. It was like a dance, a primal quest for survival, what his tongue and mine were engaged in. I gave as much as I got. I gasped, knowing he had his palm on the cusp of one of the nubian twins. He rubbed my nipples and I felt his mouth pull away, I gasped again, as one who was being deprived of oxygen at the same time knowing that I would feel the tide beneath break loose once he kissed my now erect buds. I could only hope as I held him. I touched him, the hard length of him, all mine. I couldn't get a thought through my head, it felt like the whirling winds were only in my head and not outside my window, I could not think straight, because this was Seun. It has always been Seun for me. With him, I couldn't go through the motions, it was like my body recognized his and like a flute at the hands of a seasoned concert player, my body hummed. It wasn't Tumi, head of procurement at Cristol Oil and Gas, this was not Tumi, Chief Usher at Upper Room Fellowship Centre, this was just Tumi, primal female, nubile Tumi, at the hands of the only man who ever made her purr. And like a cat long deprived of milk, I purred as his fingers caressed my now damp panties! "Let's go upstairs", I head his voice ringing far away. How he managed to string together those words will forever elude me for I was ready to be ravished here and now on this wet wet wet June evening..
Sated is really putting it mildly, how I felt hours later. I got up to go to the bathroom and my limbs reminded me of how I felt. I stared at the mirror, I looked disheveled and yes, sated. With a wry smile on my face I traced my lips and thought, it would always be good between us. I thought about the times we spent deluding ourselves that we were just friends, all the years of suppressing what we both felt. Till that new year's day in 2003 when Alex called to tell me our Mom had died! I was confused, and numb. It was like I was on auto pilot. My Malaysian flatmate, bless her heart Christie called Seun. My friend, my gossip partner, my study mate, my confidante, the closest thing I had to family in that cold cold country, he came as soon as he could. He met me sitting on the floor, staring into the closet like a child! He held me for the longest time, and then he kissed me. I remember leaning into that kiss with the force of a thousand tsunamis. I guess I thought somehow, I could ease out the pain and hurt I felt. I smiled now at the memory of how that night ended. I had had the best sex of my life with my best friend. My best friend who was going home in 6months to marry his high school sweetheart.
8 years later, the roles are reversed and he has come to me for comfort. Tolu walked out on him and took his boys. I'd never stopped loving him. I glared at my reflection in the mirror, chiding myself "Tumi, fantastic, mind blowing, out of the world sex is NOT the same as love". But he came to me, I said to myself, he came to me... I have him now, and for me it has always been him. I walked back into the room, got into the bed and went astride Seun. I felt him stir, all of him, I took him inside me and threw my head back. If all I had was here and now, I was willing to take my chances.

I shall not die

2011-04-19T08:43:00.003+01:00

"I shall not die but live and declare the works of the Lord"

My first conscious memory of these words from the bible was in July 1998. My aunty had cancer and the doctors had told her that it had spread into her bone marrow so she was brought back to Nigeria to die. I'd just come back home from secondary school and my parents were not in the country so my other aunty and I were alone in the house taking care of her. She was in a lot of pain when she was awake and to douse the effect of the pain she was put on Morphine. As you can imagine, the church folk kept trooping into the house with prayers and words of encouragement and bible passages. Prayers of different types, forms and nature (ehn you sha get my point... orishirishi). People came and prayed. She was told to recite that passage over and over and over "I shall not die but live to declare the works of the Lord". She recited the words, and on the 5th of August, my aunty died. I watched her suffer in so much pain, and she died.

As a young christian I just couldn't understand it, shebi they said she should declare, shebi she declared. I was torn between my grief and my wavering faith. I knew when my grandma died and she died in her sleep and she was old, but here was my aunty... aged 51 who taught me vowels and consonants... in pain and she still died after all that prayer? ha! I was so so confused. As I grew older I learnt that our prayers have to go with our faith, that when you pray you have to believe that our prayers would be answered. So I said ok, lesson learnt. Later on, I learnt that God has the sole discretion to answer prayers, so even when we pray, and we have faith that our prayers would be heard, HE has the final say cos he's the 'perfect' ONE who knows what is best for us and in the end of the day we say "thy will be done".

So does this mean that there is no need to pray so hard any more? does this mean that no matter how often we DECLARE something it is not a guarantee of getting what we want? I mean does this mean that people who die have no desire to live any more? is their work on earth done? if they had prayed harder, would they have lived? was their faith not strong enough to hold them through? I mean I prayed/ we all prayed for my cousin when he had the accident and he survived, he was bleeding into his brain and he survived, with a facial scar.. he survived.. and then Sage (my brother) dies?? But who are we to question God?? Does this mean that we should just take a siddon look approach with God and just say "You're gonna do what you would do anyway... I don't need to make any effort". If something doesn't work out for me, how do I know if I'm being inhibited by sin or if I'm just not praying hard enough or if I don't believe it enough or if God just doesn't want it for me? How do I know?

I know my blog isn't a theology class but sometimes I'm just sooo confused at the dynamics between God up in heaven and us earthlings, creatures of the Most High. What's our role exactly in the grand scheme of things?

Last night my sister got news that her friend died. He'd been ill for about 3 months and he got better. She was so excited that God did this great tremendous thing in the life of her friend and how He was faithful and next thing she hears Shegzy is dead. How do you reconcile that? is my faith too little to grasp how God works? Do I need to grow deeper in God? How much more faith do we need to have? and is it only when you face the final point of death that we hands off and say "Have your way oh Lord" If I declare that I shall not die but live to declare the works of the Lord, and the will of God is for me to die before I'm 30, does it mean I didn't declare hard enough?

I wanna live my life in such a way that when I'm gone I'd have achieved what I was placed on earth to do. I think I have gotten to the point where I don't care if I pass away today. I am not afraid of death. I have come to the point where I know that any day, any time I can slump and die. No this is not me being "unchristianly". This is me knowing that in the end of the day I'm not the one who determines whether I get to take the next breath or not, so why should I be going gragra. I'm going to live my life in the fear of God, and submit to the total and final will of God. I will have faith that HIS good and perfect will be done in my life. I'm not sure about declaring that I will not die. However, I will declare that while I have breath in me, I will live a life worthy of the number of years that God has chosen to give me...freely.

Whether or not i die... it's completely up to HIM

Wifey Much

2011-04-16T10:10:00.002+01:00

I've been meaning to write about this issue for a longgggg time, I've just not been able to put my thoughts together long enough to actually type. I pray I'd be able to hit the 'publish' button today Saturday the 16th of April. hehehe. In other TOTALLY UNRELATED news... we have the presidential elections in Nigeria today. I woke up and i went to the polling booth to get accredited. I'm kinda proud of myself because I never thought I'd actually go through with it for two reasons;1, my mother practically threatened me with all sorts of things to get me to register and 2, I don't know who I'm gonna vote for. I know I want the basics of light, constant power, good roads, running water, a good transportation system and all that but I'm not sure that any of the people running are going to do anything differently anyway so I just felt i'd rather not vote. However, if you're a young educated Nigerian right now, and you dare say you're not voting it's tantamount to saying "may the refineries never work in Nigeria again lai lai" or " Nepa will never give us power again" so when it is 12, I shall stroll back to the polling booth and pray that the Holy Spirit gives me guidance as i thumbprint.

Ok, enough about politics, that isn't the point of today's post. As always I need your opinion on something that's niggling at the back of my head.

As a girl, if your boyfriend has a place of his own and your boo is a bit of a slob, do you clean up while you're there or is that tantamount to being a "wifey". Guys, if your girl helps you clean up a bit, fold your clothes, make sure your sink/work top is clean and dry, do you think she's being forward?

on the other hand if he stays at home with his folks and his mum and aunties are making sunday lunch do you go help out or do you sit not wanting to be deemed forward?

A friend of mine told a story of how she went to visit her boyfriend in Porthacourt and found the dude was sleeping with his landlord's daughter/niece/sister-inlaw. Anyway, my friend B, being a very calm 'porraicourt' girl told the 'helper' that she wasn't here to quarrel or fight with her. She said her issue was this, "if the girl dey help me sleep with am, she suppose dey help me dey clean the house na... no be sey I go come from lagos bathroom go still dey dirty, room go dey dirty,na me go still dey come buy things for inside fridge and all that". It was hilarious. Really what role does one play as a girlfriend play when she's in a 'serious' relationship. I don't mean where you guys are just f&^k buddies oh!!! (pardon my french) cos in that case no one expects you to notice anything other than what you're there for and how comfortable or rough you like getting IT!

Personally, I don't think it's an abomination to clean up your boyfriends place, especially if he lives alone, and if you're not a 'homebuddy' I think you can arrange for him to get a cleaner to come in once in a while to clean up the place. I mean you go there ALL the time anyway, why would you feel comfortable in a place that's so dirty and untidy? and no I'm not encouraging boys to be slobs but if I don't think the girls who date slobs should be given a free pass. Unless ofcourse she's a slob too. My cousin Aji lived in my house once. He's like the most untidy person I know in this world. His room always had dirty plates from two weekends in a row, his dirty shirts were always on the floor, his stinky socks and shoes were always on full display. I remember how my sister and cousin always used to ask him to clean up his room, but one thing I remember vividly is how girls used to come and go through that room. He had girlfriends who brought food to him in that smelly dirty room. I was always amazed. Don't get me wrong oh, Aji is such a sweetheart but I couldn't get past girls who dated him and stayed for hours in that room.

Am i the one with issues? cos no way am I gonna allow you keep me in a dirty place, instead i'll just have us meet somewhere else oh! Hian!!!! Worriz all that?

Anyway, is it too much to clean up where you'd be 'hosted' or is a girl over stepping her boundaries if she washes the dirty dishes in your sink? what if she arranges for someone to come and keep your place clean and tidy? do u assume she's fishing for a marriage proposal?

Is cleaning up too much?

Intellectual Redundancy

2011-03-24T10:59:00.002+01:00

Towards the end of last year I was in a place of confusion with regards my career. I was stuck in a rut, I didn't know what I wanted ( maybe I still don't know sef, hence, why I'm writing this) and I was rather confused and unhappy. Scratch that, it wasn't my career per se that was making me unhappy, it was the fact that I needed more money and I wasn't seeing it happen. So I started poring over the Tuesday and Thursday Guardian, searching for anything, any opening, something, one thing, ANYTHING! I was confused the private sector had nothing for me since all I kuku want is money isn't it? I asked around, "what field of the public sector pays well?" I mean i knoew for sure I definately didn't wanna go to the ministry of justice... hell to the nizzle!!! Not after being in an office with airconditioning and fast inernet and working photocopiers and intercom! no no no!! I wasn't willing to go below what I had grown used to professionally. Special shout out to our friends who work in the civil service... May the Lord bless your hustle! Lol

Ok I digress, sorry. So in my quest for a new job or career opportunities, I was told that federal parastatals especially in the finance sector and in the oil and gas sector were the big payers!!! WooHoo!! I applied to NNPC and SEC. Fingers crossed on that! But the issue that arose is this.."INTELLECTUAL REDUNDANCY" These words have been swimming around in my head since January. I love to have money and all, but I also don't want to have spent 30years of my professional lives writing letters to external counsel reminding them to provide me with an update. **gasp** I mean it's all nice and dandy collecting money and all but what happens if I end up being one of those Director Generals with absolutely no clue on how the system works outside. I mean in this my office, bad as e bad reach I learn new things every day. I get exposed to high level international transactions, I may be getting paid peanuts but when I read about some transactions in the news, I have this secret smile inside knowing I worked on it or I heard about it. I asked a friend of mine what he thought about going to work in the public sector and how I was worried that my brain cells would atrophy if I just went to some parastatal to tweedle my thumbs, he said " Ronke, did you say they pay well? Omo, if you have a chance go there, take the money and if you feel your brain is dying out play Sudoku or something" I laughed really hard that day and thought, wow get a rubix cube, play sudoku, crosswords are there and you'd be find doing "availability at Corporate Affairs Commission"

The silent battle between wanting more money and being intellectually redundant. I spoke to my cousin recently about this issue. He works for a multinational investment bank and he has worked there for three years. He's moving to Nigerian Deposit Insurance Company in April. Now NDIC is a government parastatal and everyone I know who works there says "mehn... that place is the ish!! the money there is not small matter!" However, when I ask these guys about the kind of work they do i get a shrug of "you know this and that, a bit of this and a bit of that". This doesn't help someone like me who's already confused. So I asked my cousin the high profile investment banker "S, why aren't you afraid of intellectual redundancy" and he said " omo, na person wey no get sense go reash dat kain place siddon sey he no go study or advance himself. I mean Ronke, there's so much time and there are so many opportunities for scholarships and study leaves in the public sector that only a foolish person would rest on his oars and become intellectually redundant!" This was such a light bulb moment for me. like Selah or Eureka ( i really don't know if I've used those words appropriately but u sha get the general picture *kaching* *bells ringing*lol)

So there you have it, I found how to go chill with the "chillers" in the public sector and at the same time keep my brain working.

Pray with me oh, because the koko of all this is that I WANT MORE MONEY ;)

Know Ya Self

2011-03-23T11:02:00.002+01:00

My friend J.D came to the house yesterday and accused me of not updating my blog. She sounded irritated actually, and I sat there laughing because really there's no reason why I haven't posted something new. It's not for lack of having something to talk about or to rant about... it's just........... I don't know! So I apologize. I promise to be more dedicated to the readers of my blog. I mean what's the point of being lazy?

Speaking of laziness, I'd like to tell you guys that two years after I said I was gonna start my piano lessons, I finally started... ( yes let us wave our hands in the air!!!) I have done two lessons and honestly I'm still struggling with my counts but thank God i remember the rudiments from my growing up days The notes on the treble cl eff are "Every Good Boy Deserves Favour", "F.A.C.E" and for the bass clef "Good Boys Deserve Favour Always", "All Cows Eat Grass". You see, it's kinda hard trying to count 1,2,3,4 at the same time trying to determine what line the note is on..**sigh** if only I'd been less playful as a child. Oh well, I'm picking myself up and I hope I'll be able to play something meaningful by September. So y'all should pray with me to overcome the scales on the piano. Alicia Keys wont have no'n on me when I'm done **wide cheesy smile**

Anyway I wanna know your take on something that has been bugging me in recent times. It's the issue of "being comfortable in your skin" "not letting anything be the determinant of your lifestyle". I went for a wedding two Saturdays ago and one of the friends of the bride was wearing a knee length tube dress. The dress wasn't indecently short and her boobs weren't out there on display like that, no... that wasn't the issue. The chic had badly discoloured skin. Like really really!!!. As we danced behind the bride to usher her in, I stood behind the girl in the tube dress, I stared at her back, with all the shades of her skin out there on display. I looked at her legs, same thing... multicoloured. I thought "wow, your skin is so bad, you really shouldn't be wearing stuff that shows so much skin", and as soon as I finished the thought process, I chided myself and said "oh well, she didn't create herself" I couldn't shake off the feeling. Trust me nah, Aproko United, I proceeded to ask my friend (the bride) yesterday. Me:"ah.. why did that your friend XYZ now wear a tube dress?" Bride:"What was wrong with the dress?" Me: "it was a tube dress and her skin is really discoloured. I just feel she should have worn something that covered her back at least" (Like I said... it was the aproko in me that wouldn't let that issue go!!) Bride: " There's nothing wrong with her wearing a tube dress, yes she has discoloured skin but she has not allowed it to deter her or get in the way of her lifestyle. We called her miss Polka in Uni and we've all known she's had that kind of skin" Me: #Pause #Pause #Pause

Now you see, this issue of being comfortable in one's skin and not letting one's 'circumstance' hinder ones lifestyle is all well and good but I believe there's a thin line.... a VERY thing line between this and knowing ones self. Look at me for instance, I'm a round girl, I wont even say "chubby" chubby was nice and cute when I was 8, now I'm just rotund! Lol. I'm quite full figured, now lets take that full figured me and put it in a tube dress, or even a tight top and skinny jeans!!!(X_X) IT IS NOT JUST OK!!!!! Am I supposed to torture everyone who sees me? NO!! I mean people need to dress appropriately. I'm not a prude or anything, I'm all for sexy silhouettes and showing off hot steamy legs and booty but please, let it be something of good aesthetic value abeg!!! and none of that BS of one man's meat is another man's poison. Imagine Precious in a jumpsuit saying she's comfortable in her skin **aghast**

Anyway, lemme know what you think about this, you know we learn everyday.

In other news... So last week I was having lunch in my office with my colleagues and our librarian was there too. I can't rememeber what we were talking about but Lady Librarian decides to chip in "words of wisdom" and she goes "well, when you're in Rome, do like the Romans, and when you're in JEW do like (#pause #pause) the Jew." I can tell you guys rice went from my mouth into my nose. It took all of my restraint and I mean every single muscle of restraint in me not to burst out in laughter... like people what the hell is "When you're in Jew"?? LMAO. My colleague told me later that she stumbled on her words cause she saw the look on my face, that Lady Librarian's lips wereshaped as if she wanted to say "Jewans"..... LMAO

Ladies and gentlemen, let's just say, our motto in this life should be "know ya selfffffff" Lol whether it's in dressing or it's in attempting to drop snippets of wisdom where none is required of you... do what??? Know Ya Seffff

The worth of a man

2011-01-14T12:20:00.002+01:00

A few years ago my mom and I went to a dealership to buy a car. After signing the paper work we turned around and as we got to the car, the clerk followed us and asked me for my number, I looked at him and said I didn't have a phone. He smiled at me and I glared back, entered the car and left. The events of that day in R.T Briscoe is often recounted to me over and over again by mother. She cites it as an example of pride and setting too high standards. Every opportunity she gets to talk about my being single and how I have 'high standards', she is quick to talk about the R.T Briscoe clerk.

Last week, she said that this year she was going to encourage me to be a friendlier person and then said if Mr. ABC says he likes you, give him a chance. I gasped, "Mom, Mr. ABC is a clerk in my office, besides he is dating one of the cleaners". I burst into tears immediately. Had my case become one of "anyone wey come?". I was miserable. I cried and cried and cried and cried. I mean here I am, a well educated young woman, being pawned off to the nearest bidder, not highest oh... nearest!!! My mother said "the worth of a man is not where he is right now". This got me thinking, asking myself the question...Am I proud? am I choosy? am I a picky individual? I have said it time and time again and even readers of my blog know this, I ask for very few things and in this order:
1. The fear of God (A man with the fear of God entrenched in him is estopped from doing hurtful things. He will be governed by the tennets of God and as such will love me as he loves God. I do not mean all those eye-service Christians oh, those ones that will say I should not wear "trozziz". I mean a fear of God and the genuine love of God embedded in his core. Note that I did not say 'awon spiro' oh. I didn't say those 'i-live-in-the-church-but- i-can-kill-you-with-my-nasty ass-unforgiving-spirit'. I mean the true love of God. Shey you get??)
2. Education, drive, wit, and intellect. This is self explanatory. I can't over emphasize these things. All four are fundamental and I believe they are a four-in-one cocktail.
3. Family background.A lot of people make the stupid mistake of saying "I'm marrying him not his family" can I get a resounding "DeyDere!!!!!" For me, a person's family background goes a long way in forming who he is today, his mindset and how his inclinations are. Now I know everyone can't come from the same type of stock but indeed iron sharpeneth iron. #NuffSaid.

As you can see I have not said the guy has to be stupendously rich, I have not said I require him to take me on holiday on an exotic island bi-annually. I have not said I will not move in with him into a small place. I tell you this, I can be with a man who has no car, who has a tiny room if he has the fear of God, he is educated, he has the drive for more, a desire for more, if he's witty and funn for God Forbid I live with a man who isn't funny or has no sense of humour. I will gladly take public transport with a kind hearted intelligient man. I will be with a man who's not intimidated by the fact that I have a loving family and who has kind family members. I want to be with a person whom I can start another family with.

I have enumerated here how I measure the worth of a man. because I realise that this "worth of a man" concept isn't universal. It isn't a one-size-fits-all thing. To each his own. For me, I don't wanna make a mistake. I am not shallow ( or at least I'd like to believe I am not) but I'd like to be able to talk to my partner/friend/husband about the nuances of my work, my interests and my life. There has to be that initial threshhold from which other things would be launched.

