YOU ARE NOT SNOW WHITE'S STEPMOTHER

I was at the mall a few days ago and I saw a white family; a man, his wife and son. This kid was cute and big enough to even carry a baby brother or sister, if he had any. However, his parents apparently thought that he was pram-worthy so he sat comfortably as the Nigerian housegirl pushed and pulled him around the entire mall. That’s not the point. The point is that the said housegirl looked scrawny and scruffy and of course very sad as she did her job. Well, that’s not exactly the point again; it was apparent that the girl was not well taken care of, as if the racial contrast and class difference were not obvious enough. I was mad. I mean, what was that all about?  My friend couldn’t understand why I was so irked. Maybe it’s the fact that lately, there’s been so much tension surrounding white dominance and the devaluation of black lives to them. Maybe it’s because I looked at the white woman and saw Snow White’s stepmother. I’m sure the parents of the poor girl gave her up enthusiastically, thinking that having their daughter work for an Oyibo man would bring them some fortune. Just maybe…Maybe she’d be looking healthier if she stayed back in the village eating fresh fruits from trees and drinking spring water just as it flows from the belly of rocks. Amidst my complaints, my friend asked me whether I had not seen Nigerian women whose house helps looked just as bad. I knew she was right but this scenario seemed much worse to me at that moment. Somewhere in my head, I blamed black people for treating themselves with so much disdain that these people thought it was okay to treat them in the same way that they treat their brothers. I was so mad because it was so obvious that the poor black girl meant absolutely nothing to them. Again, I blamed us for saying to these people committing so much crime against ourselves that justice is now defined as “crimes against us”.

Today is not for talking about how our skin color makes us seem like better slaves than CEOs. Or how they think we are better off with no air in our lungs than walking on the streets our ancestors worked on with backs bleeding from the whips of white Lords. Today is not for that. We will today talk about mothers who see beings less than human in the faces of other people’s children. We will talk about a practice that is perhaps even more common in the African society than in the western societies.

First of all, I do not want to see your house help and know that that is exactly what she is, except of course she’s putting on a well-tailored uniform with an apron tied to her waist. I do not want to see your kids wearing smart clothes while the fruit of another’s womb is clad in rags as she caters to your munchkins. I do not want to see your children having skins as smooth and glossy as magazine covers while another’s walks around your house with bruises and cuts from your belt or shoes. No, I do not want to look at you and see Snow White’s stepmother because you know what? You are worse than her simply because you are a real life monster human being and she’s not.

I do not what to understand why you would knowingly batter another in every way that you can just to highlight the already present truth that he/she can never mean as much as your kids (who by the way are spoilt) to you. Why would you see the poor and uneducated as a threat to you and your oh-so-royal family when you do not give them the tiniest opportunity to get to where you were ages ago? Why do you feel the need to see another tremble and shudder before you? Are you Karashika? Oh!! And why have you forgotten that what goes around comes back around? Like why will you treat an orphan with so much undeserving hate, forgetting that if you and your husband get hit by a truck while doing your love thing on the streets, the baby in the pram would have the same cross to carry as that battered maid pushing the stroller? What point are you trying to make?

In civilized countries, the average person does not batter their maid or nanny with khoi khoi shoes or with the buckle of their husbands’ belt. They do not go around buttering the private parts of their house helps with pepper because the kids did not eat at 7pm, after the poor housegirl might have begged them for 2 hours while taking the insults being hurled at her by your pretty little darlings. It’s a shame that among ourselves, we create terror for reasons more subtle than skin color. Even that is not enough to treat another like a creature from hell else everything we are hearing today would be justified.

There is no reason…none at all…that makes okay to treat a human being as anything other than that. There is no justification for maltreating your domestic workers just because it feel right to you. Slave trade was abolished for a reason. I am not saying you should take all the crap that these workers bring with them, especially in the African society, I’m saying that you should be civilized while dealing with them. If you’re going going to spank a child for doing wrong, do it as though he/she were your own. Don’t buy your dog KFC chicken while your domestic help feeds on your children’s leftovers. For the record, I knew a man like that. And please, don’t ask your housegirl who weighs less than 4 boxes of cereal to cart around a child who weighs more than a sack of rice and is old enough to wash his socks. He’s not crippled for a reason.

Mothers must learn to do these things right or else their daughters will learn from them and a vicious cycle would be triggered. Charity they say, begins at home. If we are going to fight for ourselves at the global level, we must learn to defend and protect ourselves at home. There is much more beauty in a world filled with kindness and good deeds that reeking of rancor. I know we all want to live fairytales but I think it’ll be better to emulate the sweet-natured princesses or the gracious fairy-godmothers rather than the Ursulas and Snow White’s stepmothers.

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I really want to hear what you guys have to say about this one. Kindly drop your comments below and thanks for stopping by. Cheers!

MORE THAN OXYGEN

It is more than sucking in invisible air.

It is more than the force that keeps the heart pumping.

It is more than flaring nostrils to acquire gases that will sustain you.

