This is my mind....

I am sad. I say this not because I want your sympathy, not because I choose to or because I feel the weight of the world across my shoulders. I’m not God and no way do I wish to take on the responsibility that is entirely his alone; the weight of the world.

I am sad because earlier this morning on twitter I came across a tweet on my TL, TimeLine, of a trending topic that left a sour taste in my mouth.  When virtues that the society should uphold and defend become a point of stigmatizing people then I really can’t help but be worried about. 

"#youlookgoodbut you are a virgin...waka abeg..”  

Maybe it was meant to be funny maybe not. I have unfortunately taken it personal. Not against the person who tweeted it, not against those who laugh at it (I believe they do not know better) but against those who are in the know but who play the ‘dumb card’ when the issues of morality and wantonness, are raised.  Now I ask myself is this worth getting worked up over? And I answer it myself ‘yes yes yes’.

When we begin to make nonsense of the values that the society is built on, when we throw caution to the wind and embark on senseless journeys down lanes of moral decadence then I am very worried of what the generations of my children and children’s children will have to live with as values that shape their society.

When a young girl cannot be bold enough to declare her virginity to the pride of her family and a young boy will finds it cool to brag about the number of times he has had sex with or without ‘protection’, then I am worried.

A young girl goes out and gets pregnant for a man who it turns out is her father; it takes a twisted turn because the mother told her that her father was dead. The mother had been raped as a student in secondary school, yet she was kept the baby despite the stigma associated with having children out of wedlock, and now she is shamefully being accused of being the cause of her daughter getting pregnant for her father. I SO DISAGREE. Why couldn’t she have kept her thighs shut and waited till after marriage before going to bed? How much trauma she would have saved herself and her family had she but wait.

I won’t belabour the point. I have made one that even the blind can see. And I do not ask that you support or not. But I do ask of you to reason with me ‘what kind of earth do we long to leave as a legacy to our children?’ One where lewd and distasteful remarks would take over as commonplace while right thinking is placed on the back burner?’ I hope not.

This is my mind... What is yours?

*Waka – Keep moving

*Abeg - Please

Just do it...

A few nights ago, on twitter, was quite an interesting one for me. Some of my former students joined the band wagon of trending topics and it was fun having them tweet about some of the things that happened way back when they were in secondary school. How I had sent them to the principal and gotten them flogged (no point sparing the rod if it would do them good), pinched them (my favourite punishment), and how I was their best teacher (just hope it was not ‘psyks’).

I haven’t seen a lot of them in 5 years and haven’t spoken to a large number of that lot in almost as long. Yet it was gratifying to have them air their thoughts of way back, especially since there was nothing I could do to them now that they were no longer my students, the majority of them being third and fourth year students in their different universities. What can one do to ‘young adult’s when they decide to go ‘freestyle’ and drop all manners of bombs? Nothing I can guarantee you.

And such is life. How many lives do we touch along our journey through this life? Do we make ourselves an effect change agent by living in such a way that when people look up to us they long for the best in life?

I was speaking to one of them about a month ago, and he was really excited, as I was, shouting over and over that the reason he was studying physics in the university was because of me. Another had told me earlier that he was studying Computer Engineering because of me. Well as exciting as that would sound, and yes it really is exciting, nothing compares to the fact that years after we had parted ways, we can still see each other and accord each other the respect that is mutual and real!

Why do I say these things? Maybe because now I know that how well we relate with people that we are responsible for would to some extent affect their perception towards life is. Not that we are responsible for all their choices, but we have the responsibility to help them see all the options and encourage them to make the right choice, again and again.

As someone rightly pointed out if death is as glaring as it is according to the scripture ‘I have set before you life and death, therefore choose life.....’ (Paraphrased), asking us to choose life would be an unnecessary use of the word. It therefore goes to show how we must keep iterating what we believe is true and hold on to, to them as much and as long as we can.

The fear of being seen as unreasonable will eventually give way to a heart of appreciation. As one of them wrote ‘me and @sheyhunsays were never friends’, would eventually give way to you still being someone that would be described ‘as the ‘bestest’ friend and teacher’ by another, several years down the line.

We would all keep making mistakes along the way; how many of those coming after us benefit from it and are able to build the next level of their lives without re-inventing the wheel, is worth considering.

@sheyhunsays – my twitter handle.

Twitter – a social networking site

The War of Art

We are not born with unlimited choices.

We can’t be anything we want to be.

We come into this world with a specific, personal destiny.

We have a job to do, a calling to exact, a self to become.