How do you measure the worth of a man/woman?

Resolved

2011-01-04T17:21:00.006+01:00

My office shut down on the 17th of December, so it's been a really long holiday for me. I'm back at work now and truth be told I do feel refreshed. The fact that there's no immediate pressure at work also helps too.

Yeah I know people normally start the year with lofty resolutions and all, my one resolution this year.. TRIPPLE MY NETWORTH by December 2011. I am sorry if it appears like I'm motivated by material things, but it is what it is. ;)

Ok, on to today's rant.

A friend of mine recently got "disengaged". Her fiance sent her a "Dear John" (or 'Jane' in this case). Dude listed out in a clear, coincise manner, all the things he called her "flaws" and stated that he was unable to accept them and they were not issues that were up for discussion. She was distraught. She spent the first month trying to call him and he wasn't picking up her calls. He asked his driver to take all her belongings to her house ( you know how we girls like to leave one or two things strewn around Boo's office... marking our territory and stuff like that.. not so subtle but yes we do it) anyway, so dude basicallly wiped out all traces of her from his life. She is STILL distraught.

The primary bone of contention with the guy was her religion. Lemme tell you a lil' som'n about my friend. She was has muslim parents, she was raised as a muslim and somewhere along the line, she became a Christian. Her ex-fiance is a muslim. According to him, when they met she told him she was a moslem. According to her, she told him she ws a "non practising muslim". He says she deceived him. All this before he used his mouth to PROPOSE to her oh! He knew about this 'deceit', he knew she had flaws and went ahead and asked her parents for her hand in marriage. He proposed to her and told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

He woke up one sunday morning and all of a sudden, he didn't want to be with her anymore. According to her, they didn't quarell, in fact, they had "resolved" the religion issue. He wasn't gonna force her to become a muslim and according to her, she would have reverted if he had asked.

Another friend of mine was in a similar situation a year ago. Hers was slightly different, in her own case it was a clear case of "You're a christian, I'm a muslim. I love you and I wouldn't try to change you." They added a slight twist to theirs; my friend promised her boo she wasn't gonna take "his" children to church. So for them, both parties were promising to stay in their own lane! (Hm!!! note the "his" children not "their" children) Anyway, they started planning their wedding and dude realises that you know what? This religion issue which we'd "resolved" isn't soo resolved o! Babe, I don't think I can do this. Another broken engagement.

This brings me to the crux of this post... what exactly do people mean when they say they've resolved issues that are as fundamental as religion when they are about to get married? Faith is a very personal thing, and as such I wonder, how do you "resolve" it just to enable a marriage?

I lived in a home where the mommy was a christian and the daddy was a muslim. Trust me, it was not fun! They were always fighting! Apparently before they got married wayy back in the late 60's the Mommy's father had made the Daddy promise that he'd never convert his daughter. It was "resolved": but as the years went by, Daddy became a real big shot in his town and his political career shot up! He was a visible Alhaji with a Christian wife. She grew older and increased her church activity. It was messy. Trust me. I lived through it. It was messy! I would cower at the foot of the step when the screaming started on sunday mornings when Mommy carried her bible and purse with plans to go to church.

Are these things ever resolved? Do you wanna go into a marriage knowing you're not in sync with your partner? Should both parties not be able to pray and encourage each other? My friend who is a muslim shared with me a story of how ALL her life she's always known her parents to pray together every evening. Like clockwork. They brought up their children in that way.

Faith, your faith is personal. It's the beacon that guides your walk through this maze called life. You know how they say "better a broken engagement than a failed marriage"? It sounds like a cliche but it is true. My friend dodged a bullet I tell ya!
I don't believe you should waver in your faith. Do what you know is right to do, not just for yourselves, but for your children. Don't let them grow up confused. Show them the right path and bring them up with a oneness of heart
All my life, I was brought up to believe that the father is the spiritual head of the home. I wanna marry someone who prays like me, who shares my faith. Someone who can say to me like my friend's dad... "Come up, let's pray". It is resolved!

When people ask...

2010-12-02T17:22:00.003+01:00

Ever wondered how easy it is to ask "How are you"? Ever noticed how quick we are to reply "fine, thank you!" Well, I notice how flippantly that question is ask. Most of the time the enquirer is no longer interested by the time he's done asking the question. Most of the time you issue your response so you can swiftly move on to the order of the day... whatever it is that you are about in the first place.

I take this question very seriously though. I never ask anyone how they are unless I genuinely wanna know. I usually ask with a bright smile on my face because I really care. I wanna know how you are and how you've been since the last time I saw you. I realise sadly, this is not the case with everyone.

I've been very weepy and teary eyed in the last one week. It's been a very sad time for me.I have a lot of those sad moments, but usually when I get infront of my laptop, I turn on my Modern family or Greys Anatomy and I'm fine. Recently, I've been really teary eyed, as in, it's been more than just being sad. I've been borderline depressed. You see, I'm a very cheery person ( or atleast I like to think I am) but like every cheery person, I have my downtimes. So these tears and stuff, only means this is really a bad time. Let me explain a bit.

You see, I believe if you're single,(manless) then you should have money, like loads of money, or a really fulfilling career. You know, something that you can look back on and say.. that's what I was doing that I didn't have time to settle down. It just occured to me that, I'm on this dreary road to nothingness, no career satisfaction, I haven't found where my talent lies, I'm not rolling in bucketloads of cash and I'm manless?? like really What The Heck??? When I was in Uni, I wasn't the partying sort, I wasn't the spiro born-again fellowship hopping girl.. and neither was I the top of my class.. LIKE FRIGGING SERIOUSLY... WHAT THE HECK?? I'm bloodly Jane Average!!!!!! So you see, I've been mulling this around this my head and it's been bringing me to tears. I'm so unhappy at work, I'm going through the motions, I travel to work everyday, leave at 8p.m get home just in time to have a shower and fall asleep. To crown it all.. I'm manless.. Like What The Hell????? Seriously, if this isn't enough to bring me to tears... well I'm sorry.. my threshold for hurt is very low. I bruise easily, which brings me to what precipitated this blog post.

So I tweeted that I was really sad and it;s been really hard to see beyond the tears at see those things I should be grateful for. Then a friend of mine gets on Gtalk and says.. "Why are you sad?" I said "It's really long and complicated I don't wanna talk about it because talking about it depresses me further and I'm in tears. Talking about it would only make me sadder" and then dude just goes on and on about how I should tell him.. then I finally tell him " oh it's about my job, I'm unhappy". Then he types "Dat's why you're crying, iranu(nonsense/trash/rubbish) Se iyen lo wa fa ekun (is that enough to warrant tears?)" I was in shock!!!! you see, if he'd just left me, I'd have been alright, I'd have been calm, I'd have been able to return to normal me, talking about Kanye West's new album and all things beautiful in the world. But in that moment, in that minute, I didn't need to be told I was crying for no just cause.

I know there are people starving in sudan, I know there are people who've been married for 16 years with no kids, I know there's someone out there who's just lost a kid, I know there's someone out there who's been jobless for 4years.. I know this. I however, do not believe this precludes me from being able to weep at a situation which causes me hurt. "Friend", if you knew you didn't really wanna know what was wrong with me WHY DID YOU ASK??? I'm really upset! Usually, I cry, and I'll be fine.

I got back from work last friday and I was in tears. I met my brother in my house, and I just dragged him to the back and cried. I cried for 10minutes, not explaining anything, just crying. He stood there, not judging, not shouting.. "what.what" he was there for me. Then when I finished I told him how miserable I was at work, how I needed something to challenge me. I needed a reason to keep going to work. You see, to someone else, these are 'minor issues' but right now, this right there is my 'major issue'. Please respect me enough to let my major issue be major to me and don't knock me, especially not when I'm down and out and miserable.

When my brother died in March, a lot of people who came to commiserate were more interested in the 'gist' of how the generator exploded. Was he putting fuel in it while it was on? was he using his phone? I'm like..really how insensitive do some people get? When people ask questions, are they really ready for the responses they'll get? or they just ask for 'asking' purposes? It's not compulsory you know

When you ask how a person is doing, please be ready for how they are really doing. Don't ask because you need 'material'. If you are not ready, please don't ask. Just walk on by. Walk on by.

Sadly yours

Eknoreda

What's Cooking??

2010-09-17T14:47:00.003+01:00

So I decided to update my blog and after typing the title I figured, what better way to seek inspiration than go down and get some food. So as I type this my good fellows, I'm a well fed legal practitioner... back at her desk and wishing the day would end ALREADY! ** sigh** Oh well, lemme quickly tell you guys something that's been bugging me for a while now. It's cooking.

I'm a very unique individual ( yes me and 10 billion other people in the world you might say?) well I am a very unique girl 'cos I was raised by various people. At different times, but one common thread ran through these different stages... "you must be a good cook, home maker and mother" I learned from my grandma, my mum and Mrs Yusuf. I grew up being taught that as a woman I had to know how to cook (WELL.. no be any how food oh), clean, take care of EVERY need of your children and husband. So, I learned to cook everything we eat in my house. I went to Uni and learnt some more.

Recently, I decided to be more adventurous and learn how to cook meals from other tribes/ cultures in Nigeria. So i decided to start with Ibo food cos I'm partially from the north anyway so i got a pretty decent handle on some soups from the Northern part of Nigeria. You can imagine my excitement when my ibo friends tasted my 'catering practicals' and gave me a nod of accession. I was told I was a natural. The excitement was short lived tho. I wanna tell you two things that doused the flames of my excitement.

1. The realization that knowing how to cook is not as ESSENTIAL I'd been raised to believe, and; 2. The fact that you can make all this 'local' food doesn't necessarily earn you points as a 'good' wife and home maker.

Recently a friend of mine started a relationship of some sort with a guy who lives in Asia. My friend is in her 30's and as such she was excited about this new relationship, with marriage in view. The dude asked her to come over to Singapore for a visit and you can imagine our corporate excitement about the fact that the relationship was 'progressing' towards a proposal and a huge rock :D. I asked her, "What would you be cooking for him when you get there?"

Lemme give you a quick background of my friend and what gave rise to this enquiry of mine. My friend is a very 'hawt', 'fly' chic who is in no way 'domesticated'. She lives in a house with a cook and says that she's had help all her life and as such can not be bothered to get her hands dirty. This is a long way from where I am coming from so you can imagine why I like her, she's a perfect insight to how the other side of the divide is.

She answered me, "cook ke? I am thinking of how to get a wax and how to keep my body bathing suit compliant you are asking me what I'll cook" I was in shock.. In all fairness to her, when she got to Singapore and she asked the guy what he wanted her to make for him, he responded "babes, you are on holiday, please let me treat you" There, in the garbage, she tossed the egusi and dry fish her mama asked her to take along with her after a crash course in cooking egusi the week before her trip.

So I found, there are men who aren't bothered about food. I mean, the fact that you can or cannot cook will not take you a step closer to getting the title "MRS" .

**sigh** Did my mothers lie to me?

The second thing that rocked my firmly rooted beliefs was that the fact that I can make awesome ogbono, fried rice, efo riro, grilled chicken.....( awesome is a very humble way of describing my cooking actually :P) I digress.... :D Anyway, so i found that the fact that I can make 'local' food doesn't neccesarily mean the man is going to be impressed. I'm terribly hurt as I type this.
This is me, a girl who's been brought up in a certain way, I mean we didn't have carbonara, squid in sweet and sour sauce, lamb in garlic sauce in the house. Those were things we had in restaurants when we went for someone's birthday. I'm a yoruba girl for chrissakes, I was born in Lagos and i've lived in Lagos all my life. Mac and Cheese was not served in my house as a regular. yam, Egg, Beans, Rice, Eba, amala, Pounded Yam, Spaghetti and meat balls ( if we wanted to get stylish) These were the things that were served in my house. I was shocked when I read on Twitter that a girl needed to know how to make some of these ' fancy restaurant' stuff as well.

You can imagine my state of mind. I mean, I'm growing up and finding out that being an innate homemaker doesn't guarantee you that a man would choose you over the beautifully clad bikini wearing chic who has absolutely no interest in cooking or home affairs. I'm growing up and finding out that all my 'awesome' catering skills will amount to nothing if I can't whip up squid in sweet and sour sauce.

So guys, what's the deal? what do you guys really want in a wife? I used to believe a guy needed a woman who loved him, supported him, took care of his children, gave him fantastic mind blowing sex, fed him ( belly and ego), wasn't an embarrassment to be seen with and made him feel like the alpha male at all times.

**sigh**

Why was I taught to be all this and I find out that it's still not enough?

What do men really want? Guys, what's really cooking? I need feed back!

Failed State

2010-08-17T18:46:00.005+01:00

I started writing this post in September. As I type this, it is 07.38pm, 8th November 2010. yes. I didn't blog at all in October. I am quite lazy like that, but I do appreciate the fact that some of you keep coming back to see what randomness has left my head and is laid bare for the world to see. You know I do this for both of us, you guys, and for my sanity. Sometimes I have so many things I wanna talk about but then I don't have the words. Do you know that feeling? I have recently discovered I do not know how to express myself properly. For a lawyer this is a horrible discovery, thank goodness I do not have to represent any poor person in court. I shudder at the thought of the Judge tossing me out. Let me give you an example, I was trying to explain to my colleague about how NNPC ceded a portion of their rights in certain Oil Mining Leases to a foreign oil company and I kept rolling my hands round and round. I said... "NNPC/ I mean the government, gave a percentage of the.. the .. the thing" She stood there with a blank look on her face. What I wanted to say was "NNPC made company X a co-venturer in the Joint Venture" The words "Joint Venture" eluded me for several minutes. It's sad though. I have decided however, that I need to slow down when
speaking to avoid looking like a bumbling idiot in the work place. I mean, what's the point of knowing what I know and not being able to express myself. Surely I'm no more than he who has no idea. At least his own mouth is closed!

**sigh**

Ok I've told you guys what I've recently discovered about myself. Let me tell you what I originally wanted to tell you in September.. or was it August?

Ok so NEPA (PHCN) Power generating and distribution company in Nigeria. I think that description is a failed one though, because they are neither generating nor distributing any power... Anyway, I digress, So NEPA went on STRIKE!! Yes, delayed I know but really how does a company like NEPA go on strike? Only in Nigeria. I don't think our leaders know how much of a failed nation we are without constant power.
I just got back from holiday somewhere in the North east of England; and as with everytime I'm out of the country, the joy of knowing that there would be no sudden power cut (barring all unforeseen circumstance). So i dashed down to Tesco one beautiful morning to grab muffins, a pack of 4 muffins cost £1.50 which is approximately N360. In Chocolat Royal, a coffee shop / pattiserrie of some sort in Lagos, one muffin... One muffin is 350 naira. i was about to go off on how I was being ripped off in Lagos. Why was I paying the price of 4 muffins, for 1 muffin? Then I remembered that Chocolat Royal had a huge power generating set which it left on for 20 hours in 24. Businesses provide power for themselves, this pushes up operating costs and in order to break even, they have to push up retail prices.. Hence, the end user is inadvertedly paying for the lacuna in the infrastructural development of this 'great' nation.. It's truly sad.
So Nepa went on strike for about 5 days, and a lot of people said they were blissfully unaware of NEPA's strike because they'd not had power or 'light' for weeks anyway, I was scared. I mean, we usually have light at night. It was a sad situation though, because it further demonstrated the fact that Nigeria is a failed State. What business does NEPA have going on strike????

Issue number2.... Nigeria's 50th Anniversary. Nigerians donned the cloak of patrioticism on the 1st of October. They told themselves they had something to celebrate. 50years of Independence from the British Colonial masters. The city was awash with what a friend of mine calles 'Massive DeyDererism' (Dey Dererism is the act of engaging in 'hand falling' behaviour. Loosely translated to mean self delusion). So my people went about on that day, wearing a touch og green and going about with hearty smiles and ready to slay those of us who didn't quite get in the groove of the 'festivities'. i wasn't the only one who was not quite happy. Apparently, millitants were also unhappy with the splurging in Abuja and decided to ensure they were heard. More than 8 lives were lost in explosions which disrupted the celebrations.
You see, I live in a country where there is truly no hope. I hear some of you already trying to close the page, you think I'm being a pessimist? Ok hold on a minute, think about the young people you see around you now in Nigeria. They are after all the 'future' right? They are the 'hope' which some of you see right?? How many young people are honest & hardworking? How many possess the integrity to stand for what they belive? How many people are willing to engage their brains and not be led by 'false prophets' and not allow themselves to be fed garbage?

I'll continue to urge everyone I know to brighten the corner where they are. Do your bit, don't drive like savages, have a little sense of integrity, be honest and hardworking. Be the change you want to see in Nigeria. It sounds like a cliche I know, but really, this country's problems are not going to go away at the rate we're going. We need a change of mentality.

I think I've made you guys sad enough... Lemme stop here. See you when next I'm able to shake off my block. :)

He'll 'Progam' Dem

2010-08-11T17:01:00.003+01:00

How do you write about someone who has a better way with words than you do? I wanna write about a young man who I honestly believe is a lyrical genius. I've written this article over and over... in my head offcourse and even now as I type I'm not sure i can adequately pass the message across. I lack the words to adequately describe this young man whose wit, humour, savvy and sarcasm caught my attention.

His name is Afolabi Durotoye. Some people know him as Beazy, I just think of him as a breath of fresh air in the cloudy world of music lyrics in Nigeria.

I read about Beazy for the first time in February 2010, I started following him on Twitter 'cos I noticed his comebacks were hilarious. I would read a tweet from Beazy and I would either start laughing crazily, or I'd have a goofy smile on my face.At other times, I'd read something so serious and so in your face "I -Don't-Care-What-You-Think-Of-Me" and I'd just go.. 'oh no.. this boy will get beaten because of Twitter ooo' but you see that's the thing about him.. He is a smart young man who's not afraid to speak the truth as it is.. no bullsh*tting!

With three (3) mixtapes released and over two hundred (200) songs recorded under his belt, i think it's safe to say Beazy is a rapper who knows what he has a passion for and is not afraid to make it work. He is consistent and hardworking. Beazy, eats, drinks and lives his music. He is constantly reinventing himself and is not afraid to take criticism. When you listen to something and you are tempted to place him in a box, you hear something else and say.."that's different!!!!"

I've listened to all 3 mixtapes an uncountable number of times and I can tell you, Afolabi's lyrics make a lot of sense and half the time I'm laughing 'cos I can just imagine what may have inspired some of those lyrics. Time and time again I try to tell myself I have a favorite track on each of the mixtapes and i have failed. Why? because on each mixtape, there is something different. Now this is not to say that he is an unfocused guy who lacks clarity in the quality of his work.. no.. this is clearly an evidence of versatility. His lyrics rhyme and make sense, this is not something we have seen too much of in recent times.

I wondered about how this guy was going to successfully break into the music industry in this country.. I mean if you know Nigerian music, you'd agree with me that we are being dished with a whole lot of crap.. words like "ginger, swagger, sanbaribobo, utunu,f,fff.jgkegfh dsam.fw" ( no that last one was not a typo.. that's my way of saying a hot load of crap) . I wondered, how long it would take him to break even, because while we all go to our day jobs and make money...music is a lot harder to convert into money..especially when you are new in the game. you see, the music 'business' is like oil prospecting, you have to invest a lot of money before you strike a commercially productive/ viable well. It's a lot of hard work and the reason why we have a lot of crappy music out there is primarily because a lot of people think that music is a shortcut to success.. I mean.. you flunking at school? No problem go and sing or go and rap!!! I mean, how else can we explain having so much crap out there?

I respect artistes who make sense, because for me, music is not just about the beat and the hype, it must have meaning, inspire or at least make me laugh.. brighten my mood
I believe that not to long from now, Beazy will become a personification of Good Music that comes out of Nigeria. I also believe that he will be smiling to the bank in due course.. because in the words of Oladele "Music na work o, no be joke oh, my pikin go wear clot, den go go school.. so spray me money".