It is the romance between elements, and more.

It is the breath of God running through us.

It is more than just oxygen.

It is more than the bi-products of plants

It is more than the gas that flares up fire.

It is more than the air that fills the cylinder by the bedside of a dying man.

It is God saying “No resource is a waste; the plants don’t want it doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

It is the element without which the soul and spirit would be homeless lot.

It is life travelling up tubes struggling with the death trying to claim the sick.

It is more than just oxygen.

It is more than a colorless, odorless gas.

It is more than just a component of water.

It is more than the 20 elements chemistry students sing about every day.

It is more than the emptiness you gulp as soon as your face rises above water.

It is more than just air as we call it.

It is the power of God made alive in us.

It is the most basic example of how purity enlivens a body and even a soul.

It is the most fascinating instance of God’s love for us, freely given and never ending.

It is the peace of God reinvigorating our being continually; Take a deep breath and tell me you don’t feel it.

It is God’s simple way of saying “I am essential”; If you can’t live without His breath, why do you think you can live without him?

It is God saying “My breath is soluble. No matter what, you need me to be.”

It is the facet that underlines our existence as gods made after His image and likeness.

It is freedom thriving in its most fundamental form, swimming into bellies and exuding verve.

No matter how you look at it,

It is more than just oxygen.

AVOIDANCE AND IDENTITY WAHALA

Let me start by agreeing with @tilola; Misery is having a story with no medium to tell it or no audience to tell it to. I have been miserable. The mouth in my brain has been itching to say something but my fingers have refused to do their job. They haven’t found the keyboard attractive lately. That’s not the sad part. The disheartening part is that my blog traffic has experienced a slight drop. From where I stand, it means that I’ve been leaving my readers out in the cold and some have decided to stop knocking on my door. I apologize immensely. Please come back oo. Without you, there’ll be no blog; I might as well read my pieces on my laptop while imagining voices in my head saying, “Oh my goodness! You’re such an amazing writer”. If you guys want me to employ a doorman, I will.

So I’ve meaning to do this post for some time now. A few months ago, I wrote an article for to do this post for some time now. A few months ago, I wrote an article for YOU MAGAZINE. The item was about “the dos and don’ts for a first date”. It was a decent piece. I didn’t say anything you haven’t heard before. There was recurring talk on being modesty, dressing right, not having sex on the first date, being yourself and blablabla. When the edition was released, my sister called and was gushing about how she loved the piece and how my parents taught it was cool. Since, everyone was cool with the article, I relaxed and forgot about it. I was in school at that time so the editor sent copies of the magazine to my house.

On getting home, it was one of the first things I was shown. I was glowing with contentment. After a few days, my mum called me for one of those disturbing heart-to-heart talks. My dad was present as well. At that point, I knew that something real was about to go down. The conversation started with questions on the next step I would be taking with respect to my career. In response, I dropped the bomb that I wasn’t interested in getting a masters degree in econometrics which my dad has always dreamed about. I did not get the outburst I had expected. My dad just went cold and quiet although I’m sure the Nigeria-Biafra war part 2 was going on right inside of him. My mum was obviously bothered about something less trivial and so didn’t stop to process my lack of interest in “our dream plan”.

Mum: I heard you are now a professional writer and that you even write on the internet.

Me: Emmmm….Yes ma.

(She gives me that downward yimu that Nigerian mums come up with when they mean to say “hmm! Okay oooo” *note the tone*)

Mum: I saw the article you wrote for that magazine. I’m not saying it wasn’t nice o. As a matter of fact, I was so proud that I took it along with me everywhere I went, but after reading it over and over again, I stopped. Yes, I stopped. Writing is very nice but one must be careful about the style of writing she adopts, especially a young, unmarried girl like you. See that your magazine article baa, I did not like the style. You had little business writing about something like that. Don’t you know that people reading it will be thinking that this girl has “experience”. Ehen, they’ll be thinking that you have experience and it’s not good for your reputation as an unmarried well bred girl. You can write about these things after you have gotten married and had kids.

At this point, my head was spinning. What does “experience” even mean? How does writing a decent article about dating lead to the conclusion that I have a wealth of sexual experience or that I have dated everything that owns a pair of boxers? After all, my only reference to sex in the article was a ‘don’t’. At first, I wanted to get mad at my mum but I realized that I she was only trying to protect me from the society and its identity wahala. A society that judges people based on baseless assumptions. A society that is quick to draw faults out of the well of people’s actions and pure intentions. A society that devours you while pretending to save you from drowning in the sea of its own shallow minds. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the situation.

I know that it’s probably justified to evaluate people based on the proceeds of their thoughts but if we are gonna do that, then we must take a critical look at the whole picture. We must consider the motives and the exact message that the writer intends to pass across. People need to stop helping others think. A person is only responsible for what he says; you are responsible for what you make out of the speech or writing. Like Chimamanda Adichie says, “A single story will create stereotypes and the problem is not that stereotypes are untrue, but that they are incomplete”. I mean, you can’t go around thinking that Nazzy is some kind of slut because she wrote an article on dos and don’ts of first date. It’s just plain stupid and illogical.