We are who we are from the cradle, and we’re stuck with it.

Our job in this lifetime is not to shape ourselves into some ideal we imagine we ought to be, but to find out who we already are and become it.

If we were born to paint, it is our job to become a painter.

If we were born to raise and nurture children, it’s our job to become a mother.

If we were born to overthrow the order of ignorance and injustice of the world, it’s our job to realise it and get down to business.

The War of Art

Steven Pressfield

Are people still nice?

This would have been a question I would never have giving thought too, but awhile ago I had a reason to fully appreciate the ‘niceness’ of people.

I went out with a friend’s car to help him out with a few stuffs. And the car decided to show its superiority in terms of ability to sweat me out. All of a sudden the car stopped right there in the middle of the road! What the heck? I thought to my self. But even before I could phantom what the problem was I got someone, without even asking, who volunteered to help push the car. And he did. And I thought that was the end. How wrong could I have been? That was just the beginning. But I was so determined to get the car home that no thought of giving up crossed my mind.

And so the story continued till I was almost home, about some 12km, and caught in a slow moving traffic, when again the engine died. I’m sure now that you are wondering why I didn’t get a mechanic or a towing truck. Gosh! Don’t even go near that. This is an emerging economy and so things like that don’t work so easily. Not with the traffic and all constraints to getting a towing truck to you on time. And there is the ‘Area boy’ (a nomenclature we use to describe all manners of vagabonds, and miscreants, who will, if you are not careful, stylishly and boldly relieve you of any thing that they can easily make off with.

Now it was getting late, when this nice clean Camry 2005 model, slowed down and one of the occupants asked 'what is the problem? 

‘Wish I knew’ was the reply I gave. They moved on with the traffic a little and I thought that was that till the guy that asked the question came down from the car and came back to me. At this particular time I was no longer thinking about the car but about the fact that someone that I didn’t not know would stop in his own track to help me out. Really that was a major energy and morale booster. 

Well he couldn’t do much but the decision to help was really a life saver.

I did eventually get home even with all the stress from the car. But I still can’t help thinking, people really can be nice.

Excellence

Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellence, a joy of many generations. Isaiah 60:15 (Webster's Bible Translation)

Excellence is defined simply as being of outstanding quality or merit by the dictionary of current English. Excellence comes from your commitment to getting it right.

And as it had been from the beginning when God finished with the work of creation and He saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good, begins to illuminate our steps with the manner of excellence that we ought to show.

Let us step back a bit, as though to peep on the work of creation.

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And the story goes on till the third day after he had done with creation for that day he said to himself, this is good.

We can only begin to revel in the words of this scripture when we understand, that prior to this very point, nothing that is being revealed had ever been before. Everything was the concept of one mind, which even the hosts of heaven could not fathom. And as he peeled back ignorance (unawareness) after ignorance to reveal what could be, creation, as was then, stood back in awe. For never in their minds, note even in a million years or the entire length of eternity, would they have begun to understand the extent to which the Very God of Very God could impose His will on the temporal.

And so it continued to be an awe-inspiring sight as He made the fourth day to pass before Him and the fifth and when they came to a close, they were as they had never been before. Yes he created the fountains and the mountains and the springs and the brooks.  And the earth swelled in pride and burst forth with green blades of grass, herb yielding seed, and the numerous fruit trees yielding fruits after their kind, in response to the sound of the voice that everything created and uncreated hears, and comes to attention.

And though there had been days counted according to the times and season of man, who as of yet had not become, He made the lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night, so that could be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years. And it pleased Him yet as His creation gave ear to His desire.

And the Waters got their instructions and they began to creatively put together all manners of DNA that was vested in them from their own calling forth. From fishes to fowls of the air did the waters bring forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that it was good.

But He wasn’t satisfied just yet. For in Him everything that was to be had already been completed even before He opened His mouth and began to give voice to the expression of His heart. 

For by now, creation as it were had begun to see a pattern to what the owner of the heavens, and the earth desired. For how could the waters have brought forth the fishes, in their various sizes, for they yet were unnamed, and the earth be stayed from yielding her first produce? For it was it not inherent in the earth to do such? And so out it poured forth the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his kind: and the hosts of heaven could not contain their delight at the works of His hands. For there in each proceeding work of creation, was the revelation, one glorious sight after another, of the intricate mind and purpose of the great God.

But yet he was not through, for all that had come before this point, were all a build to this present moment. He had planned and fathomed the entire needs of this yet to be created, very image of Himself: a creation so very much like him, that to be called Lord of the earth even as He was Lord of the heavens, was a befitting title.