"Beazy can not only hold his own, but is out to get theirs as well" so I will confidently say in that time.. that "I backed the winning horse" He'll 'program' dem

He has a standard bio online what i'd like to call his "Afolabi Durotoye, born in Jos to Akin and Abake Durotoye bio) so if you'd like to read about him just Google Afolabi 'Beazy' Durotoye.

Truly Madly Deeply in Love

2010-08-09T09:44:00.003+01:00

I stared into his eyes, and all I could see was the depth of what he felt for me.I reached out to touch his face, the roughness of the day's worth of hair on felt good to touch. Just knowing he was here, and he was mine was enough to make me smile. I leaned into him to kiss him, and just when I thought I could not love him more, he said "U bring me joy babes" There was a catching in my breath before i planted my lips soundly on his. It was like i drew all the strenght i needed from holding him.

We walked to his car, and he opened the door for me, I smiled as I got in.. my boo, ever the curteous man. Unlike most Nigerian men who took you for granted, he always opened the door for me, held out my seat, and hauled all the heavy things.As we drove to my brother's home for sunday lunch, i turned on the radio.. news of the Hatian Election and Wyclef's attempt to rule the nation flooded our car. I said.. "na wa oh.. Actors and musicians sha believe they can do this governance thing". I threw my hands up in mock exasperation,the love of my life smiled at me and said.."Ronke, u need to think outside the box" He proceeed to explain the intrigues of politics in relation to poverty ridden countries. I stared in marvel at how God could have blessed lil' ol' me with a man so intellectually stimulating and caring enough to break down the nitty gritty of every topic to me. Beside him, i felt i could take on the world. I smiled and gazed out of the window... the sun was bright, the sky was blue and the world just looked good.

****SPLASH OF COLD WATER******

Wake up!!!!!!

Oh guys, did i get ur juices rolling there? aww.. pele.. yours and mine as well! You see I've been wondering how it would feel to be truly madly deeply in love. As i typed the above I kept saying.. "Ah Ronke.. see this dodoyo picture youa re painting" lol .. I've become such a cynic that even picturing myself so 'mumu-ically' in love is hard! lol lol! Offcourse the part where I'm leaning in and kissing the hot intelligient boy doesnt seem so far off.. but all that he gazed into my eyes and he opened the door bit...**shaking my head*** nkn nkn...Even I cant picture it.

So what exactly is wrong with me? seriously guys.. I want to fall in love before it becomes too late oh! I'm becoming more and more hopeless at these love matters by the day! It seems the only people i'm capable of loving are my family members and my friends....I mean, when will I fall in love with that boy that will make me go "oohh ahh" you know what I mean?

**sigh**

Seriously, I need help! I meet people everyday and I think, yeah nice but I don't just see it happening. I don't imagine that click.. or is that click...only in movies?
The scariest part for me is.. i don't wanna be so jaded i start infecting people who are truly in love (choke**)with my Miss Grinch behaviour.. you know? How someone tells me they met this really awesome guy and I go .. "ehn.. does he have a job? i hope he's not with u because u have a blue passpprt oh, ah.. " why can;t i just let people in love be? i mean i don't actually say it to them .. but i *yimu* ( I don't know what yimu is in English.. ok maybe it means shrug.. ok not shrug..shrug is done with ur shoulders... yimu is done with ur nose, u know that thing u do when u twitch ur nose? ehen..)

I wanna fall in love soon.. with a boy/man/guy offcourse! and i wanna do it soon!

But said man must be intellectually stimulating oh! abeg.. oh and did i mention he must be HAWT as well? see i'm not asking for too much u see.
I have not gone on and on about wealth, house, car.. Just be smart.. funny and goodlooking.. those three things will oil the wheels of this my falling in love business!

So, dude.. do quick and come.. let's make that my fantasy/dream a reality?
ok?

Have a good week people!

Bar Finals 170808

2010-08-04T10:03:00.000+01:00

My soul is awash
The flood of reality covers me
Im drowning at the thought of being swamped by all this work

In my sleep, the magnitude of it all plagues me,
turbulence in my dreams because of what i left behind in my wakeful world
I see Procedures at night, Rules during the day,
Laws at noon and Orders at dusk

It feels like the only thing i live for
Seven days of fighting a battle which the Sovereign has told me I've won
Yet, the war must be fought and i must be named Victor

This war, this battle, this albatross
It is called THE BAR FINALS
And i am Victoria
The queen of excellence

The title is self explanatory

Broke 180708

2010-08-04T10:00:00.001+01:00

I feel as though im such a burden
I have to depend on someone else for sustainance
Every quirk gets to me
Is it because they feed me,
Is it because i lack the freedom to pick and choose
Or am i just being hormonal?
Do these little things not mean the things i think they mean?

Im so depressed, I just dont want to do anything
But i can write
I take solace in the keyboard
I can speak about my feelings and not be reproached.
I can express freely the fact that i hate the fact that i am broke
without sounding like a nag

The weightlessness of my wallet is really getting to me,
The burden of the thought is much more than i can bear
It's making me rememeber things i should ordniarily discountenance
If i were not broke, I would have gone the whole nine yards for her
Is it because things are this way that i have to wait till he is ready?

If i can only get to the cash dispenser,
If i can get a whiff of crisp notes
I'm sure it would go a long way in helping my disposition
Because this state of things is not the way things should be
Broke Broken Brokenness....
Im going to get through this, I know i will
I know i must

I wrote this in Law school as well... I was extremely broke... no cash, no expectation of cash from anywhere. But I had awesome friends... they fed me, the encouraged me, they got me through. So here goes... another blast from the past.

Heartstrings 03.08.08

2010-08-04T09:54:00.002+01:00

My Breasts hurt from the need to be suckled
I am in so much pain from inside
it's hard to distinguish which hurts more
The fact that we are not together
or the fact that we have to be apart
I yearn for when we will be together
My dear Son
My child
The product of my womb
The strings of my heart,
not tugging, but yanking real hard
Im hurting so badly
I need u to be nestled in my arms
I need to know that you are safe
The time we have spent together
So short, so valuable, so cherished
It seems like all i can think of is when i can be with u
When will i hold u in my arms my beloved son
I need u, because being away from u hurts
the lacerations i have physically
they are numb compared to the pain i feel inside
Can i shout, Can i scream?
From the injustice of it all
Why do i have to be torn away from my Son
Who was there when i carried him
longer than term, the time shared
The comfort of knowing u were safe within me
If i could I would...
Keep u safe, Safe my love
Safe from the world
Safe from those who tear us apart now

I wrote this in 2008, my friend had just had a baby and had to come to come write her Bar finals. Her husband and her sisters-in-law did not allow her bring her baby! She was extremely miserable and she cried all the time. I felt the burden to write.. and that's what I did... I wrote!

Circle Of Life

2010-08-03T17:33:00.002+01:00

Good people, I want to blog. Seriously, I need to write. I feel deprived. My fingers feel betrayed. I have refused to do something I totally enjoy doing... writing.
I have had a lot of "profound moments" lost 'cos i was not near my computer or sometimes, I wanna whine but I'm just so engrossed in the weight of my feelings that I can't seem to find my blog mojo. However, as I started typing this today, I have nothing in particular I wanna write about, but you see i've found that all I need to do is start typing, it'll come to me. I hope it comes soon oh, before i bore y'all!

I became an aunty AGAIN on friday.. Well Friday in Los Angeles, actually 1 am Saturday in Lagos. I'm pretty excited actually, cos this is my first niece. Well my first biological niece 'cos i call my cousin's daughter my niece too)...So she's kinda special. I may not see my niece till October though, 'cos she's in America and may not come to Lagos till September! which seems like eons away right now! You can imagine my excitement. My mum says she looks like my brother, I've seen pictures which show that she looks like a baby.. you know.. all babies look alike to me. I don't really get when people see day-old babies and go.. "oh she looks like her daddy, or she looks like her mummy"... I don't see what they see.. but then I'm short sighted so hey.. blame my poor vision. however, I wanna hold her in my arms, I wanna kiss her, I wanna love her, I wanna hear her cry, I wanna tell her how much I love her.. yes.. i wanna whisper little nothings into her ears... **sigh** I could go on and on really!!So you all get my point shebi? I have a niece, I've not seen her, I wanna love her to pieces, I'm constrained to do same! End of Discussion

This year has been rough for my family oh! In seven months, we have been through hell and back, my brother passed on in March. It rocked us badly.. as in... Seriously. He had this really horrible accident and we were all caught unawares, you know, when you are smooth sailing ans all of a sudden you hit a rock... and bam!!! ur cozy boat capsizes.. it was a shock. You know one of those things life never really prepares you for? I think of my brother EVERY day. I don't cry as much now. The amazing thing about the tragedy that befell us is this, we are so much closer now. It's amazing. It's as if we all got born-AGAIN on the 22nd of March, like we saw ourselves in a whole new light. We however, did not contemplate that we would find this place of love without Sage(that's what we called him). I mean, you should have seen my family before my brother went to meet the Lord, my dad and I were always at lugger heads.. Sage was in a world of his own... thinking we did not like his wife, my mum was always running in circles trying to play mediator between us and her husband.. it was just a war zone... I mean, we loved each other but we all had our pride and our Taiwo sturboness. We were all in a world of our own, but God had his own plans, HE was just looking at us and saying.. see this spoilt people oo.. I have given them all this love, brightness, wealth, comfort.. and see what they are still doing.. fighting and bickering abi? #Slam... tragedy and then more tragedy. It was sad, and it is still a trying period, but we have learnt that we can only do this walk of life with God and with each other. No one has learnt that lesson better than us.

So i go around now preaching the gospel of Love oh.. are u quarelling with anyone? go and make up sharp sharp... are u being sturbon? is your pride standing in the way of love? Let it go mehn..' cos you don't know when life can be cut short.

Love life, listen to good music, appreciate the beautiful things in life, like little babies and family. Look up in the sky and appreciate the darkening clouds, cos after the rains, will definately come the sunshine.

The circle of life... it happens to everyone of us... Life and Death.. happens to us all. It's what we do with it that matters!

Peace Out y'all!!!

** wink**

Money Money Money

2010-07-01T12:12:00.004+01:00

Once again, I'm here to try and write my way out of this messy place that is my mind. I think I have a lot of spare time and thus, my mind goes into an overdrive. For instance, I've taken to fantasizing about a veryyy hot and intellectually stimulating young man that i recently met.. as in trust me guys.. the guy is verry HAWT!!! **sigh** there i go digressing again!

So as i was saying, so in the quagmire of my mind, one thing is recurrent in my musings..Money Money Money.. known as 'cheese' , 'cheddah' 'kudi' 'owo' or as they sy in 2010 'Paper'..

Money they say, makes the world go round.The lack or paucity of it however, makes people sad.. well me sha... makes ME sad! When I'm broke i'm like really sad. You'd think something was wrong with me! I find it hard to see the other beautiful things of the world like oh the lovely sky or the beauty of the rainbow or gee how bright the moon is in the sky tonight... nahh not me! When I'm broke I'm sad!
I'd like to be wealthy, (you and me both i can hear you say) but then... what do you do to actually make money?

A friend of mine recently left her lucrative law practice for the 'esteemed' Bench. Unfortunately, the magistrates have been on strike for over three months now and my friend has not been paid. She has slowly been eating into her savings and she's getting to the end of her rope! She sent me a text on monday expressing how miserable she was and what she should do..I was sad, cos I had no way of helping.. What do you say to someone who wants to work but her workforce mates are on strike, thus she doesn't get paid. I could not tell her to get another job 'cos, hey the jobs are not strewn out there on the streets waiting for who'd pick them up now are they? I've been thinking on how to help my friend and then guess what I read online? Tiger Woods's ex wife get's awarded $500m in the suit against her ex husband!!!!!

WHATTT?????

I thought, gee, all we need now is for my friend 'D' to go and marry one wealthy athlete nau....(lol.. forgive my spelling... it's inspired by Twitter)

It's easy to get disgusted at the cheating and promiscuos ways of Tiger ( I'm assuming y'all know what he did right? or was caught doing!!!)But hey... Elin or Erin .. (what's her name??)is making a killing off this fiasco don't you guys think? I mean, I lose a man, (**cough cough** the love of my life) and all of a sudden I feel the insane need to milk him dry? I don't see her crying over the loss of a marriageor a partner.,. I see her smiling to the bank with a whole lot of Paper!!!!!! The lawyers are going to be sooo frigging happy right now, I mean some lawyers in this matter are going to be planning their holidays in grandstyle right now! imagine the percentages..whoa!

Anyway, I'm losing focus... It's all about the money isn't it?

So how do we make money, our parents teach us that it's more honourable to make money through hardwork, diligence and prayer.. but I look around me and I see so much wealth I keep stopping to ask.. 'ahn ahn.. 25 year old, duplex in lekki.. how come?' then i get nudged and told ' his dad is blah blah, so and so..' I'm begining to think my parents were not so truthful to me.. 'cos I see alot of wealth around me and I see soooo much poverty around me as well! and these people that are poor are hardworking oh... they are dilligent in their hardwork and trust me that have faith that can move mountains!! ** sigh** so what is going on?

I really need money, I work hard ( or so i think) , I have a thirst for the finer things of life that just wont go away.. a new car, jewelry that can blind you, a lovely home, and all the glitterati that comes with money na!!

I want I want I want... but in the mean time, since I don't have it. I can go back to fantasizing about HAWT intelligient boy.. NO?

:D YES!!!

The good book also says that the Love of money is the root of money.. ( err... *glancing around to see if no one's watching** but i want me some tho')

Footprints in the Sand

2010-06-24T11:52:00.004+01:00

As she sat in the waiting room of Berkelyside Memorial Hospital, the thoughts that flooded her head were bizarre and far from organized. She wondered, pondered and considered why she did not just jump off the sofa and make the fastest dash to her car.
However against her present innate instinct, she tried to steady her shaky hands. Somehow she did not believe that fate could be this cruel to her, not after all she had been through, she did not want to have to deal with medical issues.

Lara Onweagba… at least that is what she had been for the last 3 years of hr life had grown accustomed to pain and suffering, at least the emotional variant of it. The superficial lifestyle of covering it all up beneath a smile and a warm hug here and there had become her strong forte; and even though she was not one who would run away from what she was feeling, she kept it carefully concealed. However, when it became unbearable, when she was alone she would soak herself in the misery of what her life had slowly and sadly become.

She stared at the painting on the wall. It was a landscape of an area in Lagos. The burst of the colors employed depicted the brightness of the artist and she got up to get a closer look at the name of the artist. ‘Graham-Douglas’. It was written in that lazy scrawl of his. Somehow she should have guessed that the use of the rues in that painting were consistent with Luke’s work and the lively way he attended to his subjects that gave the observer an insight into his personality and his emotions at the time of creating the work. Lara looked at the date on the painting, March 2004. That was the month after she had moved back to Nigeria, it was the month after he proposed to her.

For a second there she was translated to another time and another place, where she was happy and bright. A time when everything seemed beautiful and she could swear that the world was a much better place to be than now. She glanced at her watch, her appointment was for 2pm but she had arrived here an hour earlier. The anxiety in her heart did not allow her sit still. She needed to get here and receive the doctor’s verdict on her scans.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Luke slashed away angrily at the canvass, he was working on a mix of dark colors. The picture he was working on had yet to be formed clearly in his mind but he needed to do something to keep him from going insane. Luke always found solace in his work and right He stared blankly at the wall behind the canvass for some odd reason, seeking inspiration from nothingness. He felt like Vladimir from one of those books he had read in his teenage years. “Waiting for Godot”
Caught up in the vortex of what he constantly called his failures he felt lost.

A month ago, his long estranged brother was involved in a freak accident. A freak accident indeed for there was no better word to describe how a generator would explode for no reason after being turned on with no previous history of malfunction. Lance Graham Douglas was at the moment lying in the intensive care unit of Abercrombie Infirmary in Victoria Island. The doctors kept telling Luke to be hopeful even though the prognosis was bad.

All he could think of was the last time he spoke to Lance and the strong and virulent words that had passed between them. Lance could not wrap his head around why his brother left their home in America, where he had his work displayed in every major art gallery in the East Coast. Luke felt it was none of Lance’s business where he chose to run his business after all if Lance could live successfully and happily here in Nigeria so could he.
Luke cursed under his breath “damn u Lance for being a ‘know-it-all’”, because somewhere in his heart he felt that his brother might have been right all along.
Even though they were twins, Lance had always felt responsible for his brother. Luke on the other hand, felt he was his own man and could make his own decisions, Lone Ranger style.
He was not making any progress with what he was working on at the moment anyway. The work looked dark and moody and was not a reflection of who he truly was. Sighing he walked toward the window and then his phone buzzed. He glared at it in anger, not much good news comes through the phone these days.
____________________________________________________________________________________

The woman sitting under the tree in front of her house was a constant nuisance, she had tried and failed to displace her and now was not the time to get into that argument. She left her hand on the buzzer at the gate and hoped to the heavens that Effiong was not off on a frolic of his own. With an upraised fist, about to pound on the fist the gate cracked open. “Welcome madam” She gave him a once over and stumped up the stairs towards the front porch.

“Seun” She yelled as she opened the door to the kitchen. The buzzing in her head increased, almost sensing that she was near food. Unable to decipher if the hunger was from anxiety or from the fact that she had not eaten all day, she opened the fridge and grabbed an apple. Where was everybody? She’d come here thinking she would be able to talk to her daughter before the news broke. With kids and the internet generation, one could not be sure what they heard and from where!

'Yes mommy' Her daughter had a frown on her face but Anke could not really be bothered. Giving her a once over she smiled 'no hugs? I don't get a hug'? Her eight year old daughter was the most adorable creature ever, and even when she was scowling she was just so pretty! Seun huddled across the living room to where her mother was standing and gave her a hug! "Mum, I was working on my notes, my recital is on saturday and i need it to be perfect. Mr Lambert says I need to work on my lines" Anke rolled her eyes and marvelled about the passion with which her daugher spoke about her violin and the school ochestra! "Sweetie, mommy needs to talk to you about something very important,and I need you to sit down ok?"

Cautiously, Seun sat down near her mom, and looked in her face. Dear God, give me strength to do this 'cos You know i don't deserve this angelic child...

Taking in a deep breath, she started telling Seun how they came to live in Abuja. A story that was long over due and had now become extremely neccesary!

(To Be Continued)

Why do we have to get married?

2010-05-29T22:17:00.007+01:00

This post was inspired by someone I follow on Twitter.

Recently, my friend 'diagnosed' me of being anti-relationships, anti-marriage , she said it was partly because i was afraid (her words not mine). I guess to an extent I am guilty of taking one side of the marriage story and saying 'mehn, i'm not down for all this ooo'.

I have openly told my friends that a lot of us women get married because they keep saying ' you've finished school.. what is next' You know the way people always asked ' so what Uni are you off to' when they see you at home after Secondary School. So marriage always appears to be the NEXT major thing.If they don't ask you, they ask your parents, your parents subtly ask you ' that guy that keeps coming here nko, is he not saying anything?'A lot of us get married because we just need to move out of our houses, I mean, you are tired of your room, you are tired of your parents shouting 'Aderonkeeeeeee'from downstairs when you just wanna lie in! So what do we do, we clamour for a marriage proposal. We believe that surely we can do better! I asked a lady who came to live in our BQ why she married her husband? and she said ' I had finished school now, what else was left'I was shocked at her reason! You MARRIED a person.. tied yourself to a man because it was the 'NEXT' thing to do? **GASP*** This chic and her boo were living in our BQ, (FOC) dude did not have a place.. and no they were not pregnant..they just felt it was right! I complained to my mum and she said.. there is nothing wrong with it.. "Do u know where ur daddy and I started from?"