One thing that has battered many individuals and households in African societies is the issue of “avoidance”. Avoiding the truth, the unconventional, the awkward facts, will only drive us towards lies. There’s no solace in running from the truth and hoping that bumping into it tomorrow will not wreck your world. We live in a social order where people make every conscious effort to stay away from issues that are inevitable, in the bid to… Honestly, I don’t even know what the point is.

Parents won’t talk to their kids about sex because, well, it’s a sin and at the end of the conversation lurks the devil waiting to send you straight to the abyss. The first time I used the word ‘sex’ in a sentence while talking to my mum, I almost threw up in my mouth and it was obvious that she felt uneasy as well. Why is that? NEWS FLASH: There are bad friends, pornographic sites and movies and let’s not forget terrible house helps who are willing to “educate” your kids on your behalf. Oral tradition in Africa has worsened the issue; there are a thousand and one versions of what would happen to you if a boy touched you, literally. Even if these dudes are some kinda King Midas that makes everything they touch pregnant. Let’s push sex aside.

There are a whole lot of controversial and sensitive yet important issues that should be talked about. Your ability to relate to these things especially when you learn from other people’s stories and experiences is what gives you a complete story which is a stronger platform to build your life on, than half-baked single stories.

Recently, a young boy had a boil on his penis and came to me complaining about it. What caught my attention was that he did not refer to his penis as one but as “toto”. I asked him who had taught him the word and he said it was his mother. When I confronted her, she said I should leave the issue alone because the boy wasn’t old enough to know what a penis should be called. Before then, I had no idea that one had to wait till a certain age to be able to name some of his body parts. I had no idea that knowing the name of a part of one’s body could corrupt their mind. Now this kid will have a new revelation of what his penis is when he “finally grows” and of course, will experience changes during puberty. He may tend to be more curious about that part of his body than he should and might be misinformed in the process of trying to figure things out. I’m not a psychologist; I’m just saying. We hear these kinda stories about parents trying to protect their kids from things that they do not need protection from. Information is power, remember? Teach all that is true about a thing and in it will come the wisdom to do right by that thing. It’s simple.

When we avoid these issues, we give the victims the luxury of excuses to justify their shortcomings. When we avoid these issues, we condemn people who fall prey to these circumstances to a kind of isolation; a place where they are held bondage by their fears because self-expression or even a quest for solutions is forbidden by those who feel the need to nurse their self righteousness and hypocrisy. When we avoid these issues, we place a film over them; they become obscure grounds and people are misguided by barriers that exist only in their heads. When we avoid these issues, we exacerbate their repercussions while concealing the certainty of their occurrence. When we avoid these issues, we ignore those who are right in the middle of issues like sexual abuse, abortions, rape, homosexuality, domestic violence, female gender mutilation and a host of other “unholy issues”. What exactly are we trying to avoid by avoiding these things? When did hoisting a flag of ignorance become a criterion for dubbing a man righteous?

It is for the sole reason that a free mind today is regarded as wild, while feigned innocence is regarded as purity. After that talk with my mum, I considered opening another blog where I could write anonymously and possess the freedom to talk about any sensitive or controversial issue I deem fit. But no, I don’t want to be a faceless voice. I want you to listen and remember my face whenever you reminisce over my words. I don’t want to be the person that hides from the truth she speaks because people might think she’s probably lost her womb for writing about issues like abortion, or that she’s not wife material because she’s bold enough to speak against domestic violence. There is no honor in doubting your own words just because others believe in theirs. Let us drop the quest to be identified in “a certain way” that conforms to “a certain way” at the expense of a credible society.

I want to hear your take on the issue. I believe its something many Africans can relate to.

Cheers!!!

GREEN BLACK GREEN

GREEN, BLACK, GREEN.

How else can the singer sing?

How else can the writer write?

How else can the angry people demonstrate?

How else can we say what we’ve always said?

How else can we cry since reddened eyes, sore throats and bowed heads haven‘t said enough?

Silence…

Have you ever thought to give me an answer?

We are liars.

The flag has made us liars.

There is nothing green about a land covered with the brown goo of decaying bodies.

There is nothing white about souls that have lost innocence and water themselves with the tears of men.

There is nothing green about a land whose rivers are stained red with the blood of men whose sins were their attempt to do well.

There is nothing white- pure- about leaders who protect their children while the children of the poor are left to cannibalistic men like them, as prey.

There is nothing green about a land whose people have the same skin color yet find themselves repulsive because of more subtle differences.

There is nothing white about the soot-stained hearts of people who thrive on the ashen state of their neighbors, bruises of their wives and frustrations of their husbands.

There is nothing green about a land from which kindness seldom sprouts; a land dominated by the vices springing up everywhere like brown fungi.

There is nothing white about corruption; its blackened claws shredding hope, dreams and lives.

There is nothing green in this new kingdom save for the vegetation whose leaves are slowly turning yellow and brown.