And so God created man in his own image, in the image of Elohim created He Adam; and in saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth; He gave them the same mind that was in Him. He gave them the mind to purpose a thing, and be committed to seeing it through to the end. And when he stepped back to survey the wondrous works of His hands He was well pleased and said to Himself, this is very good.

He did not take lightly the work of creation but made sure to supervise every detail in the process. His mind was one; that everything that was made, is very good.

And back again into the present we see more clearly, just as the father sees. For we have the mind of Christ, who was conceived of the Holy Spirit which was from the beginning; before time began. We have the same spirit that was with God; that is God.

Here is the truth. From the very beginning He has set a standard for us to walk in. Look up! Rise up! Excellence is your nature. The Entire creation awaits your manifestation; you are the joy of many generations.

You Are!

Where is the love?

People killing people dying

Children hurting hear them crying

Can you practice what you’ve preached? And that you’ll turn the other cheek?

Father father father help us send some guidance from above

Cos people got me got me questioning ‘where is the love?’

These are words from a seriously popular song. And for the first time, I’m actually listening to the words of the song not just hearing them (or is it the other way around?) and I can bet 20 bucks (just joking o!) that the words are references to people that call themselves Christians. Or maybe it’s just that the words bite hard at us especially when it doesn’t seem as though we are affecting the world we live in any way.  Or how else can we begin to explain such strong and true words that brings to the fore our responsibilities as representatives of God. He obviously thinks so or why then should the bible say we are ambassadors therefore on behalf of Christ (2 Corinthian 5:20). If that be true, then we are obviously not representing the interest of the one we claim to represent. Simply put, we are refugees(?) in a land where we should thrive as God’s handiwork recreated in Christ Jesus unto every good works (?) eph2:10

 “Where is the love?” I didn’t mean for you to ask the person next to you that. What I meant was for you to ask yourself what motions of love has proceeded from you today? Ok maybe that’s asking too much. What about in d past seven days? At least you should have done something that even you should be able to gleefully clap yours hands and pat yourself on the back. Opps! I have to say this if you really felt good about yourself. “Shame on you”. What else for someone who thinks that he/she has done good? It is incredible to begin to imagine the extent to which we can reach our world with just a little bit of love. A little bit of patience to the other driver (for those of us that drive), some care and concern for the less privileged rather than hoarding all our wealth or spending on things without long term value. I can almost hear some self righteous pips telling themselves that these is no problem to them and I say great. Must mean that you’ve got the13th chapter of Paul’s 1st letter to the Corinthians about the attitude of love all figured out.  What a joke!

But I desire above all things that as we get into the ride with Jesus our daily walk gets better and better till God is seen walking the earth through us. For how else can we reach our world for Him? How can they believe that which they have not seen? Not till when our attitude, our lifestyle and passion, brings to live the truth of God’s word. For God is love.

A Night to Remember

It was on a night like any other, or so it seemed, and I had just gotten unto the last bus that would take me to the bus stop closest to my house. I was in at the back of the fourteen-seater bus; an older man joined me, and then the lady whom this story is about showed up at the door of the bus with a supposed escort.

She really looked old; somewhere above 70 years, maybe even closer to 80 than 70. First, it was her difficulty in climbing onto the bus. I really had to stretch from the one end of the back seat where I was to aid her. Good thing I did because she ended up sitting just about three inches on the seat. Initially I thought that it was old age, how wrong I was! Yes she was old, but I realized soon that she was ‘blind’ in the darkness of the night. This became most apparent when she brought out money to pay the fare for herself and the ‘supposed’ escort. She brought out a thousand naira note and gave it to the escort who told her the denomination, paid the conductor and collected the balance on her behalf.

Soon the bus was on its way. She was the first to stop and by then she had missed her stop by a good three to four minutes by the speed of the bus. So when the bus eventually stopped for her to alight she just couldn’t figure out where she had been dropped. Getting off was another issue. She carried her bag, just like any other woman would, and then there was a heavy carrier bag that she had which made her attempt rather clumsy and awkward.

That was when I decided that I had to do something if I did not want to spend a long time afterwards, which could run into days or months, thinking whether she got home or not. So off the bus I got, telling the already bewildered co-passengers that I would help her home. It was as though they had never heard anything like it. And it was really a great risk for me because kidnapping is a common thing and I would not last ten minutes if they decided that I looked like one who would abduct, for whatsoever reason, this old lady.