I have been making an effort to stop thinking like that, I have started trying to see things positively, I want to believe that marriage is not just a place I want to get in so that I can have uninhibited sex without the fear of the hand of God striking me! and then guess what happens.. I read this on twitter.. I shall copy and paste it here :

"ok here goes... As far as a marriage is concerned, what's really in it for men? i mean, what do women really do in the 21st century marriage? cook? no... there's a cook 4 dat. clean? no... there's a maid 4 dat. provide money? again no! there's me for that. and God forbid that they take care of their own children cuz what then would the nanny do? most of the households i see 2day r like this. it's a damned shame really. dont get me wrong, guys are pricks too. and i guess women have just evolved to match our err... prickiness. lol. basically, with marriage, the rules of engagement have changed. if i was born 50 years ago, then i'd be all for marriage. but now? no tainks cuz now, i'd be marrying an independent woman who depends on me... Go figure. (O_o) that's all folks. like i said earlier, it might not make the most sense but bear with me. :))"

And that is the view of marriage from the lens of one person! I believe a lot of men share that perspective!
So why do people still come around and ask, ' so how far now... mr Right nko?' who is Mr Right and who is this Miss Right they all keep going on about? I said 'who' and not 'where' because I honestly don't believe that person is anywhere on the surface of this earth! The society has evolved, a lot of women work now, and they earn an income, a lot of women are more independent financially but society needs them to be in this box called marriage. I know a lot of women who say why should they go to work and come back and start sweating in the kitchen, or is it after such a stressful day at work that they want to come and start taking care of a whiny baby? or cleaning the house? The money they make can do all that for them NO?

Society is not structured the way it used to be, things and people have evolved...so why can this issue of marriage not evolve?

I however believe that there is a lady somewhere out there ( albeit remotely out there) who is willing to cook, clean, nurse the babies, and not be clingy! I also believe there is a man out there who will not beat me, not take my money and thereafter jack me for sex (my worse fear BTW), know how to drive, be able to raise my kids with me, and will love God (like i said.. he's somewhere out there lol)but in the mean time.... can someone please free the single people from the pressure of marriage?

Please! Let's be allowed to make the best of our lives without being made to feel like we are missing out on one super duper thing and our lives are incomplete without it.

(p.s I'm the product of a 40 year old marriage so NO I'm not from a dysfunctional home)

Celebrating Our Parents

2010-05-27T23:12:00.002+01:00

Today is children's day in Nigeria. I do not know if it is a worldwide celebration but is and has always been in Nigeria. May 27. Children's day.
It's a day where kids stay at home, or get taken out. A day to celebrate children in general.

Today as my colleague and I drove to work we spoke of parents, and how much they actually give up for their kids. We never actually reallly think about it.

I earn an income now and right now, I can't begin to imagine having to share that income with anyone else, not to talk of some kids who will keep coming to ask for more. I do not remember anytime growing up when I asked my parents for books, clothes,that i never got it. and I always asked for more! I remember inflating the prices of books because I knew my dad would always question other non-academic things and I would justify my thievery ( yes was i not a little thief?lol) by saying well if u dont give me money for joker jellies i would remove it from the money of books!but my point is, everytime I asked, I always got. He never asked me to wait till month end. Flash forward to the present.. me.. Aderonke.. omo if you want anything from me you need to allow me plan for it oh! what do you think I am a bank? even my time.. you need to let me plan ahead for it.

I remember when I finished secondary school, and the time came for me to go to Uni... I wanted to take the A-Levels.. scratch that... I took every exam under the sun to ensure I got into a higher institution anywhere in the world. So here i was planning to study for cambridge A-Levels. That was a big deal for me because most of my classmates were doing IJMB ( the #abaversion of Cambridge A-levels lol)so I really needed to pass right? I needed to do very well so I could go to school in England. I had no idea where my parents were gonna get the funds, but hey.. I was going to do my part. I went to a 'cheap' A-Levels tutorial class which cost over a 150k, then excluding books and the cost of registering for the exams.I promised my parents that they would not regret shelling out the funds, but guess what i did? I flunked. Infact i flunked soo bad...but hey.. i got an 'E' in English.. I flunked so bad i cried as if i was going to die. How was I going to face my parents with this olodo result? how was i going to justify the spending of such an amount on a child who would not even pass. I remember going to tell my mum. I walked into her office, eyes red, face swollen.. i had cried like there was no tomorrow.. I told her i had "E, E, O" and guess what she said...'So Ronke, what do u want to do now, do u wanna write it again? or would u rather wait for JAMB?" In that moment, i could not love my mother more! I thought I was going to be killed. and then she said.." we have to go and check out Oxbridge if you want to do it again" Now Oxbridge was the best Alevels tutorial College in Lagos at that time ( D-Ivy people wey dey read make una no vex.. but Oxbridge was the best! hehehe) it was also the most expensive. You can imagine my shock, I had just failed and these peopel were willing to sink in 3 times the money they had paid earlier on.. I really could not have loved them more. I had to strive soo much harder to do them proud.. and yes I passed ( B, C,E I shoulda gotten a 'B' in English Literature instead of the 'C' but the A/c in Otunba Jobi Fele hall was soo cool i slept for more than 20 mins in the exam hall .. gist for another day).
My point is, parents are acually a gift and parenting is hard hard hard work. It's very easy to get carried away with your own life, your waka, your work and your ways and not give a rats a$$ about one child who just wants to faff about.

A lot of folks on twitter have been putting up their childhood memories and alot of them involve how their parents smacked the living day lights out of them, or taught them something , or gave them something.. Parents rock!

Have u seen a mother who is unable to provide her child with something? she would fight tooth and nail to get that thing for her child, an education, money, a better life style.. anything and what do we do?
sometimes we kick back at them, sometimes we tell them we hate them, sometimes we ask why we were ever born to them or why we were adopted, sometimes we hurt them so bad and we never even look back.
When my parents lost their son, I watched them in a state of shock, I was grieving but I could not even begin to imagine where they were, what they felt in that instant.. to lose a son? mind blowing!

Parenting is hard work and I think parents should be celebrated. Everyone can be a child, but not everyone can be a parent, an awesome parent.

So today, the 27th of May 2010, I chose to celebrate parents.. their sacrifice, their love, their patience, their money, their attention, devotion, loyalty and perseverance.

I celebrate my parents and I pray to God I'm half as good as they were, I pray that my children would be able to celebrate me, my principles and what I stand for.

Happy Parent's Day

The power of the hash tag (#)

2010-05-20T17:58:00.003+01:00

I recently joined Twitter, which in my opinion has become my number one source of news and amebo! I heard of Yaradua's demise on Twitter, I heard that Chelsea FC scored 8 goals to clinch the English Premiership title. Twitter is a very informative avenue, my new addiction.
The hash tag (#) is used on twitter to depict a topic or a trend. The hash tag is usually employed when twitting in drawing the attention of your 'follower' to the subject. It has proven to be a very useful tool in twitter with respect to catching one's attention.

However, the hash tag can only go so far. Last week I read something on Twitter, 'Singing about the problem does not solve the problem' ( not verbatim). The hash tag can only go so far. #lightupnigeria, #enoughisenough are laudable moves by young people who have had enough and believe that something needs to be done about this crazy place we live in.(effective word being 'done').
We have gotten so used to living with the situation that we have been lulled into a false sense of inertia (is that the right word). It is as a result of this that these young people have decided to stand up to what is right and what is good. The #enoughisenough movement was very laudable and though I did not participate, I appreciate the fact that people left the comfort of their homes, offices and marched both in Lagos and Abuja. However, I believe the hash tag can only go so far, infact, the hash tag is almost powerless.

Last week, I finally got around to watching the first episode of BBC's documentary Welcome to Lagos. It show cased the lifestyle of people living on a dump site in Lagos. They live and work on the dumpsite. A friend of mine came to my house and saw it and went off on a rant about how this 'oyibo' people will not go and do a documentary on Brixton and Peckham and leave us alone. I felt sad in that instant because I realise that a lot of Nigerians would believe that and say that, because unfortunately I disagree. I do not believe that anything in that documentary was exaggerated. It is simply the reality of Nigeria, and trust me, there are more of those people, more of people that have to go through that every single day than those of us on Twitter and using the hash tag. The presumption is that you're on twitter because you are 1. Basically educated enough to make your way around a social app; 2. you have a computer, internet and power supply; and or 3, you own a Smartphone of some sort which enables you have access to the internet.

There's poverty of immmense proportion in this country and it's just so sad. It's very sad and the hash tag cannot solve the problem. Singing about it and tweeting about it wont take it away.

So what WILL take it away? doing your bit. A little at time, help the person you know who can barely get by. A lot of people hardly have enough to feed, no where to sleep not to talk to expanding on their dreams. We have a lot of options available to us and there are a lot of folks out there who have nothing.Funmi Iyanda and TY Bello have Link-a-child Project and they are making a difference. The gap between the haves and the have nots needs to be bridged and its PEOPLE who care and who are willing to make a difference, not by talking, not by singing and definitely not by tweeting. By taking a positive step in the right direction. There are a whole LOT of people who are living below the poverty line. We need to help them out of the little we have. We can make a difference through wealth distribution.Please don't say you are not the one who spoilt Nigeria, don't say you are cleaner or better than those people who live on Kuramo Beach or who work the dumpsites. Just make a difference, no matter where you find yourself.
Believe me, that 500naira you are about to use to buy a gossip magazine, a softsell, is enough to buy milk for a little baby somewhere in Makoko.

Today

2010-05-04T14:15:00.002+01:00

Today I take my first step
into the future and into life
I'm growing, excitedly

Today I met my bride
I know she is
'Cos I feel it deep within

Today I held my son
Bright eyes and a wide smile
Glimmer of what the future holds

Today my son moves out
For he is old enough to,
Making a life for himself

Today I buried my son
My heart is heavy
He was vibrant and youthful

Today I changed my will
For all I hoped and planned is not
But I have tommorow or so I think

Today is all I have
Today, not tommorow
Just today

We lost him

2010-04-01T15:14:00.001+01:00

I was going to blog about something entirely different 2 weeks ago. I was going to blog about how love was actually the strongest tie that binds. I was going to go on and on about how parental love and sibling love was so strong and nothing could match it. I was going to tell you all about my brother's accident, the explosion of the generator and how he sprinted through the fire to go get his wife and kids out. I was going to blog about how brave my brother was in doing what he did. I was going to tell you how I was never going to go a day without telling any of my siblings how much I loved them and how I was going to sheath my sword of quarell with my dad.
This is what I was going to do before Monday the 22nd of March when my sister called me and said to me "We Lost Him".

I don't know how I feel at the moment, though I must tell you everyone asks me.. " How are you doing?" and I answer "I'm fine"

I'm not fine. Will I ever be fine? fine as i knew it? maybe not really, but God is my strength not so?

I have learnt a lot of things from everything that has happened. God has been speaking to me through different means, you wont believe that I listened to a Sunny Ade or was it 'Obey' song today and there was something for me there.

No one has the words to console me, not one person in this world can do it for me.
I've been in a trance, I come out once in a while, almost as if he's not dead. I do normal things, I clean, I cook and I play, and then I remember and this dark cloud of grief settles on my heart.
I find however, that when I think of God I feel the burden lift. I do not want to over spiritualise my blog but there is really no friend like God. He holds my hand as I fall asleep. He keeps re-assuring me that my brother is with him. I'm telling you, that stuff about God being the great comforter is real oh! Don't let anyone deceive you.
As I walked out of Vaults and Gardens ( the internment site) I kept chanting like a mantra " Oluwa ki se'bi.. ire lo'n se" ( God does not do evil.. he does good) I kid you not, God has been faithful too me in this my short life that I can not turn on Him at this time of sorrow and say He has done a bad thing to me. As i grieve, try though I may to be strong, it is only God that gives me the grace to get through the day without breaking down.
At the hospital, the cord of love that was between my brother and I could not have been stronger. I needed at all times to let him know that I loved him and even though I could not hug him cos of the severity of his burns, I told him, from my heart to yours.. I love you. He said, I love you too..very much.
I remember those words as clear as day. And even though I did not think he would die, I did not think that the last time I would see him alive was when he asked me to pull the blanket up to his neck and shield him from the cold.. I remember those words, I love you.. and I felt it. I knew in that minute that nothing could be stronger than the cords of love.
The love we as humans have for each other is but a microcosm of what God has for us. Imagine when God says to us, neither death nor life can separate us from the love of God. In essence, he's saying to me, even though I've brought your brother to rest with me, even though you wont grow old with him, I love you. So here I am, with the love of my brother before he died, and the love of God.

I have my low moments, I have times when I wish I had spent more time with my brother. There are times when I think about all the things he said to me in the 5 days we spent at the hospital. I think of his bright smile, I think of his humour, how he laughed at the blackness of his burnt face, how he made fun of the hospital.
I think of the sharpness of his brain and the acuity of his mind. And most of all, I can't help but think that Deji died a hero. He literally went through the fire for his family.
And that my friends, is what love is about.

Date Rape

2010-03-13T20:32:00.001+01:00

First of all, I need to understand the concept of 'hanging-out' .. Seriously, how is going to a bar, club, with no lights and lots of noise, people milling around a form of relaxation after a busy day at work? How?
So last night, I went out with a guy I'd been speaking to on the phone but had never met, we were supposed to hook up last night after work. Being the wet blanket that I am, my friends and colleagues challenged me to go, and do something besides lying on my bed and watching 'Greys Anatomy' and 'Brothers & Sisters' (which by the way is my ideal idea of fun... sue me!!!)
So last night, I went out with ... let's call him 'Callistus' ( lol.. he's Ibo by the way so in a round about sort of way that name is apt ne pas?) Anyway, I digress! So Callistus and I went to a bar somewhere on the Island. I was very conscious of the fact that I live on the mainland, I do not have a car and they lock the gate to my street at 10pm.. did i mention that i was very tired? ok well, Callistus lives on the Mainland too so I figured he'd drop me off. Well, we left the bar at 2 am in the morning ( and yes, i was sitting down and just waiting for the hours to go so I could go home and sleep)

So, we left and I could not go home, so i ended up sleeping over at Callistus'.. this was fine up untill 5 am this morning when he decided he wanted a lil' som'n som'n. So was I ready to put out for Callistus? Hell to the Nizzle ( as my colleague IB would say!) I mean, dude, i literally just met you, how would you think I was gonna say 'hey baby.. hump on'
It brought my mind back to when I was in Uni, and when my friends were going out, my first fear would always be 'where would sleep?'.. since Unilag gate closes at midnight but my friends always said.. oh they'd sleep in the house of whomever took them out. Times when I followed however, i found that the patron would always try to get a load of the goods.. and i actually thought it had something to do with my huge mammaries.. I realise today that my friends lied... all that time they lied.. cos Callistus took it for granted that I was gonna get into a bump and grind with him. Then he asked me this retarded question.."are u a virgin?" Dude... do I have to be a virgin to know I dont wanna sleep with you? I mean, everytime a guy assumes I'm a virgin cos I dont wanna do it with him. Mister man, has it occured to you that I just don't wanna screw you? I mean, can a girl not have choices?
So, 2 lessons learnt.. none of that 'hanging out' things, If my friends like, let them say I'm single because I dont go out.. na them sabi.. if they like, they should say it's McDreamy that will come and marry me from inside the TV.. na dem sabi.. no more of this hanging out business... I said 2 lessons right? secondly, never go home with a guy you are not ready to put it out for, it does not matter if he is a goody two-shoes, as long as he's got a penis, then stay the hell away from his home if you do not intend to do him.

Date Rape

I don't know how much of what happend I should share, but I need to get it out there. I need to let people understand the concept of Date Rape. I feel that the more people know, the more educated we would be.
I feel people are less sympathetic to the issue of rape when it seems you've been on a date with the rapist!
I always said that if I ever found myself in a situation where I was about to be raped, I'd say to the rapist, 'oya look, im not struggling. just do what you want to do.. and don't hurt me' However, faced with the same situation with the man I went on a date with last night I could not say that, I was scared,and too repulsed to even say anything like that.. I could not even imagine it. I struggled and writhed and screamed and nothing happend. I was pinned down by the weight of his body and his hands held mine down. With his teeth, he scratched and bit me... I struggled, I was scared.. I kept playing back the events of the night before and asking.. 'ye.. see wetin the words of people don do u oo...' and if u tell them now oo.. they will sya 'ehen, why did u go na' it just felt so wrong so unfair.. and all the while, he kept saying... "why are u behaving like a 15 year-old! Ah... It was horrible. I was badly bruised. He was unable to get into my VJay-jay, but he kept knocking around because I was writhing and struggling. I am bruised, abused and violated.

Who do I report a date rape to? As he drove me home, I said to him, you violated me, my trust and everything and he said.. listen to this please...' why na.. why would you say that' Dude.. raped me as far as i was concerned, but am I a part of the complicity? I don't know.
Am I going to go out with anyone anytime soon?

Hell to the Nizzle!!!!

The Death of Language

2010-03-09T15:07:00.000+01:00

Hey people, I was looking around twitter and I saw a link about Winnie Mandela and her grouse with the Madiba. I decided to go read what she was on about and ran into the comments section..lo and behold this is what hit me

MBEBE MISHACK wrote :
WE AS SOUTH AFRICANS DNT WANT TO KNW WAT HAPPENED TO WINNIE AND MANDELA DURING THEIR MARRIEGE IF WINNIE HAS SOME GRAGIES WTH DAT OR SHE FEELS JOLOUS ABOUT THE GENOROCITY OF MADIBA SHE RADA APPEAL FOR LOVE BACK OR MARRIEGE BACK NOT TO BETRAY OUR BELOVEST MAN IN SA AND IN THE WORLD........................PLEACE WINNIE WE LOVE THE MAN WE EVEN LOVE YOU TOO.............."

I was gasping for air when I finished reading.. I mean.. dudette could not even spell 'Please'? ( why did i just assume the writer was a woman?) ok i stand corrected dude(tte).. was just wrong in every sentence right there. I just had to come and post this on my blog.
I think the English Language has fallen so badly, people don't even bother to speak the proper thing any more. I am guilty of the same sin. Some days ago, I asked my brother this question ' is she sleeping at yours?' my brother was quick to ask me.. 'what's that nonsense you people say these days? what is 'yours'? 'I felt really stupid. I was joining the crowd, speaking 2010-ese ( for lack of a better word) I pride myself in being able to speak properly, but I notice that I am sliding that the slippery slope of 'anything goes' into the murky waters of complacense(sp)?

People, let's speak properly, let's encourage people to speak English the right way, after all nothing stops us from speaking our native Languages?

Speaking of languages, I have been accused in my office of being very'cultural'. I've been told I speak a variant of Yoruba that is 'stronger' than normal people would. At first I was mortified, I did not realise that I was being tagged a '9ice' in the office, but then on the flip side, I took pride in the fact that I speak Yoruba quite excellently (if i may say so for myself) and I am quite skilled in the art of English (language is an art.. you gotta believe me) and as such, being able to speak both languages is actually a plus for me and not neccesarily a bad thing (i think??) So, I'd like to encourage everyone reading this blog to learn a new language, yours, someone else's.. just learn a language. start by learning a verb or two.. you dont know where it'll come in handy. ( and NO, you are not too old to learn) I am struggling with my hausa, but I know that one day, I'm going to be able to say way more than 'zo muchi abinchi'('come let's eat'..yes i'm a grub.. bite me! :-)

Holy God

2010-02-27T14:23:00.000+01:00

I often wonder about worshipping God, and I realize that I do not do it nearly enough. I know I pray and I know when I pray I feel a certain connection with God, I believe he hears me but then, I realize that with worship, I don't do it nearly enough. I mean for a God who is awesome in all His awesomeness I don't worship enough. When I'm in church yes, I believe that the songs and the ambiance and the dimming of lights and the fellowship of brethren does take me to another realm and I able to completely fall, let go of my person, myself and let go to the Deity who gives me life. I realize that I seem to only get to that place, that peak of worship when I'm in church, when I'm being led to worship. However, I have not been to church this year.. I mean, its 2 months into the new year and I have not been able to connect on the level I desire. I was once in church and the pastor said, it's not the songs that should lead you to worship, it's you, it's the spirit. I have been able to pray, I have been able to praise, I have been able to give thanks, but I have been able to worship.

What is a life without worship? It's empty. An empty life is what it is... nothing.

I do not want to live an empty life, I want to be able to worship the God who made me, who called me to being, because the truth is, without HIM, I'm but a speck of dust.