Perhaps, for the sake of lifeless trees, we should let the green in the flag be.

There is nothing white at all; nothing white about a nation whose people’s words and actions scorch each other’s faces like the sun rays as they fall through the depleted ozone layer.

There is no white at all for even hope and the clouds are being darkened by unearthly sin.

The land once filled with the scent of innocence as little boys and girls played is now overflowing with adults whose fangs and hands are bloodstained.

How did we let all that purity be eaten up by greed, corruption, death and war?

It is time to wash our linen clean.

Let all the tears and blood rid the land of the filth that destroys it.

Let us cleanse their souls with our thoughts and actions.

Let us give those who died unjustly the justice of making their sacrifices good.

Let us salvage hope and feed her strong, wretched as she may be.

Let us fight until we can look at our flag billow and feel pride instead of the misery and guilt that we have thrust upon ourselves.

Let us become what we lie to the world that we are.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY NIGERIA!!!

Cheers to "a brighter future"

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Don't get me wrong; I'm proud to be a Nigerian and I'm glad that things aren't worse than they are. I just think that sometimes, we need to tell ourselves the truth and stop celebrating mediocrity and things we know we don't have. Maybe today's for sitting down and thinking about what you can do to make our home better. Maybe today is for swallowing the hard pill so that tomorrow can be better.

GOLDEN MORN

Like an enemy trying to overthrow a fortified wall,

The light pushed against my closed eyes.

I could almost feel my pupils constricting… shuddering at that golden force.

My face felt pleasantly warm and I assumed those were the sunrays washing over me.

I let out a silent scream; a yawn, betraying my fatigue which was ironical since I had been in bed all night.

I finally opened my eyes and just like in fairy tales, a little white bed sat on my window sill chirping away a tune I had never heard before.

The leaves on the branch just outside my window were clothed with the morning dew that escaped to the ground below in steady drops.

Termites that would have had me disgusted suddenly looked regal as they marched in a train up the tree, carrying bits of what I couldn’t really make out.

A moth flew by and I could almost swear I saw specks of color.

“Now my head’s really messing with me” I thought as I snapped out of my daydream.

I soon relaxed again after I remembered that today was a holiday.

The churning of copiers;

The absent-minded flight of papers;

The groans that accompanied the stretching of tired workers;

The sound of the pen tip on a desk as my boss asked me silly questions to which he already had answers;

All that would not interrupt the serenity that came with this beautiful day.

I looked outside again and began to watch as the rays from the rising sun turned the surfaces of cars into mirrors.

The cars that sped by carried a blur of reflections that intrigued me.

I wondered why I had never noticed all of this before.

My eyes caught a cloud shift and just as I looked up at it, carefully avoiding the sun itself that was gathering strength with each passing second,

I felt a brush on my back.

“Are you alright” my wife asked

Her voice was low and throaty. It sounded like a groan only it was sweeter.

I looked back at her.

She sat up halfway with her elbow anchored on the soft mattress as it gave her upper body some support.

She wasn’t insanely beautiful but she drove me insane anyway.

Her extremely full afro looked like a halo with jagged pieces hovering over her head.

Her dark skin glowed and her bare lips stayed slightly parted as she stared at me with what I can only imagine, was worry.

How couldn’t I be alright?

I was falling in love again, just like I did every morning. I could never look at her and not fall in love over again.

I caught her hand as she reached for my face, kissed her palm and drew her close.

She sat still, her body perfectly curled into mine like the right piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

It was different. This morning was different.

On every other day, I fell in love with Muna but it was as though the elements were never in support.

The birds never helped me sing her a song.

The termites never went on a parade.

The moths never thought to look beautiful.

The sunrise was too soon and too bright.

She never sat still in my arms looking into my eyes as though she were searching for some lost treasure.

There was never the time to notice that my wife of ten years still smelt of crisp apple and vibrant poppy just like she did on the day she said those first words “Clumsy idiot” to me.

Or maybe I never noticed.

And then she did what she always did.

She heard it; the voice in my head.

She read it; the words my pupils heard. She always knew.

“Give it a title” she whispered.

“Huh?” “Give all of this a title”, she replied as her lips twitched with subtle amusement.

Just as I was about to reply, we heard a deafening honk.

As we both turned towards the window to see what the intrusion was, we saw a large van.

On it was a huge picture of a little girl smiling heartily as she ate every Nigerian child’s dream cereal “Golden Morn”.

“That’s it” I laughed. “’Golden Morn’. This is the perfect golden morning”

She let out a husky laugh. “Is that ridiculous or what!”

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I apologize for not being here. I've been really busy, but I promise it's gonna get better. I cannot possibly turn my back on you guys. Yes, my readers are that amazing!

P.S- I wrote this for my 'bowl of marshmallows'. At first, I thought this piece was somewhat ridiculous but he said it isn't. Plus, nothing's really too ridiculous to be said. [Let's not even start analyzing that statement]

P.S.S- Don't leave this page without dropping a comment. I always wanna know what you have to say. 