I tried to get her on a tricycle-like motor that is used locally for transport. It was not going our way but was gracious enough to point us in the direction to head. And on we walked for some ten to fifteen minutes. I held the bigger bag in one hand and guided her with the other.

She talked about where she had been, and had she known it would take so long getting to her last stop she would have stayed the night. I asked her if anyone would be worried about her at home. Guess what; she had worried them so many times than she could number. She grinned when she said this. And her English was clear and flawless. ‘Oh what a sweet old lady’ I thought to myself. She had gone visiting her grandfather’s place!

After sighting the landmark she mentioned, I got her to describe the house and I was most confused to find out that it was the best looking house on that street. I wondered again how she got out or who let her out in the first place. But she looked like one hell of a fighter for not once did she feel sorry for herself going through all the stress.

After I had helped her into the compound I took my leave. And though I tried to get a bus to get me to my destination, I didn’t succeed and had to do the 45minutes plus, trekking home. But it was well worth it because I felt so light having helped someone out. Secondly, I could free my mind from worrying about her - whether she got home safely or not.

------

Happy Birthday to my Bos... Mayokun olatunbosun Sanni. Many happy returns.

Being Young should not mean being stupid

It is a Saturday and I just got back from visiting with a young friend who by the way was one of my students from my days as a teacher. (I should tell some of those stories soon). On Saturdays, I like to sleep in and rest do laundries and general housekeeping that don’t get done during the course of the week and just laze a little and get some of the energy back that was spent during the week.

We had gotten talking and over a period of a week, preceding this visit, he was able to talk me into coming over to see him. As I hadn’t seen him in about four years it was not so tough for me to go check him up, and give my day of rest.

Getting there was not bad because traffic was light. One of the reasons I like to not go out on weekends is the nasty traffic you have to face. ‘Even on weekends?’ you may ask. YES!

It was nice seeing him. He had of cause grown bigger than the last time I had seen him I teased him about not being as tall as I am. He smiled and puffed up telling me that he was still growing. At what age I asked? He said it and I asked him about what he learnt in his biology class and how that measured to what he was telling me now? He said he still had a tooth growing. Well that got me.

At his place we got gisting trying to catch up with the years that had gone by and how far he had come. Interesting was the fact that though he had not gotten into school when his mates and friends were getting into school, now in his second year he was doing great. With a grade point of over 4 and closer to 5, I was extremely happy for him.

So we got talking and the talk drifted to some of his other friends. Some of them had gotten into school before he did, some just about the time he did. Some had had to take prelim courses to get into school. The shocking things were the tales he told of how some of the guys were now big time drinkers and smokers not just cigarettes but also hemp to say the least.

The incredulous look on my face was definitely obvious because he asked me a question that I had only just recently come to terms with. ‘Did I think that they would stay the way they were back when?’

I didn’t know how to go about answering initially. But I said to him. I know growing up is experiential and you will want to try out a lot of the things you hear or see on TV. But, I said to him, there must be a limit that you set else u would just find yourself going beyond the comeback zone.

So when he talked about some of his friends that I knew and who were close to me, and how they had gone off, it was a big shock to me. I was familiar with some the parents and majority of them are unaware of what was going on in their children’s lives.

That got me thinking about when they were in school. The majority of those having issues were those I had spent quite some time with telling them about life. How life was not easy, about how life would take its toll on them if they do not put themselves in a stead that would allow them take from life what they deemed fit for them.

It was painful because these guys are like my brothers, friends, even sons. And every time I talked to them it was always to have them ask when I was getting married so they could get their suit and be part of the grooms men. But as I sat with him and talked and reminisced, I had to let him know that it was painful to be privy to so much information and not be able to do anything about it because they were all young adults and had their own lives to live.

It is amazing what we do with our lives when we think we are young. How we just throw caution to the wind and think that we would always be young forever and our parents would always be there for us or think that we would always have it easy because the world is rosy and all that. And whilst we are being stupid and silly people that know what they want out of life dig in their heels and they just don’t let go.

And after several years have passed we look back and then we are like ‘what did I do wrong?’ At that point it is always so difficult to understand why we didn’t just do what we were supposed to do. I worry a lot about our young people about how they waste their lives and how they don’t think that what they do now computes to what or who they eventually become.

It is my heart desire to always be able to talk to young people, share my mind with them and tell them the truth about life; that life sucks. And you have to be able to give it everything it takes to get out of it everything you want. Life would give to you only what you demand of it.

Well, one can only do so much. I just continue to work at being the best that I can be so that I can encourage them to be the best person they can be. I hope that for them, they come to the early realization of what they require of life and be ready to go after it with guns blazing.