Today as i type, I am listening to a song by Donnie Mclurkin, and I think I have unlocked the key to my private worship of God.
The song goes;

Only you are holy
Only you are worthy
Only you are wonderful
For there’s no one else like you
Who is faithful, ever true
All my love, my heart, my life
Is a testimony
Only you are holy

And there, it came to me... I need to focus on the holiness of God and the fact that there is absolutely none like Him. God has proven Himself to me time and time and time and time again.. indeed all my life is a testimony to him. Who am I not to fall before the awesome, holy presence of such a being... Holy, in whom there is no imperfection. A God so awesome, so great that none can compare. I need to just remember that He is HOLY, free of blemish, before whom I can not stand, before whom I am nothing, without whom I do not exist.

He is Holy, God is holy, faithful and true. I will worship HIM at all times. I need to remain focused, remember that ONLY HE IS HOLY, FAITHFUL, EVER TRUE, THE ONLY WISE GOD, THE OMNIPOTENT, THE ONE WHO CALLS THAT WHICH IS NOT AS THOUGH THEY WERE. HOLY, HOLY HOLY.

Role reversal and this generation

2010-02-22T12:01:00.000+01:00

I have been trying to update my blog in over a month. There is no excuse, I have simply been lazy. Pure and simple, no two words... mere laziness! Today I read 234next.com and Tolu Ogunlesi had posted an article, I read one yesterday and when I saw another one at dawn this morning I knew.. I'd been slacking with my blogging.

So here I am.. blogging again. I've had a lot of things whirling around in my head, a lot of things have confused me and made me wonder. One of such mind boggling things is the role reversal between the husband and the wife in this generation.

In the day and age of my mummy and daddy ( hehehe.. thats sounds soo five-year old)the daddy provided for the household and the mummy took care of the children.Sometimes the mummy did both... worked and still found the time to slap us aroud for breaking her pyrex.. but still there was the primary daddy provided and mummy spent arrangement...
Fastforward to 2010... mummy and daddy work.. daddy asks mummy for her contribution to house rent... (excuse me to let out an expletive here) WTF?????????????? So not only does mummy work, and contribute to providing for the family or even in some cases.. mummy is the Sole Provider...Daddy wants to still exercise his rights as daddy...

Me thinks once I start bringing half of the rent and I start paying for petrol in the generator ( and no not one a one-off situation.. when it becomes regular) .. me thinks then you lose the locus standi to expect that dinner be served at 7pm, or even expect that I come and rub your toes and tummy at my inconvenience. I am sorry, I am old school. I see no reason why if our roles are now reversed you should not take the role of cooking, or going shopping for household things... yes... after all I'm busting my caps all week long to have enough money that you will spend... and then i should come and do you a pedicure? no way jose!!!
And what is this busines of what's your money is mine and my money is yours? Please NO! that was in the day of our parents.. now let everybody hold their money!!!

So I know there is a place for being a supportive wife and all that, that's understandable, but please men should stop taking these things for granted.

I think, this generation is just warped and they have it all twisted.
I want a loving and supportive man, a man who would be considerate and not collect my money ( seeing as I've been driving to and from lekki in traffic all week), a man who would appreciate my efforts, who would provide for me( yes, thats the role of a man.. if u dont like it ..sue God...!!!!)and basically a man who would make me bless God for him and bless him all the days of our lives.

All this nonsense of role reversal is just wrong. Men, step up to the plate and bear that name "Man" with dignity!

I believe

2010-01-12T17:17:00.001+01:00

I believe in love
Even though I do not feel it
I believe in the air,
'cos I breathe it
I believe the sun is shining
Even though I do not feel it
I believe in the silence
'cos it envelopes me
I believe in the dark,
even though it brings no joy
I believe in a smile,
'cos it brightens up my day
I believe in God
even when the pain wracks so deep
I believe in death
'cos one day, I'll be no more.

Elusive Purpose

2010-01-12T17:07:00.000+01:00

How is it , that i feel so empty
Yet I'm bursting with so much
So much to think, to do to say
Yet i can not find the words
The world around me is expectant,
Having been blessed with such
I am found seriously wanting
I wonder if when death comes
Will I be ready
Because I feel I haven't acheived my purpose
Where does one seek purpose?
Where does one seek this so elusive thing?
In the smile on people's faces when I've done something nice
The joy which radiates just by my being there
A burden i have helped lift
A tear i have helped dry
Life,
purpose,
it seems one cannot have one without the other
But purpose cannot actually be measured
It is felt, and it is what keeps me going.
I have to bring joy and happiness to the next person.
I need help, I can not but seek
for purpose, so elusive, so free
can only be found
in this tangled web of life

Dear God

2010-01-09T22:06:00.000+01:00

All day today, I have been moaning and whining and complaining, and it just occured to me that somewhere up in heaven, You must be tired of hearing from me today.
I am a truly blessed child and all I've done today is complaining about something I dont have or the other. I'm either complaining about Smoking Joe, or my hair, or money to make my hair, or something.
I had an epiphany while i was in the shower this night, 'God has been soooo good to me and all I have done to repay him has been to whine about what He has not yet finished doing'.
I am truly sorry.

So here goes, a list of things I am grateful for.

I am grateful for the patience and the time taken to raise me up. My parents gave up a lot for me to have the best upbringing ever. My mum says all the time they would rather by books than buy clothes. I read all Ladybird series, Secret Seven, Famous Five before I was 10. I remember how my mother would nearly have a fit if you said "th" the wrong way, or pronounced a word like you were to lazy to make the effort. I am eternally grateful because today i can say "Woolwich" (Woolich) the way it was meant to be said.
I can not really say I have ever struggled to 'look' for a job in the real sense of it. I have been blessed, instead what do I do? I moan about having to drive all the way to Lekki. Some people just want to work.. they will sort logistics out, and here I am at a job that people are looking for and shallow me.. I complain.
I did my NYSC in Lagos. Trully, that may seem like small fry but I cant imagine having been in Yobe ooo seriously!
Never thought I'd say this but I'm grateful for Smoking Joe, warts and all that old dude gets me around this metropolis.
I'm grateful for the fact that I have never been deported, my name is not on the news for attempting to blow up any aircraft, I am just lil ol' unknown me.
I have just come back from holiday , a holiday I totally and thoroughly enjoyed every bit of (albeit one little annonnying someone who made me sad) and I was with my sister, and my friends and I life was just peachy. How did I manage to forget that just last week I was in bliss, and I'm already complaining that I have to service the car, I have to go to work....You are truly patient ooo...
If i had a child who was always whiny and moany.. one day I'll just lock her up in the bathroom.
I'm grateful for my intelligent friends and my family... they are available as resource. They are always there, a well of knowledge and support! I'm not as poor as I always say I am. I'm blessed.
My computer, as old as it is.. no battery and all, serves me well. Me and this buddy have been together for a while and it's still going strong. I complain about it all the time, not having a battery, not having a camera, hard drive not being big enough... but I have a computer, cant I just shut up and leave it at that?
I have a 2 bed room flat.. ( gives me an illusion of independence) I come and go as I please. I complain that it needs to be fixed, i need money to paint, do plumbing, blah blah but still. A roof over my head, a place of my own ( almost lol) and a sense of belonging.
And last but not the least, I'm grateful to be alive and well. I don't know the last time I was in a hospital bed, ill or even down with something beyond the common cold and every day " oh I'm weak"

So dear God, I'm truly sorry I've been ungrateful and whiny, a high maintainance kid. I promise to have an attitude of gratitude ( sounds corny i know) from now on.
Love always, your baby...
E

To Port and back

2009-12-13T21:00:00.000+01:00

Last week, I turned my nose up and told my sister i would never.. lai lai.. me ke.. never take the coach from London to NewCastle. I planned to scrape any extra I had to take the train oh, I did not mind, anything but having to endure that 6hour ride with those old people ( ever noticed the north east of England is predominantly occupied by old people?? my own statistics anyway!) I shuddered at the thought.
Lailai.. never me ke!

This same me.... I have just returned from a 12-hour trip from Port Harcourt oh!!!!!

The suffer of this weekend does not have part 2.

I did not quickly make up my mind to go for this wedding, by the time I decided to go the air fares had gone sky high and right now im thinking in the Sterling. So in my mind, the trip to PH by air would have cost me at least 250pounds.. taxi to and from the airport inclusive! So i decided.. very grudgingly.. to go by road. The worst of road travel in Nigeria is in those contraptions called 'Luxurious' buses, those things are by no means luxurious and I was not about to point it out to them oh!So here I was going to PH on friday evening, by road... night bus!!! So i figured, I'd get to the 'garden city' by 7 am, take a shower, tong my hair, get dressed, look pretty and go for the wedding. I had it all planned that by sunday morning, I'd be back in my house, in Lagos, right??? nope.. very wrong.
Everything that could go wrong went wrong. The bus company decided that they were going to leave at 4.30pm! I was surprised, i should have taken that as a cue that all was not going to be well oh, no.. (im dim like that sometimes) i proceeded to buy the 5k ticket to Port Harcourt via ABC transport 'your passport to service' ( whatever that means!!!!!!!!!). Anyway, I'd had a hectic morning and before we got to Shagamu I was in snooze land. This was just fine by me, I did not mind waking up and hearing that we were in PH. At about 10.30 pm, my aunty nudged me awake, we had arrived in Benin and the bus was stopping. We all got out for the routine stretching of legs and those who felt the need to eat at night did so. We got back into the bus and once again, I slept. I woke up 6 hours later and guess what????

We were still in that stop over place in Benin!!! I could have fainted right there and then.
The frigging bus company apparently have a policy that they dont travel at night!!! Can you imagine?? I was on a night bus that was not going to travel at night?? i mean ..wharraaaaheeeelllll????? Ok we don hear.. oya make una come make we begin the waka from Benin to PH na?? they had to go and wake the driver from wherever he was sleeping oh. So he sha finally came and we got to PH at 11.30 am!!!! I was tired, angry, cranky and definately not in the mood to celebrate with anyone oh!
Because of the way I'd scheduled my trip, everything I brought along for the trip was in my hand bag, not so for my aunty who decided to come with a .. what can i call it now.. a 'portmanteau'. She now decided that she was going to the church service from the ABC station oh, to cut the long story short she left me saddled with her 'portmanteau'. Let me quickly describe this box. You know those little boxes that chics who go on quick weekend trips pack their things in? those boxes have been personified to be "short time boxes" So there i was in PH... with that box. I just felt so wrong carrying that thing!
Next problem, where would I change out of my jeans? I went to the hotel where my brother and sister-in-law were and I showered there. Im sure I spent almost an hour under the shower.. I needed to wash Benin off my body na!
So I dressed up and had to go take a cab to the wedding reception venue, standing in front of the hotel, in my dress, all made up and with that annonying box in my hand .. i was the definition of all forms of cliches gone bad!!! I just felt wierd!!!!
It was a horrid feeling.
The wedding went well and I was just too tired to take the night bus. So this morning, I decided to come by another bus company.. Agofure Motors!
This was a smaller bus with airconditioning, i thought, this should not be bad.. I was soo wrong.
I sat on the back seat, and the shock absorbers of the bus were either non existent or were badly eroded, because.... i felt every single tremor, shake and quake of that bad nasty road. For 12 hours I was jiggled and juggled. I felt the rattling of my bones, sleep sef no fit come. This return journey was worse than the coming. At least I got to sleep in Benin for 6 hours of the 19hours on the road! The driver was unrepentant, he said there was no way he could avoid the monstrous pot holes on the road. With every pot hole or crater... my bones rattled. To make matters worse, my period came... I dont blame it. Im sure my uterus quaked with every movement of the bus. Poor matter....
My aunty, in attempting to be sympathetic said.. " You need to get used to these things".. If you see the venom with which I used to reply.. lai lai .. me i can not get used to suffer head o! if no be sey money yab man.. chei

lai lai me ke????

lol

So now really, who am I to say I cant take the coach from London to NewCastle??
National Express here I come!!! what is a few annonying stops at service stations and annonying old white women trying to show you the pictures of all of their 13 grandchildren when ive endured far worse? and i did not break??
Lai lai.. me ke!!!

Of Debuts and Self-Discovery

2009-12-07T09:29:00.000+01:00

My friend and colleague recently got signed on to G-mail and was curious as to what to write in the little box that says 'Status Update', since I was very unhelpful with my suggestions she went on to write "Debut". I found this quite apt. It was her first time on the g-talk and gmail and there she was going all around looking for people who had G-mail so she could add them to her chat list. Debut can be quite exciting i thought.. but not all the time. Last week friday, there was a gospel concert show called The Experience which has been running annually for the past 4 years.So, I decided to go, my debut at the Experience I called it. I was indeed going to have an Experience. First I did not drive, no way was I going to subject myself to the maddening traffic of lagos Island on a day when a free show was being organized, with 'area boys' all over the place and then parking would be another issue.. hence... I decided to take the BRT bus. Another Debut, as I had never been on those things and they'd been around for more than 15 months now. My debut ride on the BRT was not fun o!!! I had heard tales of how the bus was airconditioned and was just like London buses.. I was in for a rude shock. I had to stand all the way to TBS( The venue of the show) and then, the bus was soo hot.... I felt like I was back in Bwari... it was hot, people just kept chatting and it just did my head in!!! I could notr scream, I was having a break down there and then. It was going to get worse. Getting down at TBS and having to mill through the crowds had me thinking " You know you are not cut out for all these freebie things oh" but i trudged on, people pressing at me at all sides, traders calling out to you "Experience Gala, Experience Don Moen... Buy your whistle, Jesus is lord poster".. Some people were even selling jollof rice.. I kept praying that I would just get inside and find a seat. I did get a seat alright.. on the bleachers ( for what else will I call it? bleachers is the tush name for that concrete stone we sat on oh!) Apparently, getting to the venue at 5.30pm for a 7pm show was not good enough. Some people apparently had been sitting there since 12 noon, thats why they got choice seats . I thought " To see CeCe Winans no do me reash like this ooo, make I con siddon for here since 12 noon? Tufiakwa!!!" Anyway, my debut at the Experience was not a nice one oh, the whistling, cat calls, beagle blowing and sing-along did not allow me have a nice debut, I left at 8.30pm. The lure of my bed and the comfort of home over took the desire to have an Experience.
I also had another debut last week.I got a query from my direct boss, asking why such a clerical task that had been assigned to me was so demanding. It was coming I knew but I guess it just didnt leave me feeling as 'i dont care really' as I thought it would. I actually felt really bad about it and I still do. I dont like getting into the bad books of anyone and it really was not nice. I apologized though and I really wish this feeling would go away. It makes me sad...

Anyway, so I'm blogging and it should make me happy right???

So on self discovery.
I went for a training last week and I made some interesting self discoveries.
I am mediocre. Nothing more than you regular Jane Average. Nothing exciting gets me excited, I am booring and dry and .... this is beggining to sound like a dirge.
Ok enough of the sad and dreary stuff for the morning. Let me get back to work or any pretence of it whatsoever!

2009-11-26T19:43:00.000+01:00

I've been sitting here trying to figure out a title to this blog and I realised I really can't put a name to what I want to say so I guess I'll just go with the flow.
A friend of mine is very much involved in a guy, they are seeing a whole lot of themselves and though she says they are not dating, I do not have a better word to describe what they have going on. They spend loads of time in the car parked right in front of her house, at other times they are in a restaurant not too far from her house. At any material time they are never more than a 2 mile radius from her house. I asked her why they were 'always' in the car and she threw the question back at me. Long after she fell asleep it had me thinking.. what does dating really entail.I started thinking up scenarios.
The guy lives alone and the chic lives with her parents right? so they both get back from work around 7 pm( let's say both parties work on the island) .. ok so after work where do they meet?

Do they meet in the girl's house? in her living room with her parents sitted, all watching "network news" (me thinks there would be alot of akward moments plus no 'chance' for kissing and canoodling) Also, what do you do for food? Do you eat dinner made in the chic's house, by the mummy, the younger ones, or the househelp? Do you sit in the living room after work every day and get asked "Uncle Yemi, we made beans and plantain this night, would you like me to dish you some?"
Do they sit in the car? and neck all night long? how much of talking can they do in the car 7 days a week, 4 weeks a month, 12 months a year!! ( argggghhhh!!)
Do they go out from one 'joint' to another? Eating, cinema, bar hopping, throw in a little karaoke, a little opera or the random stage play or the other odd thing.

Take for instance both the chic and the guy live in their respective parents' houses, do you sit and bond with the guy's family ( and this is the dating stage oh.. not the girlfriend forming-ive been married into the family- you just dont know it yet -sort ooo) do you sit in the living in room and help guy's mum do her zipper? and remember if you are there too long one day you will hear " Erm, Lande dear, please quickly boil rice for Zachary and Peter, I'm running late for the Women's league meeting"
Meanwhile on a totally unrelated note, so on tuesday at work, a colleague of mine brouht out her lunch, very nice looking jollof rice, we all commented that the rice was nice o, and we all asked where she got it from, she said "From home" . Me and my big mouth, i proceeded to ask ( knowing she stays with her brother) "does your brother have a cook?" and next thing she says "Yes!!" Then she says "my brother's girlfriend, she cooks now, she cooks for my brother and I now so is she not a cook?" Ah.. I was shocked, honestly if na me be the chic, one day i go put rat poison inside the younger sister food true!! imagine calling her brother's girlfriend a cook because the poor girl is nice enough to make the odd dinner or 2.
Anyway, back to my problem of what dating entails.
I think it would be better for all parties if the guy lives alone right? so if he lives alone you can just go and hang in his house right? and avoid all the drama of where we stay, and what we do where! Because really, the 'toasting' stage with the phone calls and all start to wear thing after you guys start dating proper and then what???
What does dating entail?? Sitting in the car, or in the house? whose house? where will the parents be?do you chill in the guy's room? is the home flexible enough to allow visitors into the bedrooms? if you decide to chill in the living room then, will other family members get up and leave you two love birds to just be............
Or will you in the case of somepeople go from place to place to place to place, every night leaving your 'regulars' mark on every footmat!

Please explain to me.

Rant!!!!

2009-11-23T15:17:00.000+01:00

I was going to type this yesterday ( sunday) morning because the subject of my rant had just happend and I was angry.. but seeing as I was on my way to church I felt, "not let the venom spil your time of worship with the Lord" oh so I let it pass. Offcourse as I drove to church I thought about it all the way and I kept telling myself .."let it go"

Ok so I officially hate any of my friends that is in a happy-oh goodie-he makes my feet tingle- bloody -happy relationship right now!

It's bad enough that I do not have a man , I mean do you have to rub my "alone-ness" in my face?
3 things have happend in the last 1 month that have made me feel this way, because normally I'm perfectly happy with my life and I normally am not bothered about man or lack of being in a relationship, for me being with my brother and sister-in-law ( the sum total of my human relationship scale), being with my laptop, with fast internet and a TV series which wont end anytime soon helps, and offcourse a once a week update of gossip is just enough to keep me rolling ..( Dont ask about the sex part jare.. I get on just fine!!)
Anyway so what happend, one day I was sitting at my desk in the office and my colleague comes to check something by my computer and she turns and asks me " Do you have a boyfriend" (yes she is in one .. so u know they love to display their ebulience and overjoy..i digress forgive me) to which I answered.. " no" She had this shocked look on her face like i just poured hot sticky 'amala' on her face.
Colleague: You are joking right
Me: No, do i look like a clown to you ( at this point i was getting ready to say.. ermm oya come and be going ooo)
Colleague: Erm but you have someone that is chasing you now *snorty laughter follow*
Me: ** with the straightest of experessions so i dont get another ' you are joking'*** No i dont have anyone "chasing" me.
Thinking she would know to drop it... ah.. I was wrong she proceeded with another aghast ( for lack of a better way to describe it) look..
Colleague: WHY?????

At this point I had to make a mental note to rant .. but I did not. I smiled and I said, well i dont know why?? and I changed the topic.