Have a wonderful weekend

TO MY BOWL OF MARSHMALLOWS...

Not many flaws are tolerable but when an imperfect being births a near-perfect story, you begin to see how inadequacies don’t matter.

When you let go but don’t hit the ground, then it means you’re flying; humiliating gravity.

I still don’t know the word for it but with you, I feel free and I haven’t hit rock bottom. That has to be a good sign because I feel like I’m shaming all my low expectations.

You’ve taught me a great deal and because I’m not about to let your head burst, I’ll tell you the simplest of them.

I have learnt that friendship is arguing even when there’s nothing to argue about just because both of you feel like yelling is the best way to say “I care”.

I have learnt that friendship is accepting silly names like Naaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzz, My Gee, Nana and Ogbeni just because for some reason, your friend finds them endearing.

I have learnt that friendship makes you do silly stuff like chase a guy around the mall for a hug just even though you’ll get to see him in a couple of months.

I have learnt that friendship is when the only name that makes sense for your friend is ‘marshmallows’

I have learnt that great friendship makes you forget why you ever thought words like trust and loyalty were ridiculous.

I have learnt that you can’t be that ‘normal’ you in great friendship; you have to be the ‘better you’ whether or not you consent to it.

I have learnt that in great friendship, distance and time are nothing but meaningless English words.

I have my doubts not because you’re horrid but because I ask myself if anyone can really be this nice.

I don’t know how your ear drums deal but I really appreciate your listening to my rants and husky laughter.

I don’t know how you manage to see through me but I appreciate your always being there with the right words, jokes and expressions.

I don’t know if you really are a magical mirror but I like who you tell me I am.

I don’t know if it’s a spell but I can’t think of anyone else who has made me guzzle a lifetime number of questions in six months.

I don’t know how you got me to write this silly thing but my hands are glad you did.

I don’t know why but I’m willing to be that friend that your kids call to complain to when you and your wife are being annoying grinches.

I don’t know what else to say since you practically bullied me into doing this piece but I have to say that

      I CARE ABOUT YOU (22x) and I LOVE YOU FROM RAPUNZEL’S SCALP TO HER HAIR TIPS, AND BACK (22x).

      YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTELY AMAZING PERSON; YOUR HEART HAS TO BE MADE FROM CHOCOLATE, ROSES, GLITTERS AND WELL…BLOOD. (For some reason the bizarre analogy above feels right. Shhh!!!)

      YOU ARE FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH POTENTIAL AND CHARACTER; FIND YOUR PURPOSE AND HONE THESE ENDOWMENTS.

      IF YOU WILL SEARCH GOD OUT, YOU WOULD FIND THAT ALL YOUR DREAMS CAN BE ANSWERED PRAYERS.

      I HAVE NO REGRETS IN BEING YOUR FRIEND. I HOPE I’M RIGHT CUZ IF NOT, YOU’LL MAKE ME HATE MARSHMALLOWS AND THAT ALONE IS A CRIME.

HaPpY BiRtHdAy MaRsHMaLlOwS!!!!!!!!

God Bless You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Have A bLaSt!!!!!!!!!

P.S- SINCE I’M NEVER THIS NICE TO YOU, I THINK YOU SHOULD PRINT THIS OUT, LAMINATE IT AND STARE AT IT FOR THE NEXT ONE YEAR CUZ I JUST RAN OUT OF NICENESS!

GROPING FOR A MAGIC WAND

When it comes down to it, I do not believe in fairytales. I don’t because despite the need to believe in them- to at least put a damper on the harsh realities of a world laced with scary stuff like ebola- they seem too far away. I know that all fingers are not equal but why should I be the one to have the little finger? Do you see where I’m coming from? Everybody tries to dissuade me from having fantasies that spice up my desires because they seem to be sure that I’ll eventually be disappointed when I don’t get them meanwhile someone somewhere has that same thing as his/her reality. I really do not understand why having a primal need to satisfy some desires I consider basic are always made out to be building castles in the air. It irks me that whenever I relate my desires or aspirations, there is always someone to point out how unrealistic some of them are and to what extent I’ll live an unhappy life when eventually I don’t get them. I don’t get why I can’t be one of the few that actually dream, believe and achieve. After all, there’s hardly any wish that has never come true before in some era or form. Why does everyone try so hard to make you believe that wanting a good thing is wanting too much? Has the world and its people deteriorated so badly that shooting stars have ceased to be awe-inspired because people are sure that no matter how much luck hovers around them, a wish made on seeing a shooting star will never come true, not even by coincidence.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I can’t help it. I can’t help stopping my imagination from running wild or my heart from racing after it. I can’t help seeing a huge conglomerate when I think of my career. I can’t help seeing a tall, hardworking, god-fearing, sensitive, ambitious guy when I think of my future husband. I can’t help seeing a hundred postcards crowding my refrigerator from all the places I’d have visited. I can’t help imagining my kids to be awfully cute and smart with dimples and who knows, maybe that photographic memory Lexi from Grey’s Anatomy has. I can’t help thinking of wine, chocolate, sweet scents, roses, silk and cuddling when I hear the word ‘romance’ although the average Nigerian man might not even know that those things mean anything at all. I can’t help seeing myself as some “Nazzirella” sometimes. I just can’t fight the pure magnificence that these day-dreams spiked with little wishes try to sneak into my very ordinary life in which I’m being forced to always be prepared for gloom rather than for splendor.