What is there to fear about fear?

Fear is probably the one thing in life that we would never truly win the war against. But really why bother about winning the war when you can successful win the battle each time it arises?

I remember when my paternal grandfather died. I was just eight. And that was the first time to lose anyone that close to me. (We will fast forward to the burial to save you from the agony of the unnecessary narration.)

The day before the burial was of cause the wake-keep. And grandpa’s body was laid in state for the last time; The casket was left open the entire night, for whoever wanted to pay their final respect.

Not me. Not because I didn’t love my grandpa, well the concept of love was really vague to me back then, but because I was scared shit of seeing dead bodies. I was growing up afraid of the darkness and sick people. Now knowing that grandpa was dead, at least I understood that to mean we won’t need to drop our voices or stop running around the house because he was sleeping, and that he was laying there immobile and stuffed all over with cotton wool, even though I had played in the house all day before the casket was brought in, I moved my playing outside and kept it there the moment I sighted the hearse that brought the body in from the morgue.

The wake-keep service ended and yet I would not dare go in for the fear of catching sight of the body. So I was outside in the huge compound feeling lonely because even my brothers and cousins were much too busy indoors to have time to play with me, outside.

Eventually, I was coerced to come through the back stairway to the house. I managed to dodge the living room where he was laid because there was a door from the outer part of the house through the dining room to the back of the house to the stairs and up.

Everything was okay till I remembered there was something I need to do downstairs, or so I must have thought. So I strode towards the inner staircase and took the mighty steps down. Halfway down, I realised my silly mistake. Right there by the side of the staircase was my grandpa in ‘Sokoto and Dashiki’ looking regal but stiff, and wool sticking out of his nose.

I am sure you are asking yourselves how I managed to comprehend that sight if I had been afraid all evening? Well I don’t know but that very instant I nearly went into a seizure of sorts as I flew back the way I had come and out into the veranda shaking like a leaf in a storm. It wasn’t funny then and just thinking of it now still doesn’t make it so.

Well I have flown a few more steps because I had seen a few more before I was ready. And ‘Am I ready now?’ Really cannot tell. But having my maternal grandma die right in front of me has given me a whole new, enlightened if I may say, perspective to living. Watching her take her last breathe and just giving everything up, was for me an awe inspiring moment.

So the fear of death is gone. But I still have to deal daily with the fear of Living; of not Living LIFE!

*whatever*

I feel inclined to write, hopefully, this short piece of art, that’s how I choose o view my writings, to prove to no one in particular that I can still do it whenever I please.

The topic on which I should write then becomes a little bit contentious. Oh and that is not because there is nothing to write about... You cannot live in a society such as ours, Nigerian if you are international observer (chuckles), and not have at least four things or the other to preoccupy your thoughts enough to fill vast pages of books. And though I often try not to be bothered with the technicalities, o yes, of living day to day in such an environment, the practicality of such thinking is far more onerous than imagined.

So why don’t I just write on something that is not so relevant to my existence… But looking at it I bet I will only end up talking about issues that plague our country. Well let’s talk football, soccer if you want to be ‘tush’

Why did we have to drop out in such an unfashionable manner whilst Ghana will go on to win the 2009 championship? Why would we field players above twenty in a tourney for under twenties? Why would the jerseys of our players have just numbers and the names be omitted? Why should we continue to mouth-of as a ‘footballing’ nation when all we can do, at the very best, is drop out in the second round? Really, I’m beginning to sense that I’m embarking on a torturous journey that would only reveal more and more the depravity in our society. And that is a trip I choose not to take. So you can if you so wish, try and unravel the ‘JAMB’ questions and if you do find an answer that is justifiable, I’m willing to listen if, and only if, your answers have sufficient clarifications and do not have the tendency to lean towards the ‘Nigerian’ factor. I know enough about that to not want to hear it being said too much any more.

As I watched the Ghanaian boys put up a very impressive game against the Brazilian boys, and I thought they really looked under 20 compared to our boys (sorry men!) that were fielded who, sincerely speaking could not have been any day short of thirty, I was really hoping that the shift of focus from Nigeria is not being totally completed by the showing of the Mensah boys. First it was the discovery of oil and their plans to ensure that the likely scenario of our Niger-Delta does not ever happen, then the elections that took place in such an orderly manner such that the 1st black president and the number 1 president, if I am allowed to be so brazen, would bypass the most populous black nation and the number one country in Africa (only in the minds of some tired Nigerians) and stop for 24 hours in Ghana.