Incident 2.
I went to my friend's house and I saw her sister.. also my friend. ( recently 'acquired' a boyfriend as I have been given to the impression that there is a store where these things are picked up and I am simply refusing to navigate myself and SJ there to grab a copy). So my friend's sister, lets call her TY proceeds to regale me on the 'beautifulness'( for lack of a better word) of the world since she met her man. Yes let me quickly give you a quick background into YT.. abi na TY i wan call am sef.. ehen!
TY and I are about the same age and both manless( at some point ) anyway, so now life is all pink and yellow ooo since the advent of this boy. I really dont mind your happiness.. really I dont ( maybe if i say really many times you will believe me right) but what i mind is you letting me not get a word in edgewise about any other thing.. I mean we were watching Phoebe and Joey fool around and everything they did brought up how Mr. Sunshine was this and that. It took all my strenght not to grab a bucket to puke in.
Really I'm not hating but if you are happy..we don hear na.. I mean I knew in the first 45 minues of her speech that the guy was awesome, fabulous, this that.. ok na e don do!!!!! I had to leave earlier than normal, it was that bad, I did not mind sitting in traffic and listening to radio and having 'gala' traders poke their merchandise in my face.
Happy people can be so irritating and insensitive sometimes jare!!

Incident 3
On Saturday I asked my friend who by the way is in an undefined 'relationship' if she would come with me to see my cousin in NYSC Camp oo, to which she willingly agreed. So on sunday morning i send her a text asking if we should go for 8 am services in our respective churches so we can have the day to go to iyana-ipaja, to which she replies..... argghh im so angry just rememebreing it now that I dont think I can even tell you guys her reply. In short she made alternative plans with her man ( and she was not even curteous enough to tell me that I'd been bumped for a man)and she now asked if she could come after all her waka...
Kpshewww.. I was just angry. It made me realise, girls are so undependable when they are in relationships and they want you to cry with them when the men leave them abi??
I was really angry. I know I know i sound like a hater.. but really....why can't I come before the boy.. and guess what they were doing? they were going to goto church together? I mean come oooooonnnnnn( im really screaming as i type this!!!!!) Did you not know you were planning to go to church with your man before agreeing to hang with you lonely ass friend???
Kpshewwww

Anyway.. please no one should come near me and tell me they are happy manwise ooo... because if they do honestly I can say something incredibly rude!!

Ehen, on a totally unrelated note, there's this boy whom i know who was nagging me on saturday on what I planned to do all day to which I replied "nothing" and he said.. "dont u have chores?"
I said "Chores bawo?, what sort of chores"
Man: House chores now, washing your clothes, cleaning your house, washing your car"
Me: No house chores, i clean my house regularly i dont wait for an even, my clothes are at the lanudry, Hart in the office will wash SJ on monday and the dogs have been fed by Tope
Man: Na wa for you oo u no even wan do anything na everything you don pay for

Abeg oo.. someone should help me ask the man if it his money I used to do those things and if he believes it makes me less of a "good woman" to know how to create employment opportunities for people.After all dont people send their agreements my way to review??

kpshewww
yeye people in this annonying world!!

Have a nice week oh jare correct peeps in blogville!

Smoking Joe

2009-11-14T17:14:00.000+01:00

So Smoking Joe is the name my office people have given a nice "guy" that has been helping me get to work. This "guy" is a red Mazda 626 ,1986 model. It is a 2-door coupe which has been in my family for years. As in............yearrrrrrrz!So the car was a "house" car and then my sister used it and then finally the baton was passed to me. Smoking Joe ( hereinafter referred to as SJ) does not actually "smoke" but well it just seemed like a fit name for the car.
Every week SJ has an issue i have to deal with, either the clutch plate or the brake, or the kickstarter.... I mean something just has to go wrong with SJ. Sometimes SJ is so ill It has to be on admission. Weeks with the mechanic, and then it comes back with a different illness. SJ is really old, it needs to be put down, but how can I put it down when I have no replacement. I mean, SJ has its uses oo. For instance, sundays, going to church is made possible by SJ, if perhaps i want to hang out with friends, offcourse ill need a ride home afterwards? SJ is there. Ofcourse sometimes I have to park far away 'cos SJ is just so darned ugly. I mean the bumper is being held together by some flimsy wires.
Recently, I bought speakers to make the ride manageable and endurable, seeing as their is no airconditioning and I drive for long stretches at a time. At least some music to bop my head to helps.
So you all know what my christmas wish is right???

If i have to spell it out then maybe you should not be reading my blog ooooo...............

Have a lovely weekend peeps!

Essential Or Accessory

2009-11-11T18:12:00.000+01:00

Often i wonder, what does it all mean
To be a part of something true and real
What does it mean to be an integral part of it
I have come to realise that it would not work if im not in it
I am an essential part of it.
Because of me, there is a balance in my home
Because of me, there is a balance in my work place
Because of me, it hasnt fallen to pieces
What does it mean to be an accessory,
I am an enhancer, i am merely an appendage
True, I make the substance more beautiful
But oh well... surely i am not indispensible
Am i the source of the balance? or am i?
Just an accessory to the balance in place.
Will i be missed sorely?
Am i dispensible?
Am i an essential or an accessory.
It is important to realise that u can never be one of these at every material time
To one u may be an essential and to another u may be an accessory
It doesnt make it all bad.. No, it merely emphasizes the diversity in the world.
To each his own.
All that matters is that in whatever role you are playing, be good at it.
A neccessary Essential, a neccesary Accessory

Dichotomy of faith and confidence

2009-11-09T16:48:00.000+01:00

On the 13th of October, I was sitting in my office around 8.30pm, waiting for the traffic in lekki to reduce and I got a phone call. One of those phone calls that you keep rememebering and wish never came, you look back and wish you never ever have to receive the sort, ever ever again. My friend called to tell me my cousin was in an accident and he had been taken to the hospital. I asked "Is he alright?" and I was told he was fine. I made the neccesary phone calls to alert my other family members and then I got another phone call.." Er... Ayoola has been in a 'fatal' accident" I grew cold all of a sudden, i mean, when you hear "fatal" right... you know its all over.. My head was spining, why did my friend tell me he was "fine" does he not know the meaning of "fatal"? i mean.."fatal" and "fine" can never be in the same sentence. This was not good at all. I was sick with fear, I was praying speaking in tongues and shaking. I still had to drive from lekki to the hospital in Ikeja where I was told he had been taken to. It was not an easy ride. I am naturally a worry-wart. I had absolutely no idea of what I was going to meet in the hospital, I had no idea whom amongts my family had gotten there and who had not, I had no idea who to call without aggravating any one further. I had only one place to turn to........... GOD. I prayed. I spoke in tongues, I made promises to God, HE must have had a laugh. I was weak, cold and hot at the same time. I could not get to the hospital soon enough.
My cousin is only 23. He is one person in my family that is just absolutely reliable. He's so young and so kind, he has a pure heart, a heart of Gold. He would do ANYTHING for me and I for him.
The morning before the accident, he made fun of me that he was back in his Ikeja office and I had to go to Lekki when he had only to get on a bike to work. He was about to eat "agege bread" before I headed out of the house. The next time I saw him was in the hospital. His head was the size of a soccer ball and he was unconscious. His leg was broken, and a multiple skull fracture.
He was on a bike home and he was hit. The bike rider died immediately. My boy was alive, found by someone who decided to look carefully at the body in the gutter, he was found twitching.
Today is 4 weeks since the accident and he has made a tremendous recovery. God has been faithful.
I had to hang on to God, I was walking in only faith because y'all know what a head injury is right???his head was pretty bashed in.I prayed so hard, I was praying at every thought, I was soliciting prayers left right and center. I was having faith. I held on to God( I still am holding on to God). But then I noticed something happend to me, with every news of improvement I heard or saw, I stopped praying, I did not notice at the time, but I reduced the fervency of my prayers, I started having confidence.
Then one day, my cousin told me she went there and he had started talking but a bit of what he was saying was incoherent.........
I remembered God.
I felt so terrible. I had stopped grasping on to faith, and I had started believing in the medicine of it all. I started beleieving the Doctor's reports and the scans, I forgot that it was the same doctors that told us that.." all you need to do now is to pray".
It was then i realised that there was a big big difference in the approach to these things. Faith according to the Bible is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
I had stopped having faith, and I was sorry. I repented of my unbelief and I told God that any confidence I have now, should be in what HE had done and what HE had told me HE was going to do, not the scans, not the x-rays.

This faith business however, is not easy oo.. no, it's a struggle a battle against your own mind. Your mind and education and enlightenment is telling you that someone whose head is bashed in can never regain his full senses, it's telling you he will be a retard, but when God puts a word of comfort in your heart, that just settles it, and you knwo the kick of it, God sometimes shows you HE means what he says, he shows you that when you go to hospital again, Ayoola knows "Nathan Petrelli" and knows that "Victor Esan" was his classmate in Airforce Secondary School.
So I'm not going to worry any more, because I'm holding on in faith,I am going to hold on to God's promises, I remain hopeful that Ayoola will walk out of the hospital, of sound mind and body, I have faith that this healing will be complete. I have faith that God will make me a better person, hopeful that each day, I shall learn something new from life's experiences, new things that would remind me on the need to be totally and utterly dependent on God.

I'm going to put confidence in self to the backseat, and I am going to walk in faith and not by sight!

Have a good week people and have faith, it may be hard, but it will keep a spring in your step!

Crush

2009-10-07T10:27:00.000+01:00

He walks by and i feel the chills to the tip of my toes
Barely sparing me a glance
What's that fragrance he wears? who knows?
Is it made in France?
Why do i feel him always so close?
Or is it just me in a trance
My heart feels like its choking me
The magnitude of what I'm feeling
is almost incomprehensible
Even to me,
Surely there has to be some meaning to this feeling
Its unreciprocated, Its incomprehensible
Yet it refuses to free me of its grasp
Im walking around with thoughts that someday,
he will just turn around and see me
I walk around in this maze,refusing to see the truth
Im almost invisible to him, yet i hold on
In my sane moments of course,
I realise that it leads to no where
But i refuse to acknowlege that he is not the one for me
Maybe, just maybe I'll out grow it
Maybe I'll out grow him
Maybe I'll just look back and laugh
But now........ all i am is enchanted,
by this crush of mine

170708

I'm not marrying you because...

2009-09-21T14:38:00.000+01:00

I'm not marrying you because
i'm 28 and I happen to be single.
not because fear makes me tingle
Not for the need to discuss

I'm not marrying you because
i want to have a larger family
not because it sucks to sleep alone
Definately not because, i need to share

I'm marrying you because
it just feels so right
You are such a delight
Not one to fuss
You love me as i love you
and that is why
I am marrying you
till i die

Mama Ogadi

2009-09-15T13:20:00.000+01:00

I used to make one kick ass 'ghana weaving' braids with one girl called Ify. Ify's braids were soo good that you could tell if a person had just left Ify's place I mean she had a signature way she "carried her hand" and so the weave just looked marevelous! anyway so because Ify was soo good and she was the only one who made the hair, you had to get there really early as in like 6 am.. to 'book' a number.. she never did pre-booking. So I would always like to be "number 1" so I'd get the best of Ify's morning charm and I'd get to Ify's shop at 5.30 (yes.. i know too early abi.. ehn ... I like my hair being on point when I make it)

So ify's shop is infront of a house that has like 4 flats in it. One of the families that live in the house is Mama Ogadi's family!

When u arrive at 5.30 am to the house, Mama Ogadi ( hereinafter referred to as M'Ogadi as is pronounced) would be already up and about.. she would be pouring water into the gutter in front of the house... then she would go outside the gate and light a fire with which she would boil water for her family to wash up when they wake up! M'Ogadi had 5 girls... five girls with age difference of not more than a year between them. M'Ogadi's mother-in law lived in that house too. She sells fried fish in front of the house. P'Ogadi has 2 brothers and 1 sister living with him!
So i would sit there, waiting for my hair dresser to come I would see people oozing out of this really tiny flat. I wondered.."dear God.. Where did they all sleep"?
Out of that tiny flat came 6 adults and 5 children. P'Ogadi was a 'cabu cabu' driver ( not a taxi oo, and not a cab.. mba no.. a 'cabu cabu' is those really battered cars that park at the garage and wait for each of you to enter.. so 7 of you would pile into a Peugeot station wagon.. yes.. that is a '
'cabu cabu') So P'Ogadi is a 'cabu cabu ' driver.. I know Grandm'Ogadi sells fish.. M'Ogadi says good bye to us here makes around 8 am . I was not quite sure what she did but Ify told me many years later than M'Ogadi was a school teacher. P'Ogadi's sister didnt really do much, she would sit infront of the flat with a mirror , all day pinching the pimples(acne) on her face and brushing her hair.. in my mind I would think, these ones are on stand bye to kick M'Ogadi out of her house if this pregnancy she is carrying is another girl.. ( oh I forgot to mention M'Ogadi was pregnant!!!)
The brothers -in-law.. what do they do?? who knows.. but at least they go out and dont come back until late.. ( yes sometimes I dont get number 1 position and have to go and come back, my hair doesnt get finished till 8pm)

The other day I was thinking of M'Ogadi and I was sad.M'Ogadi had a permanent hard look on her face, her face was weary all the time.M'Ogadi is the Nigerian Woman personified.
There are so many women out there, suffering in this country. Women who have to work really hard, I mean extra hard, physical labour just to feed their family. The Nigerian system of having extended family does not help either. M'Ogadi has to feed her 5 daughters, she has to send them to school and then when she comes back, she has to make dinner for her kids and those agbayas that live in her house.. and her mother-in-law too. She has to endure the derision of being "unable to produce sons" hence the need to "try" again.

I plan to make my hair soon, and I really pray that M'Ogadi has been given a better lease on life. So at least i can see some cheerie faces around me as I await dawn and the beautiful hair Ify's craftmanship is going to weave on my head.

A slap or two?

2009-09-14T13:45:00.000+01:00

About 2 weeks ago, a friend of a friend asked me what it would take me to leave my marriage, I promptly responded.. " If he beats me... i will pack my load kia kia!!" The guy asked me if that was the only thing... i thought deeply.. and sensing it was a trick question I said.. well I dont really know what may come in future.

I've never really thought too deeply about the matter of domestic violence but that question really made me reach into the deep recesses of my mind to think about it.

When I was younger, I lived in a home where the 'daddy' used to hit the 'mommy'. I always felt it was alcohol induced and I felt those quarels were caused by religious differences and I made a mental note.. even then.. in my early teenage years not to marry someone who was wither given to alcohol or was of a different religion from me. I thought...ah these are things that cause problems later on in life o.. I will not do it oo! Some years later, I went to my hometown for a cousin's wedding and my cousins and I went out for drinks, one of my cousins got soo messed up that when he got home he took an axe to his mother... ahh me that I already had fear of alcohol in excess and what it does to otherwise sensible men. So for me it was a double NO NO!

But then I grew up, and i realise that alcohol is not the only inducement for a man to raise his hand and slap me.. some people are just flipping damn crazy!!! I mean... C-R-A-Z-Y!!!!

So i think when he slaps me, I'm packing my load and leaving right???? well not so fast lady.. where are you packing to? "Erm.. back home off course" " Dont I have family?, ee see me see trouble oh? is it untill he kills me before I leave.. ahhh abegi oo" It seems very easily said right? But I dont think it is. I think the hardest part is the feeling of failure, knowing your marriage failed. You could not make it work.
The truth is there are two sides to this thing. Maybe because of our culture and the irritating mix of religiousity therein! There is the school of thought that you have to stay there and make it work , you give it your whole.. after all your mother stayed with your father.. abi do you think this 40years of marriage have not been fraught with their own brand of mishaps.. no my child you will stay with your husband.. you will endure.. u hear? endure my child.. some will even go as far as to say.. ahh where do u want to go with this your little baby? dont u know how the world perceives single girls with babies?( ah please ooo let world come and be receiving head butt for me naa** eye roll***) i digress... so they tell you to suck it in and endure..
There is the school of thought that says.. divorce is a sin and as such.. ermm madam.. if u leave him you are sinning.. oh yess even if he is breaking ur head with a base ball bat and you wear sunglasses to cover your bruises at all hours of the day.. my dear you are still a sinner oh! Ehn because ermmm "divorce is a sin"

Then there is the school of thought that says.. girl.. up and leave the S.O.B oh! do u want him to kill you ( god bless that your friend that is giving you that advice.. if she is single... they will say.. ah see life.. because she no get man she wan make u carry ya load commot from ya husband house) Dont let him kill you before you leave oh.. if he kills you.. your body will not be cold before another woman will move and and please dont gimme that crap about you wanting to stay because of your child or children.. TAKE THEM WITH YOU!!!!
NO WOMAN DESERVES TO BE ASSAULTED. You deserve better than a man who will slap you around oo!

So this brings me back to the main issue... how do you tell that the man will not one day come and slap you? how do u know that this sweet loving boyfriend of yours, who is the perfect boo, whom you cant wait to spend your life with will not one day in a fit of anger throw a hot pressing iron smack in your face?
It scares me you know? 'Cos sometimes its easy to say " you would have been seeing the signs" yes i agree there are some guys that they start their own crase from when you are dating and if u see those signs and you still say ( and please dont give me that BS about you loving him) then maybe.. just maybe you deserve to be beaten but even then gaaaan!! I'm talking about those sweet men that take you on trips, talk you through issues you have at work.. rub your feet when you are tired, stand up to their mom's for you.. yes.. im talking about those men.. those ones that crase just worries them! how will you know and what do u do when he comes with sappy puppy eyes and says... "baby, I'm truly sorry. I love you my heart breaks at the thought that I.. I oladimeji.. could ever put a scar on this porcelain perfect face of yours"

What does one say to that??

If I could

2009-09-06T10:45:00.000+01:00

If i could keep you here
I would
If my tears could drown you
it would

I am just so tired
Tired of holding on to you
I try to will you back to me
But it all seems futile

So I'm letting you go
because you are not mine
maybe you were never mine
but my tears still flow

If my will could break you
i'd try
if my love could tame you
it would

Birthing

2009-08-18T14:36:00.000+01:00

The head pops out first
then the rest of the body wriggles out
Covered in fluid, red gooey fluid
The skin is rumply looking
Yet we do not see the inadequacies,
We do not see the pain which was wrought upon us
just to bring it forth
Beauty is birthed,
joy soars in our hearts...
The pain all forgotten...
New life is birthed
A new entity
I feel so honoured
That this great person
this life changer
This beautiful, kind hearted soul
has come through me
All of a sudden, life does not seem so bleak
I feel i can do something
I have made a difference to the world.
I have played a part in the new generation.
I am a mother.

Where Do We Go From Here

2009-08-14T20:28:00.000+01:00

My dear friend Gbonju sent me an email i sent to her in 2003. as I read the e-mail, I was almost certain I was not the one who wrote it. I think it was my very first attempt at public writing. Off course it never got published and the scenarios i painted in the piece have not changed much.
I hope everyone who reads it will enjoy it and make a change if need be in what ever situation they find themselves.

Enjoy!!!