This has little to do with idealism but I refuse to accept that I can’t possibly be one of those people that stand as exceptions to all the ugly life stories flooding walls of fame. It is pretty much ironic because I have really had very rough moments years and many might be of the opinion that I should know better. Perhaps I do. I know that there’s no rule that says I have to wallow in difficulty just because the planet needs someone with whom it’ll to prove others that this isn’t Disneyland. There’s no rule that says things don’t get better and stay better, at least for a good measure of time. For me, believing that luck, purity, dream-come-trues and just a little magic are non-existent is just surrendering to defeat. I see all the evil floating carelessly and dropping unto the laps of unsuspecting people but for the sake of my sanity, I just have to believe that there are magical ways devised by forces of nature that tilt that scale just a little in the bid to create near-balance. I just need to live without fearing that death could snag me the next minute even though I know that that is an inevitable fact. I need to find happiness and freedom in my thoughts without being reminded every time that they might not be potent enough to become tangible tomorrow. I believe in the God who says that the desires of the righteous shall not be cut off; He set no boundaries to that. Now note that there is a line between a mere fantasy and desires but there are no limits to both. Wisdom is profitable to direct.

Who shares my sentiments?

The Person We All Need

Everyday I sit down waiting for 'inspiration' like we call it.
I sit waiting for it to creep in with the morning mists or drift in with a fluffy white cloud shaped like a unicorn.
I sit waiting for some magic to possess me and tell my fingers what to say when all around me, the voices of elements strive to make themselves heard through me.
I've decided that sometimes, the things that make the most meaning  are within and around us.
I have been reading a book titled "Never Eat Alone" and I have started to see people and the parts they play in my life from a different angle; a broader plane.
I used to fly solo all the time but lately I found myself bonding with people and getting really good at it.
At first, I was bothered that I was changing and letting too many people in but I learnt that loyalty and trust are attributes of the strong and wise.
I also learnt that your life really is about people, and being an island will leave you as static as an island.
Again, I learnt that there is more beauty in sharing love, joy, laughter, memories and even pain, especially with the right people.

Good friends are like sweet wine; they get better as they get older.
Bad friends are like a disease; they longer they stay hitched to you, the more they take from and destroy you.
Building friendships are a somewhat sacred act.
The choices of people to call your friends must not be made lightly; every new friend is an automatic addition or subtraction from your life.
What kind of life would you have if two-thirds of the people in your life constantly deduct value from you?
Your friends should be people you'd never have to deny knowing.
They should be people you'd want your kids to meet and emulate.
They should be people that can help you chase  and achieve your dreams without coveting them or swindling treasures off you.
They should be people you can trust yourself with such that if you fall, you'd have no fears that you wouldn't find help getting up again.
They should be people who'd slap sense into you when stupidity tries to stop you from making the right turns.
These kind of people are not just anybody.

We all need that person who sees in us, what no one else sees.
That person who makes you think of yourself as better than you are.
Lately, I met one of such people and I don't think I'm on my way to regret.
Many times, we wait for mind-boggling events to trigger the change we desire when all we have to do lies in our embracing normalcy.
I'm beginning to think that friendships are yet the strongest bonds we'll ever  have the privilege of making.
I do not speak of lust, sex or the often baseless relationships that have become the norm.
I do not speak of a coalition born of flighty sentiment.
I speak of a union of minds forged by selflessness, love, truth, tolerance, bravery and the courage to open one's self to the risk of losing it all.
I speak of the synergy born by the character of sacrifice and reason.

For some people, the heart is a locked gate whose keys are lost in a fog.
Only those who are willing to search blindly and patiently deserve to find the keys to unlock you. I need people who deserve me.
I need people who think I am worth the trouble.
I need people who are willing to teach me to be that better person they'd rather have me be.
I need people who'll make me forget that I don't know how to trust.
I need people who'll offer me a fresh start by making the pain from my past non-existent.
I need people who give me the correct definition of everything I feel.
You need them too.

In my opinion, you haven't found a friend until you have someone you can bare your soul to.
I look forward to meeting that person, whoever he/she may be.
I must confess that everyday I hope I find that friend in my life partner.
The truth may be that I might have met him/her/them; there's no rule that limits you to one true friend.
The people we pray and wait for may be those faces in the crowd that we bat eyelashes at and walk away.
Do not make the mistake of believing such people or bonds do nor exist....because they do.
My new friend taught me that if you're doing what you ought to do, you'll get what you ought to get.
Start by being the person you hope to find.
Be the friend you want to have.
Imbibe the character of love and the habit of forgiveness.
Be the person you've dreamt of having but never had.