And now these nicely branded, well dressed boys doing the unthinkinable.

Of course it would be impertinent to think that they just arrived here. That would be just what those in the ruling class would want us to believe: To forget that some years ago Nigeria was the place of refuge for those who fled this same Ghana when their economy was ‘trash’; to forget that it was the critical decision of the ruling class in that country to make a change that began the rise to fame of that nation... That the collective oneness of the country as kept them going only stronger whilst we grow weaker due to our laissez-faire attitude in putting our foot down and nipping the wrong in the bud, and I’m not just thinking Boko Haram or the Niger-Delta rebellion. That is going too far!

Let’s just start where they make the laws or probably if you think that an ambitious project, start in the rock house - Aso Rock.

All the talk of fight against corruption has remained just that - talk. Talk, however, is very cheap. And the effect of corruption has crept into the one source of unity this country knows, soccer. I’m not even going to allow myself to be tempted by the thought to go on and speak or write about the influence of corruption. If you can’t see it – guess what? You are living in denial. And that is none of my business.

Like I said earlier all I wanted to do was write and I have written. And now here, I rest my case.

Time heals, it does not erase.

Breakfast was supposed to be in bed at 7:20am that morning but it was never meant to be…

The memories of that morning  remains with me, though it happened quite a while ago. The thought of it always brought the tears to my eyes. A sad reminder that even the steeled heart has its break point. But today, today is special…

Today is the fifth anniversary of baby’s passing, a date only to easy to remember for it was also Ugo’s 12th birthday; same age they were. Sometimes it feels stupid, even sissy to have allowed myself to be sucked into the whole thing called love. Shit... It only opened you up to hurts and more hurts. It was so much easier to just be by yourself with no attachment to anyone. Much less a frail looking lad like him. Yes, go on, you can think whatever you want to, even say it out if you’ve got the balls, excuse my pun, but it is only so easy to despise the seemingly weak. Gosh!

It’s been five years of almost daily remembering the one person that almost single handedly turned my life around. The annoying thing is that his face is almost fading from my mind. I never thought that would happen since I always will want to remember him just the way he was before he went and took the long sleep that my calling out to him never had any effect like it did when he was alive.

Looking back over these past years at the writings and penciled, mostly penned thoughts that have been influenced by him, seeing his friends going on to the university and all that, knowing that he is in a much better position and place, is the only consolation for the soul that never wanted him gone, at least not before me… and that not till way into my late 80’s.

The shouts and the screams of the boys woke me up from the sleep.. Yep I had planned on sleeping in a little longer but that too was only my imagination playing well into the future. He’s been taken to the hospital I was told and frankly speaking how I arrived at the place without crashing the vehicle remains a miracle. But the previous night was the last I would ever see him alive, *sob*, though it wasn’t the last time I’ll talked to him. I howled at him, begged, bargained, and then more pleading but he was way too gone to answer me. I knew though that he was in there somewhere just looking at me with a sad miserable face! Almost wanting to come back...

Ha! I can just here you say wacko! Bloody hell, you can call me whatever pleases you… Opinion is like an arse-hole, everyone’s got one. Meaning even the dumb fool (yuck!) will give his if he ever gets an audience. Lol! At least now I can laugh at myself with regards to him but loosing 4-5kg in a week was the most amazing yet despairing singular event of my weight life. That was the week he died…

I won’t go on and bore you with my typed thoughts. It’s true that the ones we love never really die; they live on in our hearts. He came, he witnessed and won, all in the space of ten months; no wonder I still believe he was really an angel and was never meant to be here for too long anyways. Or how else do you describe one who cared more for the comfort of others than he did for himself? If you have got a better choice of noun, please, fill me in.

“I hope you smile more often now? And just in case you still wonder if I really meant those things I used to tell you? You bet, I meant every single word! And thanks too. You are one heaven of a guy... Miss you still.”

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That was written exactly one year ago. Today marks the sixth year of his passing and Ugochukwu’s eighteen birthday. Even as I celebrate with Ugo, Hugo as he calls himself, I am no longer in mourning but it is a day like no other that I will remember for the rest of my life.

The fools paradise

(In his parlor, soliloquizing)

Me? Slapped?

Me? A whole me, slapped

Not even by a man

Oh, we would have racked it out

But a woman? A woman slaps me?

And then not even a big woman at that

Not even rich or on the big side

No! That would have been something

But by a woman 4 feet and six inches tall climbing on a stool to reach my cheeks

She said I owed her

What if I did?