I'm a Nigerian girl who has seen so many traumas of being a Nigerian and even living in Nigeria.First of all the, ill that befalls me everyday; the way out of my house has been bad for sooo long that we no longer go through that route, the alternative is also a living hell.I dont know when last i had 30 minutes of uninterruped power supply .Then I thought and thought what the cause of all these troubles were, we spend too much time making noise about the government and what they are not doing and what they should do that we take the focus of ourselves.In a bus, you see people getting upset with the bus driver because he's not stopping them at exactly the point they want to stop, irrespective of whether there are a hundred cars behind their bus, or whether they are not at the precise bustop, they'll scream blue murder at the conductor....its terrible.You know, I'm upset about the fact that students have been at home for 5 months!!!!! I know every one talks about this and I dont want to re-flog the issue, but look at it, the thing has dragged on for too long. its almost as if the ASUU members themselves are not sure of the essense of the strike or is there something they are not telling us?5 schools now have pulled out.so is it that those schools have more comapssion on the students than the others or is it that they no longer believe in the cause they were fighting? or is it that they have beeen settled of?????Look at this scenario too, we are all about to board a ferry going to Marina from Wharf okay? and we are just a handful, but what do Nigerians do??? we rush and push each other and get scratched and scraped all to get on one ferry... guess what? the ferry doesn't get filled up before it leaves the dock..Getting to Marina what do we do???? we start rushing off as we see Marina in sight. Do we wait for the ferry to berth???No, we start scrambling off like mad people.An accident happens and then you hear all sorts of comment about Govenrment this and Govenrment that!We have to start by doing the littlest things for ourselves.Like being disciplined, drinking pure water and restraining ourselves from throwing the paper out the window, not throwing our Gala wraps on the road, not complaining that the government waste disposal policies are not well implemented.Look at this sad situation.The setting is a Lagos State health center.There is power outage (not unusual) but the Government has provided the generator, contrary to what people like to believe. There is a man in the engineering department who has been employed to put on the generator as and when needed, okay? He neglects his duty and doesnt come to work , when he does, he waltzs in at 11.30 p.m (he's to resume at 7.00p.m) as if he is perfect order.So when people come in and need health services and there's no power they complain to their friends and loved ones that 'the government' has made no provision for power supply. And that they,therefore, prefer to go to private hospitals.Did you know that the best doctors are employed in Government hospitals? Did youuknow that they are well paid? Better than the average private hospital doctor?.Now in all fairness, the generator man is an everyday person like me who will complain about the ASUU strike and dirt on the streets and bad roads and all that. But is he serving and doing his best in his little corner?? NO!!!. The ambulance driver comes to work as and when he feels the urge to show his face, what happens to ill people that need to be transferred from place to place??Need i speak about the man supposed to issue cards, about the chief matrons and other nurses... its too bitter to remeber 'To Serve our Father land, with Love and strength and Faith' Our kids sing this songs everyday in schools but they dont see good examples of Love and Strength and Faith.I was priviledged to be in Kano when the presidential aspirant Buhari came for campaign, there were truck loads of people, with spears, cutlasses and all sorts of harmfull weapons screaming 'sai mai sallah' i thought to my self, 'isnt this supposed to be a political campaign?' why are we bringing religion into it? why the violence.?? I saw graffittis of President George Bush labelled as an infidel... I was stunned! I thought to myself?? 'Because there's a war between the west and the east is that automatically translated into a war between Christianity and Islam?' I thought to myself ,are these people illetrates or what? they would stop at nothing to kill someone else because we place so much importance on such trivialites such as our religious differences.Where is the love that we are supposed to have for one another?Our we brightening the little corners where we are ?We are Nigerians, we should be the ones to build Nigeria.Then the Government.....hmmm. You know, I was priviledged to be in Abuja a few months ago and you know the place is almost ideal, (at least some areas) you almost forget you are in Nigeria, you set out , plan to get some where in 15 minutes and you are there! maximum extended time, 5 mins. So I figure, how will they know what ills I go through in lagos? they live ideal lives they are comfortable, their bills are paid and coverd by the almighty GOVERNMENT.I drove past the police head quaters i was impressed, I mean ... I am the worlds' greatest cynic and I said "wow", i would like to be a cop if I saw a place like this; and then without allowing that thought to rest I remembered the horrors of 'shandi shandi' in Lagos and the stray bullets and all those.....horrible times, the criminals that go unpunnished and all that and i think.. Nigeria, we hail thee.But do I blame the police men??? no~! how can i expect them to solve cases like Dick Tracey, do they have good data collection facilities? no?? do we have a good terrific forensic? good and intelligient investigators? i mean Investigators, officers of the law? not.....'Men in Black' on the streets oh!You know we love noise making in Nigeria, a little thing and we are blowing our own trumpets. If the police department buys 10 new geeps today you'll see it on newsline, tell me if one of those geeps is going to help book criminals...NEVER!!!!!!!!!I dont want to talk about the siren and the convoys that are used to intimidate normal everyday people.The issue of gun carrying by the police men too is also a fact that gives me shivers.Why must they carry guns on the street.Is it that Nigeria is in a perpetual state of emergency? why the psychological intimidation, why must the 'men in black' carry weapons' why do they need to cock it to frighten, the bus drivers, why will they give the guns the opportunity to " accidentally discharge" ( i hate to use the term "in civilised countries" because it make us sound like animals) In the west, do we see the officers of the law around intimidating the citizens with guns and armoured tanks? only in times of distress and then they apologize to the citizens for the ocurence.I went to Unilag last week and i saw a war tank, it was all i could do to shudder and gasp.... what was going on here? so i realised that in their warped minds this was what the could do to protect themselves from 'rioting , violent students ' abi?Let me tell you another upseting aspect of my trip to Abuja. I had an opportunity to visit the National hospital .I was enthralled, it was beautiful. As I walked down the corridoors of the hospital, i felt my spirit soar at the thought of this edifice being Nigerian, and for the first time in a really long time i felt proud to be a Nigerian even if temporarily.It was like a stream in the midst of a desert for a soujourner (and i did feel like a soujourner just going through the motions of life ). The place was beautiful and VERY standard , nothing haphazardly done.As with everything in Abuja, no expense was spared and for a good cause too, i was pleased. I went home nearly flying cos of the joy. There was hope for my homeland.We had succeeded in doing something good for the benefit of all of us and not just the elite few.As I reached my aunty's house i was bursting with joy, i recounted my experience at the hospital, my joy at seeing the place.The flowers, the scenery, I couldnt contain myself I was given a cold drink and told to sit down.In a soothing voice, as if not to break my excitement my cousin told me "It is not managed by Nigerians,Ronke, The management of the hospital is contracted out to foreigners.".Needless to say i was heartbroken.So, therefore, I came to the conclusion that the hope of breaking out of the darkness was dim.Maybe not in my life time, perhaps in the time of my kids unborn.As I thought about our not doing anything right, I thought about ballette bustop area on apapa oshodi express road, Lagos that was bad for several months which led to horrific traffic. I was traumatised.Anytime i had to go towards Oshodi i got really depressed. A friend of ours missesd his flight to the U.S after spending 4 hours at Ilasa. It was almost hillarious, the next day he went to the airport in the morning and didn't bother going back home.Now the roads been fixed but has anybody thought to ask why that spot always goes bad when the rains come? no! I discovered that the road itself was in the path of a canal and it would always erode.What do i think should be done? simple, make a flyover about that spot.I also thought that since I'm not that much of a genius some brilliant civil engineer must have thought about that so why hasn't it been done? funds??? negligience? no scale of preference on the part of the 'Government'?Or perhaps, there is no brilliant indegenous civil Engineer..... because all our students don't get properly taught. They are rushed through the course outline, given the date of their exam and told to read hard.Of course, the good ones go and read hard, if they are lucky to be on the good side of the lecturer they get good grades. If they are not, they get pasable grades.The bad ones off course don't bother at all with reading and they somehow manage to get out of school with an equalizer 2-2 (2 for school they will take 2).they have some nice uncle somewhere who helps them get a relatively okay job (which makes them better off than their contemporaries at home) The M.D of the company where they are working knows someone somewhere who can help get a contract.They get awarded the contract and then our fresh undegraduate is given the project.. haha his degree is put into use fianlly! Does he know half of what's expected of him???? no!!!does he do a shoddy job??Naturally!Where do we go from here?

Why Not?

2009-08-05T20:43:00.000+01:00

Life hands a real hard card to women! It's simply unfair. For everything a woman has she has to work extra hard. Just to prove to the world that she is capable and offcourse to wipe off the tag of " weaker sex" or "fairer sex".Pray tell.. what is that about?
Recently, i have been going through a phase. This is called the "i- want- to - move-out- of -home" phase. So i began my search. I started by getting an agent. Then i was told that no one in Lagos gives accomodation to single ladies.... You can imagine my surprise when a friend of mine went further to say " giving a house to a single lady is only slightly better than giving a house to an Ibo man in Lagos" Ah,.. i was shocked!! I had to fib slightly to the agent that my fiancee was on the Rig in portharcourt and while he was there i was in charge of looking for a place for us to stay when we get married in a few months!
Why is it so hard for a woman to live alone? Someone said our culture does not permit it, to them i answered... "errr as a student you live alone is some flat in Abule-oja and no one raises an eyebrow" you live abroad and go to school abroad and you even have male flat mates.. to that i get the response " ehn.. that is abroad now... this is Lagos".
Im told by some older people that a woman who lives alone is perceived to be an "iya'n dagbe" which literarily translates to "woman lives alone" but the informal meaning is to imply that the lady is one of loose moral standards. Another told me that if I live alone, the potential guy who would want to marry me would belief i am a woman of less than virtous chraracter and as such he will withdraw whatever proposal he has in his gut!. To this school of thought, i am quick with a retort, staying under the umbrella of my father's house does not certify that I am not screwing my bunnies out somewhere or the other and the man should 'carry go' with his proposal oh jare if that is lame enough to keep him from proposing!

Anyway, i digress... So here i am, stuck... living at home all because I am in Nigeria and offcourse being the hypocrites that we are, we believe that the girl has to stay at home till ...... oh by the way when i ask "so what age will it be alright to move out.. I never seem to get a definite answer, it always ends up being something along the lines of " dont worry, your husband will come and take you away from your father's house"....... Truly this position does not sit quite well with me. Trust me, I have absolutely nothing against the holy institution of marriage, but I believe a line must be drawn at the point where Marriage is next to death as options to one leaving the nest. For me, the nest has no longer become a place of nurture and safety. It's like being stuck in a room without a door and even the window in the room does not let air in.. you know the sort?

So my mind just turns and turns and then when it finishes turning, i get very angry. Angry at being stuck being a woman and not being free.. and I live in the 20th Century! Just the thought!
Women are supposed to be chaste and not have sex before marriage, at least that is what I was told when i was growing up. So "good girls" dont get laid, they go through their teenage years feeling guilty for whatever stolen kiss or fondle they have received at one point or the other in their life. The ones who have gone a step further than a mere fondle would pray fervently that whatever 'rough play' did not break the hymen...... DRATZZZ the bloody thing called a hymen!
Anway, so the lady lets call her (Sisi)... who has not gotten any then gets married to this guy ( hereinafter called Bobo) who by the way has been there and done that...ok lets say he's just had a good enough amount of sex not to ask you " honey.. is it in there??". So Sisi starts getting laid. Sisi and Bobo are enjoying a good enough sexual life suddenly,Bobo needs " fresh blood" and he stops giving it to Sisi. So once again, Sisi is back to her dry season and only gets it on say complimentary events... maybe an annual cocktail at Bobo's wedding where he gets tipsy enough to notice the gleam in her eye.. or say, it's Sisi's birthday and Bobo is so happy with her that he decides to give her a wet kiss... and then from there something leads to another and then,.. wham bam.. they end up in bed! So other than the occasional once is 3 months or once in 6 months, Sisi is left hanging. Then for the woman, she goes from a dry spell to a complete desert, aridity infact and for the man, he goes on as if life was just peachy. Offcourse his speed and virility may have reduced but then, he still gets his freak on. But you wait and see the hue and cry that will rise if Sisi were to step out on her husband, just to get a little something something that she is not getting at home. The world is just unfair.
You are in traffic, and you see a bad driver... you would already hear sniggering comments " i sure sey na woman".
We should be allowed to do whatever we want. Really, after all we are Queens, and this Queen wants to move out, do something with her life before another male dictator Bobo comes to take charge telling her what to do and what not to do.
Im very cranky and upset, and dont ask me if it's that time of the month, ok well it is actually very hormonal right now and I'm going all feministic in my rant.
Why can I not be allowed to live alone? Tell me....... Why NOT?

Fresh and Real

2009-07-20T18:49:00.000+01:00

What i feel
Words can not encapsulate
What I dream,
The eye can not visualise
Where I'd go
Is widely uncharterd

I love you so much
My heart thuds
Its new
Its fresh
Its real

Please be mine!

Fidelity and Marriage

2009-06-28T20:05:00.000+01:00

I've always wondered about fidelity in marriage and what the whole hoopla was about. I've been given to understand that fidelity is not something you take for granted when you are married. I've been told by a number of married people that "one does not eat rice continuously.. one needs variety". I found this extremely disturbing, and as one who has not entered the 'holy' institution of marriage, fidelity or lack of it therein is something that gives me a whole lot of concern.
By variety, my married friends mean, they would want to 'be with' other people other than their spouses. Like a guy is married for 2 years, he wants to share his "manly manliness" with other women. Or a woman finds that she is drawn to another hot bod.. like a moth to a flame!
A married man i met recently just told me ..in his attempts to allay my consternation at the idea of a man trying to get 'fresh' with another woman... that as long as a man was doing all he was supposed to do to and for his wife at home, then a woman should not concern herself with where her husband is or what he is doing or what he is upto! Hence, as long as he provided for his wife, was there for her, took her on holiday every now and then and offcourse regularly had sex with her, then she had no cause to concern herself with whether or not he was flirting with some other woman or not. I found this rather disturbing and i must say that hearing those words has given birth to this post.
I'm not married and I have never been married, so I am worried. I am a strong arbiter of one man, one wife. I strongly believe that no one forced you to marry and as such you must respect the sanctity of the institution. However, it is sad that many people do not share this notion with me. I would not be content with having a man who thinks that because he provides for me and bestows me with his name and his sperm he has license to cheat on me.
I've been told by many people that what i term "cheating" is not actually cheating. My definition of cheating..you have a problem and the first person you think of sharing the problem with is not your spouse.. you are cheating. Your heart races when you are talking to this person who is not your significant other... you are cheating, you spend an inordinately long amount of time talking to this person, who IS not you significant other and you keep the material disclosure of this long convo's from your spouse???? YOU ARE A CHEAT! You are kissing, smooching,petting or sleeping with someone other than your spouse? well... you are dongone lost!
There is no justification for cheating and I shudder at the thought of my man cheating on me.. I mean my husband...not just a random boyfriend or the other.. after all I have not taken the vow!

Maybe I'm just myopic and I've not seen anything in this life, but I know I'm not built that way. I bruise easily, as Natasha Bedingfield would say, and I dont know how I'd handle a hurt of such magnitude. A friend told me that with an attitucde like mine, the man would cheat and hide it from me; to that i responded."ignorance is bliss".The guy told me that "everyman cheats.. so deal with it" I was terribly broken that day, it made me think about the whole thing over and over and over again.Seriously, I dont wanna know if my husband is cheating on me. I would not cheat on my husband, and that was how I slept that night

I woke up the following morning wondering how women over the years have survived it, because I know women who have reached the point in their marriages where they say " as long as he does not bring diseases home... he's the one that knows".
Maybe we are not meant to get married, maybe culture and society imposes marriage on us and in our bid to avoid the restraints and confines of marriage we show that we can break the straits and then we go out and have sex with other people.Maybe
Trust is something that is woven deep into the fabric of the marriage institution, when a spouse cheats, something cracks in that fabric and it's very hard to piece it together.
I need some form of reassurance that there are still men out there, who will be faithful yes "FAITHFUL".
Fidelity in marriage should not be overrated. It should be the norm!

Tribute to Emmanuel B

2009-06-22T15:04:00.000+01:00

I don’t believe that my “godiya” is gone
I don’t believe that I will dial his number and I will not hear that mischievous laughter
I don’t believe that my trips to Abuja will no longer have the zest Emma gave to them
But this is what I believe;

Emma, You touched my life in so many ways
You gave and gave and kept giving
I believe God wanted you with Him
I am never going to forget you
I hope that someday when I am gone
I will be remembered for good
Because I remember you, Emma, For good, only GOOD
You were a bright and shiny light
This light was snuffed out and short lived
But the memories of the light
And the illumination you gave in the short time will stay
Stay for a very, very long time

This is no mere Eulogy
This is a word of hope
For all who read
Let your light so shine before men
That they may see Christ in You
In all your ways acknowledge HIM
And HE shall direct your path
Live each day as if it was your last,
Have fun, make merry
Touch lives in the most positive of ways
So that at the end of it all
When we go, it would all have made sense

Emma,
I miss you so much,
I thought I would never get over it
I am not sure I have gotten over it,
But God has been faithful to us all
God has been our strength
God has soothed where we hurt
He has calmed when we were anxious
God has been faithful.
Rest darling, because you are safe within the bosom of our LORD Jesus

2009-06-15T23:56:00.000+01:00

Dear Butterfly,

be free, be full, be bright

let others your plummage sight

and thus be drawn to the Light

Swarovski

Adeola Taiwo

Love Kills

2009-06-15T11:30:00.000+01:00

You love me,
Yet you kill me
You want me
Yet you bruise me

You hold so tight
Its just not right
You see my plight
yet snuff my light

you do not care
I need some air
something so rare
Stuck in your lair

I need to be free
for all to see
my plummage
so full, so bright

Monday Morning

2009-05-25T11:40:00.000+01:00

I saw a rainbow this morning and it made me smile. I had been mulling over thoughts of how this week would be in my usual monday morning sobriety and as such something as "little" as a rainbow peeking behind the clouds was enough to gladen my heart.The beginning of the week for me is usually a time of sober contemplation. What to achieve, where to go, who would I run into? what did I have planned... in the course of the week is usually paramount in my mind. Most times I'm looking forward to whatever it is I had pushed from the previous week. Hence, monday mornings have this aura of purpose around them. There is a drive, a solem-ness( is there a word like that??) that sorrounds you on a monday morning.
This drive, comes from sunday night when you have to start picking out what to wear for the week, what is appropriate for what day and what is not! Then you fall into a fitful sleep, not sure you actually want the weekend to end but knowing inevitably that at the crack of dawn you need to get up and go!In Lagos, monday mornings are charaterized with heavi-er traffic than normal. There is usually the traffic jam of rush hour on every other day but monday morning just crowns it.It's even worse on days when it has rained through out the weekend and you have to swim through the puddles in the roads. The deep craters on the highways make it more diffcult for motorists to move smoothly.So, your week actually begins with you muttering on the failures of the government and the frustrations of living within a system where nothing works. Maybe for some people, it does not happen that way, but for me... my monday mornings are usually dreary!! I have to make a conscious effort to find something, anything, to make me chirpy, so when I see a little end of a rainbow, peeking from behind the clouds, it makes me smile. I rememeber that God is up there looking at me and saying, " dont worry sweetness, I AM here ALL the time, and I make all things beautiful. Even dreary mondays!!!"

At Rephidim

2009-05-16T08:18:00.000+01:00

There is a bible story that gets me everytime i hear it and it goes thus;
so some time many many years ago when the children of Isreal went to battle with the Amalekites( forgive me the need to give a background story)...anyway so the battle/war went on and on and the God says to Moses to hold out the staff in his arms and as long as he does that, the Isrealites will prevail. Now if you ask me, that's a tricky one because I'm thinking, Wow.. his arms will hurt but then Aaron is standing by, so they come up with this brilliant plan that Aaron holds up Moses's hands through out the time. and offcourse... God's promise comes to pass, so the Isrealites win... YAY!!!! You think right?? good! So lets look at all the glory and fame Moses would have gotten. Lets try and imagine some praise singers and all that giving glory to God and also saying a big big thank you to Moses for his stamina and the strength in his muscles. Right!!!

12 Moses’ arms soon became so tired he could no longer hold them up. So Aaron and Hur found a stone for him to sit on. Then they stood on each side of Moses, holding up his hands. So his hands held steady until sunset. 13 As a result, Joshua overwhelmed the army of Amalek in battle.

Every succesful leader in this world has an Aaron somewhere, supporting him and encouraging him, helping him/ her to maximise their potential.

I believe the real heroes in this story are Hur and Aaron. They are like the pillar the support needed.

Every human being is frail and as such needs another to go on. No one can claim to be all knowing and can do all. No matter how much of a star you are, you will at one point in time or the other need some support and it is this support that is the crux of my blog.

We need each other.
Many atimes we feel we are being relegated top the side, maybe at our jobs or in our homes or even among peers which we feel shoul not be so. Maybe its one of those situations where you feel you have not really done much but mop the brow of another person or get another person a glass of water, but you see, its those little things that make the big picture

Without you, there would be no real success. I'm sure many rememeber how Moses was able to prevail at Rephidim but would he in his human frailty been able to do it without Aaron??
So if sometimes you feel you are not recognized sufficiently for what you do? if you dont see yourself as a major player? always remember that without your support the team would not be complete.