EVEN WHEN WORDS AREN'T ENOUGH...

 

I just graduated from the university and once more, I had to deal with farewells and parting words that I dread so much. Knowing that I may never see some people who had become vital parts of my life is hard but the strength of these relationships lie in finding the "good" in the goodbyes.

I read a heartfelt letter written by a friend (whose picture is above) and just couldn't stop smiling. Goodbyes don't erase memories neither do they destroy great friendships.

Have a good read

I spent 1,460 days wondering what it would feel like on the last day but it was nothing I had imagined. As I walked down to my hostel after my unending parole my heart started to clamp together and air became heavier to suck in. Tola Omotosho's voice rang in my head "keep it together, curb your shit". I wanted to run back and hold him but I couldn't because the courtesy officer had pitifully given us five more minutes to say our goodbyes. A sister just had to keep it together. Memories of the last four years ran through my head in a flash; it felt like yesterday. Even my first day in Bowen felt like it happened a few hours ago.

All I could think about were my family. This family includes people I would ordinarily call a bunch of crazy friends.  There’s Adesewa Adebisi; I actually thought we were going to be best friends. We didn't even get to say a proper goodbye. I know we had our differences, but I love you and I wish you well. My Olamide Fadairo; my boss, my sister, my popular gingo, you will always remain my MAIN BITCH...I love you babe. Tejumade Adekola; my negress, my partner in crime, I love you sugar. Yinka Amokeodo: my friendship, my sister, my school daughter, I love you to babe. Tobi Ogunfidodo; my G, my sister I love you too. To my best friend Adelani Damilola; my ride or die bitch, my padi padi (even though I didn't know when u left school), all our fights from chapel to the hostel, the tears, the “I will never talk to you again" *in Sewa's voice*, the make ups and the breakups, the fun days will all be missed. I swear you guys are the real MVP. I love you all!!!

LOL… I can't believe am laughing through my tears. I guess “goodbyes” help you understand, appreciate and remind you of how important the things, moments, laughter, hugs, conversations, togetherness and the tears that we took for granted are. It helps us realize the importance of our existence as human beings...  

My other family: Gbemisola Akinyosoye; my birthday mate, my G. We didn't have all the four years together but the little time we had made up for the lost time.  Amarachi my sugar banana, I will miss u G and I will always be your "princess". Tola Omotosho, I love you and that is true bae. *plenty homo* Chinye dear, I love you. Aderanti Tejuosho, I love you princess! Enitan  AKA Ant hill, we didn’t have all of the four years but I thank you for the mermorable days. I love you B.

Shout out to my real niggas; Akin Ajobo, my “Mr. Sophisticated” I will miss you. Olumide my blood, my first major Bowen crush -bad for me he was dating Gbemisola and the love was strong so a sister didn’t have a choice but to support the couple. I was a real fan though- I love you brother. Tolu Jimoh my fine ass nigga, my gay nigga, I will miss you. Mr. Nyf my robot hugger, I love you. Lexy and Anudavis, I will miss you guys too!

This is for SIR AKALA 1 (soon to be LORD AKALA *in Enitan Ant Hill's voice*). Lol. I just burst his brains... I know pips be expecting me to define what we are- the likes of Gbemisola , Amara, Sewa, Ranti and co- but I’m sorry to burst your bubble guys. I don’t know what we are but I like where we are going. One thing I know is that he takes care of me, keeps me company, listens to me, holds me when I need to be held, Kisses my pains away, buys me Ribena (don’t judge me;  Ribena kids are happy kids), compliments me, notices me, understands my silence, makes me happy, respects my space, and thinks I’m the craziest, most adorable human being. The list could go on for years. He makes me laugh and above all, kept it real with me. So people, you can now do the math. But if u asked me, I might say "Definition is over-rated"; it is a thing of the heart and what matters are the things you feel. I Heart You Baby!! 

To my baby Adewole Damola; my number one fan, my baby, my love, I will miss you bae. To Ibukun Ogini; I wish I knew you a long time before now. God bless your heart angel. And my Moyo Olaleye, my tutor for days; even though she's didn’t take the course, she would study it just to explain it to me. She is a real G. I love you girl.

To BABBS,  my academic family; for four years the likes of Omosigo, Sharon baby, Ola, Mr. Dice  (don’t worry, add more inches to your height then we’d talk about that one night stand), Shevy aka star boy/poor boy (you and I know your account balance " winks"), Tolu  Okuwobi (my first fam in the department... My brother for days... Bestie of density) made my stay awesome. I love u guys. Gbeminiyi my class rep, Morade, Shade, Deola, Tope, Funmi, Busayo, Karen, Victor, Funmi, Mayowa, Tutu and Nike, the three Dami's, Joy, Jesuntomi, the two Kemi's, Oiza, Wunmi, Sesan Miller, Fisayo, Doyin, Abbey, and the names I can't remember, God bless you all. 