A miserly 50 naira

And then she gives me a slap!

(Friend Enters)

Friend: Ojukwu my friend for life

The one who will not take nonsense from anyone

The one with temper like that of an angry lion

Ojukwu, the three in one man

(Ojukwu does not acknowledge greetings)

What bit you? Or as the sharp witted one lost his tongue?

(Still no replay)

Are you Ill or have the gods fried your brains?

Ojukwu: May the gods fry your brains 2 times over and then mix it with two gallons of water in that big head of yours. You wretched grandson of a cow!

Friend: Thanks be to the gods! So you are not brain dead after all. What is the problem my friend?

Ojukwu: The words will be too heavy for your dull ears to understand.

Friend: Try me

Ojukwu: Ok! I was slapped

Friend: So?

Ojukwu: Won’t you allow me to die before you bury me?

Friend: Sorry o! please go on

Ojukwu: Owootori slappede me because of 50 naira

Friend: (laughs and laughs)

Ojukwu: Go on laugh. Show the world you have a rainbow colourede set of teeth.

Friend: (trying to control his laughter)

I’m sorry . I just couldn’t help laughing. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. That the great Ojukwu, the one who has no time for nonsense, could be slapped by no one else but owootori. That maltina sized bottle sized woman? Even the gods would laugh’.

What did you do?

Ojukwu: Nothing

Friend: What?

Ojukwu: I said nothing. Or is it the ear that is aching you that directed towards me?

Friend: Ok don’t worry about it. If the great Ojukwu could be slapped and the heavens did not fall after all, we must celebrate.

Ojukwu: May rats celebrate your stupidity

Friend: Come with me. I’ll buy the drinks. I heard mama Kunle has just been supplied fresh palm wine

Ojukwu: You should have said that before you started jumping about like a goat in heat

Friend: Let us go

(They exit the stage)

APPENDIX

Owootori (meaning hands that do not reach the head) – it is a Yoruba (west African tribe) word for a midget, dwarf.

Ojukwu is an igbo name (west African tribe) that is synonymous with strength/warrior.

50 Naira is approximately 33 US Cents

Gold or Not Gold

Yesterday I made a startling discovery – well, till I get the verdict from an expert on in a few days at least. Back to my discovery: I found out that my precious wedding rings are not so precious; I had been under the impression that I wore 18-karat white gold rings and was jerked awake from this dream so very rudely. 

I was still trying to recover from the possibility of having bought white gold-plated yellow rings when I was told that they could actually be rhodium that was plated with white gold! Rho-what?! I was mortified and still am!

This brings to mind how much importance we attach to jewelry, and by ‘we’ I mean men and women; contrary to the popular belief that women are the only ones obsessed with jewelry. I know for a fact that both men and women obsess over wedding rings being gold and all that, but the truth is: most times, nobody knows what you are wearing but you. And hardly do they give a hoot! Asides that it polishes up your own ego.

Now, I am a fan of jewelry that lasts for life and you do not have to give it any particular care except for occasional polishing. But why so much ado if it is possible to buy gold-plated rhodium with a chance of never finding out and everything you were taught to look out for, like the 750-inscription, could be put on any metal at all (even in Dubai)! 

I choose to take the fact of this discovery as a sign to wear gold on few special occasions. Wearing gold wedding rings is absolutely fantastic if you are certain there is no bank-breaking involved. I say this because obviously some people cannot afford it but still go ahead for appearances, what they need to know is that there are other options that are just as beautiful. 

And for all my lady-friends who would spend insane amounts of money on gold jewellery rather than invest in people and family or at least their businesses, and in some cases owe to be able to afford it, think again! For all you know, that precious ‘gold’ may not be real!

Desola Abayomi-Sosan

dessyjewel.blogspot.com

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What can I say? I couldn't wait to spread the 'news' the moment I saw the tag in my facebook. Now, you would be wondering 'what could have happened?'

'Did they buy a fake?' Or 'was it really an honest mistake?' Well, I can confidently guarantee you that it definitely was not the first. The other question would be 'why can't they go for the jugular of the person from whom they got it?' Well, for one you don't want to start raising some soot that may just leave you in more despair than you could possibly fathom. Asides the fact that that person could also have been swindled, this kind of situation in Nigeria is too far from the date of purchase for any possibility of a money back. The thought of even trying to get your money back alone is a joke. This is 9ja.. Perish the thought! 

Lesson given. I hope it will also be lesson learned.

I Am....