Dont feel bad...you are perfectly positioned.Just like Aaron was, at Rephidim.

Red

2009-05-07T16:13:00.000+01:00

Something happens to me whenever I have a glass of red wine in my hand, I can not exactly place a finger to it and I can not aptly describe the feeling but it can best be described as " happiness" I hold on firmly to the stem as i swirl the contents in the glass, musing on life and on events around me. I have a clearer picture of things when I am in this mood, and like i said, i feel Happy!
But what does happiness entail really? happiness is something that eludes most of us as human beings. This is mainly because human beings by nature are not content with one thing and as such we end up chasing so many things at once (dreams) and never really getting the much elusive happiness... well except when you are slightly intoxicated like me.
The glass of red means alot to me, it calms me down, say for instance when I am nervous, i find some form of comfort.When I'm also too happy, I help myself to a glass, or two, depending on the happiness on a scale of 1 to 10. I guess this is how alcoholics feel in the early days, how they justify the need to slosh... or then,maybe not.!
I rememeber saving a bottle for celebrating the end of my Bar finals and I had kept the bottle for almost 6 months, with a plan to open and drink it all up with a friend of mine. Alas, on the last day of the exam while I was in the room waiting for my friend to come, she was somewhere so far away enjoying the bonfire night the student council had organised. So while waiting for her to return i started with the first glass, slipping as slowly as possible so that she could meet me at it. 3 hours later and there was no Boma, and the bottle was empty. I had finished a whole bottle of Red on my own. Ahh... even me i surprised myself! I ended up falling into deep deep sleep. Partly caused by the alcohol and partly because I had been sleep deprived for months, I had been running on auto pilot for months and I felt I needed to unwind.
But, I woke up and was terribly sick, gone was the ephemeral feeling of happiness. I had been thrilled and now here I was soaked in my own puke! ( I guess I must have over done it that day, or maybe I have a really low threshold for alcohol consumption) but my point is this, I took solace in something and I overdid it and the end result was not good at all.
Many times we have things which we turn to for comfort, something that takes us to our happy place, but then we end up over-doing it and we get the exact opposite of happiness.
So maybe moderation IS the key because, totally depending one one thing, one person, or one place as the source of your happiness will definately bring you unhappiness. (Ofcourse you all know God is the exception to this postulation of mine dont you?)
So I'm thinking, all this talk of red wine is leaving me with a craving... Cant wait to have my next glass off course in moderation, because I have learnt my lesson!

Law & Order

2009-04-29T10:26:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was a public holiday and the streets of Lagos seem to have a sense of sanity. The roads were free of its usual traffic jam and it looked peaceful. Looking from the 9th floor of a building where I went to work, it seemed almost surreal. Falomo round-about looked really sane, like a place where "law & order" was in place. I wonder sometimes if those two words mean anything to the average Lagosian ( those who live and work in Lagos). I've come to conclude that it doesn't and this is very saddening. It is especially so because now attempts are being made to bring some sanity in to the system, but Lagosian's doggedly kick against "order", its amazing. You walk into a bank where there should be a queue and you see like 6 people huddled in front of the counter stretching out their hands with their cheques and passbooks and all to the cashier and one just wonders how the lady/man is supposed to grow extra hands to collect from all the customers. What we dont seem to realise is that if everyone stays on the queue , everyone will be attended to.
Look for instance the people that drive against traffic a.k.a One-way, they run away from their own muddled-up side of the road and end up muddling up the other side. The police and the all other men-in-arms are even "guiltiest" of this. I sit on my side of the road wondering, when this madness would end, offcourse brought out of my reverie by the honking of a motorbike (okada) beside me.
I approach the red light and I see Lagosians flout every form of law and order there is. Last week thursday when I got off work,i plugged my handsfree into my phone, strapped my self into the seat and gunned the engine. The ride was a rather smooth one without the usual craziness of traffic on Ozumba Mbadiwe Street.As i approached an intersection, I slowed down at the traffic light, and waited for it to give me the Go! I turned left on my cue and next thing i knew, a commercial bus ran smack into me. For a second I had an out-of-body experience. You know one of those where you are seeing the unfolding events like you are actually not there. The guy ran the red light and there it was, an "accident" which resulted from disobeying simple traffic rules,no one takes cognizance of the fact that traffic lights are installed for the safety of the fellow road user.So, the guy incurrs the debt of fixing the car and I get the inconvenience of not having a car for over a week.
Sometimes when we refuse to follow rules, we end up causing more harm than good, not only to ourselves but to others too.
When the traffic management officials are not there, chaos rules supreme. Sanity and flies right out the window and road users become maniacs, each trying to push his way through like the rest of you have come to the road to stay put.
Take trash for instance, people toss trash out of windows like there is some invisble waste bin there just waiting top take it in, dropping plastic bags on the floor and ...wait for it.. wait for it.... digging through the deep crevices of ur throat to spit out the thickest possible phlegm you can find and ..'splat'.. on the side of the road!!! ARRRGHHHHH it just makes me cringe.

Rules, law, orders, those things are handed down to us by others for effective running of society, so why do we not follow laid down rules? ( and I say 'we' because I too am prone to disorderliness every now and then) I do not believe that we should rightly hold the totem of " rules are meant to be broken" like it's life support, rather we should all strive to do our bit, in making things work.
So next time you are on a queue, hold out till it gets to your turn, and dont shout at the cashier, or throw trash on the road. Let's make our society a better place to live in and for our children to grow up in.

My Dear One

2009-04-25T06:20:00.001+01:00

A beautiful Journey
A life to be spent
Holding your hand
Taking it slow
Knowing that,
however, whichever, whenever
You will be there

Every step, loving
Every day trusting
that no matter what
You will be there
and I will, too
That thought is enough
For us to make it through
This step taken today
by me and you

I love you now
I love u forever
I love you still
My exquisitely beautiful Bride
my gem in the rough

My unique pearl
Priceless.
That is who you are.
That is what I am honored to have.
Thank you for having me
my dear one,
Rare, Soft and Unique

Letting go

2009-04-16T13:11:00.001+01:00

I hold on to my anger
I want it to fester
I hold on for it is all I know
For ye though
I miss you so
I refuse to let go
Letting go will mean forgiving
Forgiving will mean admitting
That though I’m hurt
I may also have hurt
But I miss you so
And I love you so
And I am sorry...
So sorry!

Good measure, pressed down...

2009-04-08T15:13:00.000+01:00

You are taught very early in life that it is more blessed to give than to receive. You are told further that God loves a cheerful giver, that when you give it will come back to you. You are then told that when you give you get in return "good measure, pressed down and running over"
I have mulled over this thought over and over and I find that I am not quite sure of what to make of what has been handed to me over the years.
How is it that when I take out of what i have in my resources, then some multiplier effect comes into play and increases what i have left!!! plus while i am depleting these resources of mine, i am supposed to do it cheerfully?? it doesn't make any logical sense!!!
It leads me to try and unravel the issues;what is 'logical' and the full extent of this 'multiplier effect'
But it seems in matters of "faith" there is no logic or reason to be understood.. you just step out in the understanding that you are doing what you are doing free from any encumberant thoughts.

So why do we give?

I beleive we give primarily because we have to give, for it is a well known dictum that a man can not give what he does not have. We give because we are willing to sacrifice, we look deep within ourselves and say No to ourselves and Yes to the person we are about to bestow whatever it is we want to give. We give because we love, because love makes us do things we normally would not do. We give sometimes in anticipation that we would get back. We give sometimes because we have no other choice.

Whatever the reason we find that we give.. and I think that is enough because giving, for whatever reason is not a very easy feat. It takes a strong person to give.

It speaks of character, whatever kind of character ( for those who do it for not so positive reasons). It speaks volumes about you, because giving is an art.

We give various things,tangible and intangible objects. We sometimes give of ourselves and that to me is the greatest gift of all.
To give you... says "all I am and all i ever wanna be, Here, take it"!
Giving does have that multiplier effect, it makes you feel good, it shows you what kind of person you are and it tells you that you can be better than you are. You have given something that has put a smile on another person's face, lifted a burden and wiped a tear.
By your giving you have touched a life.
My conclusion, a giver is a gem... a rare one, because giving is beautiful.

Tick Tick Tick

2009-04-06T17:46:00.000+01:00

Have you ever stopped to watch a ticking clock? it just goes on and on and on and doesn't stop! That is what happens when we are born, we just keep living till we die. It is what we do in the time that we are alive that matters.
I have always wanted to know how to play a musical instrument, nothing fancy, I guess the Piano or the Organ would have done quite nicely, but I never got around to learning. In primary school I learnt the notes "EGBDF" Every Good Boy Deserves Favour... I knew they were notes, but I never knew how to combine them to make beautiful sound.
Last night I went to see a concert, GF Handel's Messiah and a performance of his Passion of the Christ. It was simply beautiful. I was lost in the beauty of the music and the combination of the violins, Cello and Double bass was simply indescribable. I was there with my first love, MUSIC and I could not stop wishing I could be part of the whole thing. I wanted to feel the keys of the piano as i produced that lovely sound. I wished my fingers were plucking away at the strings of the violin, I wished that I stretched my chords to the heavens and released that beautiful music.
That was as far as I could go with the wishing because i knew that there was something I could do more than wish... I could learn.
So thinking, what are those things I should learn how to do, things that would give satisfaction... this is not exactly like a "bucket list" this is a reflection on the things I should learn to do while I have time.
Time just has this annonying way of flying.You wake up one morning and you are 30 and the last time you checked you were solving sums in Lacombes... It is truly creepy.
The most important thing is this, "do whatever you can do while you are young and you have time, for when your fingers are all old and knobbled to may no longer be able to plunk the strings of a guitar.
For now, I'm going to register in a class where I can learn Music, A voice training class, a diploma in music, something! Something to make me feel I did something worthwhile in my time here, so that when the clock stops ticking, I can smile and rememeber the notes that made up the ticking clock!
Tick tick tick...

2009-03-28T06:20:00.000+01:00

One of the beautiful things to appreciate in life is dawn. As i lie here on the parade ground ( this was written originally around 4 am on the 18th of march 2009) it is dark and the only thing I can see in the expanse of the sky is the moon.
The shape of the moon is more half moon than crescent. The highlight of the crescent is truly beautiful. It strikes me as a half slice of pizza, tempting and inviting you to reach out to it!
The canopy of the sky is littered with stars, shiny dusty speckles up there.
As the dawn breaks into daylight the stars slowly fade out, I am saddend to see them go but I notice I am able to see clearer, the outline of the man infront of me is more visible. I feel a tug in my heart as the darkness fades away and the light takes it place. The moon is still there as it has not given way to the sun.
I lie back wondering when the sun shall graces us with it's glorious prescence.
The sky is now bluish gray with smattering touches of pink. The gray highlights are from the clouds as they gracefully enter this stage. This canopy of light, colour and beauty.
I'm trully awed by the awesome power of God.
It is now 7 a.m and my Pizza slice moon is still visible, but here comes the most beautiful thing of all time... as the slice slowly fades awat it is looking more like a crescent and it is right there on the left side of my canopy of nature. On the right hand is a great ball of light. It is Orange and it is bright. It is slowly climbing up to take it's place. In it's full glory, the sun is rising.
I do not believe I can fully describe in mere words what I am seeing and experiencing.
As i watch in amazement,I see a juxtapositon between nature and man-made. I see the sunlight peeking from behind a tree, but then i see a power pole right beside the tree. The cables all strung across from pole to pole and then this bright light overshadowing it all. The light of the sun effusing really brightly behind the tree and the pole.
I couldn't have asked for a better way to start my day!

These things we do

2009-03-02T00:12:00.000+01:00

Being single evokes a lot of feelings in me. This is partly because a lot of times I am thinking about how to get married, when to get married, why am I not even married!!! blah blah bla... and so the thoughts go on! Then somewhere along the line I ask myself, " So when you are married gaan sef, what do u now want to do" then I reply myself and say " then I can start my life"
But the truth is not a lot of women who get married have the desired effect they hope marriage will give, not a lot of women actually "start" their life in that sense and this is because women marry for various reasons.

Some marry to escape the pressures of their father's houses and end up finding out that men are the same everywhere, whether they are your parents or they are your husband! They are just "lords" in their own homes.
I have heard scary tales of men that beat their wives,men who are downright lazy and have just no ambition that you have to keep carrying them along, men that leave their wives for no reason, men who get drunk consistently, men who have absolutely no regard for their spouses!!!
Ah these men are everywhere, their ages range from 25 to 75..Yes!!! they are everywhere!!
I dont know the specie of men i fear the most; the one that has no ambition, or the one that has too much of it and will try to push me farther than I can go.
Then I stop and think, there are those women who get married because they are getting old.. yes I said the dreaded word " OLD" and they just need companionship. They envision a man growing old with them and holding their hand as they walk through the sands of time. But pray tell, what is companionship with a man who will never stay at home, or when he is home he drives you to your wits end!!!! Will it not be better if you were alone?
What about men that will not help around the house? they are the ones who cry the loudest that they want you to give them children and they are the ones who do not lift a finger in the work that comes with raising children??
Why do we do these things?
I know of a man who has refused to learn how to drive. You may think this is not a great issue but it is. It is such a big deal. How on earth will a man not be able to drive his family to places?????It just plain rattles me. There is something about getting behind the wheels and driving, it speaks of taking charge, it speaks of giving direction, it speaks quite loudly of what position the man has chosen to take in the family. He is more comfortable in the passenger's seat while "madam" ferries him and his children across the city.
So what happens when they are at a party and they need their car to be moved, then "madam" gets up to go and move her car out of the way??? It is just so unacceptable in our culture. Do you know what society is going to classify the woman as ? it will be said of her that she has 'used' the head of that man.. meanwhile no one is using any one's head.. the man is just plain lazy and doesn't wanna learn how to drive!!!!!
Please man who does not drive and has refused to learn, don't sit there in the passenger's sit and teach me how to maneuver the car from left to right or my head would just explode!!!!!!
So these things we do, wishing for men, wishing they would marry us, wishing they would stay with us... why do we do them??
Why do we wish for what may invariably shorten our lifespan?
We seek the ever so elusive "few good men" and when we dont find them we settle for the next best thing!
Because for whatever it is worth we need them for there to be balance, ( annonying though it may be) there is something in the touch of a man you loved( or have chosen to love) that makes you forget his inadequacies.Why is this so?
Don't ask me.. i don't claim to have all the answers!

A friend once wrote that she would like to have only sons, because she wants to be responsible for bringing some good men into the world. I laughed when i read it but I realised that in a way, our men are all flawed and it was our duty as mothers and mothers-to-be to bring up nice and decent men. Yes, good, decent,responsible men!

ife!

2009-03-01T13:59:00.001+01:00

There is a phenomenon which plagues the world,
It is probably the worlds most favourite one.

It is this strange pulling at ones heart which one feels towards another.

It is so strong it makes men do things they never would have, it makes women weaker than ever.
It generally makes you realise you are actually capable of more things than you actually thought you were.
It is deep, it is strong, when it latches onto you, it doesnt let go.

It is seen in the eyes of a mother, when she looks at a child which was just brought forth
It glistens in the tear we shed for a person so recently departed to the afterlife,
it is felt in the warmth of embrace of a man to the woman he intends to spend the rest of his life with.
It is evident in the face of a woman whose best friend has just helped out of a tight spot.

It is everywhere. Like air, you really cannot do without it

This thing called love,
it brings out beauty in blemish and radiates perfection in imperfections.

Dawn

2009-02-27T08:43:00.000+01:00

As I lie awake in the wee hours of the morning I am just grateful to be alive. have played absolutely no part in the process of falling asleep and being able to wake up again.But somehow I am awake. It is definately God!!! I am not one of those people that say "oh .. some higher being up there".. Nope.. It's just God in HIS great AWESOME-NESS. My thoughts slowly drift from the Supreme Being to what lies ahead of me today. The weekend is about to start but the feelings it evokes are not one of relief but the fact that there are so many things to do with so little time to do it... like making my hair for starters. I have been thinking about what to do to my hairlike its some life changing decision. I dont want to stay too long sitting at one salon having the skin of my scalp( is there anything like that??) being twisted and turned into all shapes and things, at the same time... i wanna look nice!!! Go figure... No Pain No Gain .. isnt that what they say? As i type this i am expecting some rush of enlightenment as to what to make but ..inaaa( as the hausa's say) Nothing!!
The next thing that flutters around my head is the kind of despair that awaits me in the NYSC orientation camp. I have prayed it away, I have willed it away, I have cursed it away, thought it away..a nd i am just one step away from writing a petition to the House to have the whole process scrapped but alas, all to no avail. Come tuesday I'll go to Iyana-'paja!!! Argghh!!!
Why does everyone keep saying i'll get used to it like ill get used to lack of civilization. Argghhhh!!! Do they make beasts out of men in those camps?
I try to find a lighter thought... tick tick tick... still scanning for a lighter thought but none seems forthcoming. NYSC has ruined my morning bliss. Maybe I should try and sleep again. Slip back into the cover of oblivious bliss till sunrise, reality, work and its demands.
Yes i guess thats what i'll do. Pray to God for sleep.

The joys of Talk

2009-02-26T09:24:00.000+01:00

Sometime in my earlier adult life, I had a BFF!! Yes what some people call best friends foreva a.k.a bestoes! She lived less than 10 mins away from me and we would stay on the phone talking for hours.. yes literarily HOURS!! the part that amzes me the most about it is that somewhere..3 hours into the phone call she would say " do u know what... I'm coming to ur house" and i wonder.. why did we run up all that bill on the phone if we were still going to see that evening or even the very next day! We talked about everything from politics to bad roads to .. yes you guessed ..BOYS!!! ahh the joys of talking about boys and which one we wanted and which one we did NOT want!!! (i digress...)
..but this is what I learnt from that time... Communication is the best thing in any and every relationship! Because there is no way you can know about the other person except you talk about what is going on with the other person.
There is no other way to be better friends, better colleagues, better mentors, better lovers than by communication. Sometimes its easier for both parties to talk for hours because it makes the relationship healthier. Imagine how it would be if all parents were best friends with their kids, do u know there would be little or no family issues?
When was the last time you talked about an issue you have with someone??
It is very healthy you know...
I wish for the times when i can talk with my BFF for hours but i guess i will have too just take what i get with some 5 minutes here or there.
The important thing is....
Talk!!!!!

Tidal Roll

2009-02-25T17:47:00.000+01:00

Over and over I find myself sitting around waiting for time to go by and when the time flies i knock myself for not doing things i should have done with that precious time!
But in those moments the thoughts that go through myhead are countless, sometimes they are so jumbled up i can barely piece them together. I think of who i would have been had i not been born to my parents, or perhaps what I would be assuming I did not take some decisions I have taken in the past. Offcourse these thoughts are of absolutely no consequence since I have absolutely no role in changing the past, so why dont i leave them there... in the past where they belong?? I have come to the conclusion that they help me remain conscious of the fact that I am still alive and for some wierd reason I'm really scared of having Alzheimer's when I am older so i guess somewhere in my sub conscious I'm thinking thats like oiling the wheels of my memory.. huh? that doesn't make sense one bit but thats what I think.
So what else do i do during this wheely neely time? I think of love. I think what it would be so staggeringly in love that I would be breathless!! you know, real time actual breathless and I wonder if I would ever feel that way, I guess that stuff is made for only the movies.Somewhere in these mindless maze of mine I am jostled back to reality, real life calls ,work is dropped on my desk and there.. I have to face my work and what i have built all those my decisions up to!!
Some weeks ago I found a photograph that was taken at a career day in my montessori class, apparently because of my extremely chatty nature I was channeled towards the legal direction, decades later i find my self doing exactly that... Legal Practice. Do I find fulfillment in what I do? I have absolutely no idea, but whenever I look at that photo juxtaposed with a photo of me in present time i want to struggle to make it worth it!
Is there a general purpose to life? Maybe over al there is.. we just have to find what it is...Have i found mine? I am not sure I have but ...,but I am sure that give or take a few more hours of wheely needling i would find it.