And there I was watching the notorious film and then it struck me, again, what difference real friends make. Just think about someone giving up his life to go to jail so that you can go out there, discover who you are and soar? Crazy? Maybe, but that is such that I crave for.

I don’t know if there are many people like me who just want to live their lives believing that true love can happen to them. I really don’t know what has got into me that most of what I think about is how to be a good friend and how to have friends that love and appreciate me as much as I do them. It’s not like I can’t be all by myself, no sir, but I find myself thinking more about being with someone who shares my passion and convictions about what we are here for, what life is all about, what we can do for each other and how we can nourish and bring out the best in each other.

I never would have though that I would ever be like this; clingy of sorts. Maybe I am not clingy. Maybe it is a phase in my life that I really need to have someone to share my deep feelings with. But what if I chose to spend it with you...Would that be ok? Would I remain your friend even when I am not there or would you always seek for a way for me not to be around you?

It’s so hard sometimes just thinking what you think of me. And then I am wondering if ever I will wake up from this dream and find out that all I have thought about is just a fairy tale. Like one of many we read about that are a just that... stories!

I really want to just be myself. A better version of what I am now. Someone who knows to say the right words, who knows how to love right, who is always there for friends, who never ever forgets why he is here and what he is meant to do. May be my ideals are way to preposterous, may be I only see what I choose to see... may be? But why can’t my ideals be the real thing? Who says that I can’t have all that I dream of? Who says that I can’t choose my friends, and be with them who I am when I am all by myself?

I am who I am.

I am Oluwaseun Akinola Dawodu. 

Getting on

The weekend was anything but great. Not bad but far from what a great weekend should be. It was nothing really except that there was no added value. It was just a boring weekend filled mainly with tweeting and fbing (facebook). That is no definition for great; at least according to me.

Well, it has come and gone and I must be getting on with life.

The more I think about life the more I wonder if we will ever get the hang of it. Sometimes I wonder what I would really miss if everything just ended and guess what? Nothing. Maybe that ain't so true 'cos I am going to miss my family, a few friends and really a lot of my mentees. And hopefully the other way, too.

My life is really very simple. As simple as they ever come. And it is only getting simpler. How you may want to ask. By getting rid of all the un-necessaries. Like what? Like a whole lot of baggage friends that add no meaning to live except take away from you.

I'm learning to major on the major; my family and those close to my heart (and of cause those of whom I am close to their hearts) and give less and less consideration to the minor. This was really a hard one to sell even to myself. Why? Because now everyone says you are proud. So? Now I have to work on their perception cause that is what sells and how the h*** do I do that? I talk with them when I have to but seriously going out of my way to help people to whom I mean little is becoming less and less of a norm.

Life is beautiful and I plan to enjoy it. At least now I can say that of life, I think I am starting to get a hang of it.

What are you doing about your life?

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

 Maya Angelou

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I dedicate this to you 'P'; you have loved the poems just as much as I have. Thank you.

And with this I will rest, for now, posting of my top favourite poems. Cheers!

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate,

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us

Your playing small does not serve the world

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

So that other people won’t feel insecure around you

We were all meant to shine as children do

It’s not just in some of us it is in everyone

And as we let our own lights shine

We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same

As we are liberated from our own fear

Our presence automatically liberates others.

Marianne Williamson

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I heard this first in Coach Carter (go watch if you haven't) and I just couldn't resist going back and back more than a few times just to hear the words, and the delivery was perfect too, again and again.

It blessed me and helped me to open myself to the greater opportunities of life by growing into a much better me. Hope it does for you too.

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
And if you dare to dream of meeting
Your heart's longing.


It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
For love, for your dreams,
For the adventure of being alive.


It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
If you have been opened by life's betrayals,
Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.


I want to know if you can sit with pain,
Mine or your own,
Without moving
To hide it or fade it or fix it.


I want to know if you can be with joy,
Mine or your own,
If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.


I want to know if you can see beauty
Even when it is not pretty every day,
And if you can source your life
From God's presence.


I want to know if you can live with failure,
Yours and mine,
And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes!"


It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
Weary and bruised to the bone,
And do what needs to be done for the children.


It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
In the center of the fire with me
And not shrink back.


It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
From the inside
When all else falls away.


I want to know if you can be alone
With yourself,
And if you truly like the company you keep
In the empty moments.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

-----------

This speaks my mind so loudly that I can almost go swear in court that the 'whoever' stole it from my mind. Yikes! That doesn't count for intellectual property stealing I guess? So I will just content myself to just make some noise about it.

Counts for another of my favourites.