To my lovers in other departments; Lolade Salako my honey drop, Ife, Shola, Blaise, Moyin (my Mr. Personality thank you for the shirt), Yetunde my mumsy, Okiki, Julian, Tife, Anna, Tunji, Allen , Medun (I still remember that weekend *winks* It was fun), Oluwo and kolaaa (cute something), I will miss you dearly. To all my G's and lovers, y'all know yourselves, I’ll miss you. If I didn't mention your name, I’m sorry. #behaviourofagraduate I love you still!

Now to Knight Set; 

Today, I have mixed feelings comprising of both delight and sorrow. Delight because I know how happy we are after the seemingly endless rules, exams, tests, stress, 8am classes and morning bells, we managed to survive without any casualties. Remembering your faces somehow gives me flashbacks of the many different memories with every one of you. I know we have all shared amazing memories with each other, cried on each other’s shoulders or handkerchiefs, laughed till that Coke spilled through our noses, and even argued like crazy but  I see that the bonds between us will never break and that this will be something we will always have. Our eyes slowly tearing up make me feel sad because we must say our temporary goodbyes. We have grown up together and have come to know each other as siblings but just like in most families, at some point siblings must eventually say their goodbyes.

The certificates that we receive represent success and achievements but what we must remember more is the journey that accompanied this achievements – the heartache and happiness not the first class or pass. The certificate itself is gently tucked away in the appendix of our books while the journey itself fills the pages. I could go back and reminisce all the way about the last four years but I think it’s more important to focus on where we will be in the next four years. I used to tell my roommates, "My five year plan is to find a rich man and settle down with so I wouldn't have to work".  Please SCRATCH THAT! IN FACT, IF YOU ARE NEAR ME SLAP THE FUCK OUT OF ME!  Hey, I am not saying you should marry a broke ass nigga oo. Having said that, whatever you decide to do whether it’s tailoring or fashion designing; culinary arts or makeup; law or medicine; accounting or politics; fashion or music; we must make sure the word “success” is associated with what we do. We must take good advantage of all the opportunities we stumble upon; don’t wait around for things to happen. Blair Waldorf said "Destinies are for losers. It's just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen". I never said things are going to be easy. People tend to ask themselves "what if I fail?" when they haven't even started. Yeah, so what if you fail? Dust your bum and do it again.  Zig Zagler once said  “You don’t have to be great to start but u have to start to be great". Whatever you decide to do, make sure it’s for your passion for it and not just because of the paycheck. Ok scratch that, if the pay check pays the bills fucking do it. Umm… scratch that a little. LOL. Seriously, money is not everything but money is something vital so strive to acquire it but only through honest labour. So whatever you do, do it from the heart or not at all.  We must concentrate on enhancing our future and setting great examples for those who love us and for those who look up to us. We must be the positive reflections of tomorrow. Hence our actions must make a statement and send a clear message that we are the change that everyone awaits. Nelson Mandela said "May our choice reflects our hopes and not our fears". The Great Steve Jobs said “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” 

Finally I will like to take a moment to remember our friends and course mates who left us early; Toba and Mayowa. We love you but God loves you more. Rest in peace Warriors. My fellow Knights, let us brace ourselves because the world awaits and remember that when life gives you more than you can chew, you can swallow and drink water to push it down. If life gives you more than you can stand, kneel and go before the Almighty God in prayer. Philippians Chapter 4 verse 6-7 says "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." 

Warriors as we raise our caps "to a new beginning", stay safe, stay connected and be happy.  

Your girl,

Iwaeni Abimbola.

THE MiSt PHASE

I have been M.I.A for some time now. I was busy rounding up with my BSc programme and I’m finally done with it. Four years of pure joy, pain, surprises, frustration, disappointments, and achievements have ended. The four years every high school senior can’t wait to get a taste of when on the other hand, every undergrad wants to quickly get over with them. They ended and nothing happened. The sky didn't turn pink neither did my crush come to my door bearing roses and a diamond ring. I had so many ridiculous expectations but right now, normalcy has eroded them from my head.

There was something about the notion of being a graduate that made us think we’d probably sprout an extra head because the weight of the awesomeness would be too heavy for one head to carry. I thought I’d feel different, have all the answers all of a sudden, have super strength to do all those things I've been dreaming to do and maybe even grow taller. HAHA! But I feel normal; normal in a funny way.

Maybe this is a phase. The platform from which I’d leap unto all those things I expected. I feel strangely overwhelmed by my ambitions. I’m out of the safe net where I used to have all the answers. If you asked me what I wanted to be in three years time, the answers just rolled off my tongue like floetry. Right now, I think of the same question and no words rush to my mouth. I stare into whatever lies before me as those plans, dreams, goals seem like tiny molecules floating on the sea of uncertainty. I no longer have some explanations waiting for me even before I asked the question. This is really strange, really ordinary and I’m used to being a superwoman. Being a superwoman is easy when there are no risks and no black holes furiously reaching out to drag you into them. Here in the real world, all we have are ordinary people with extra ordinary dreams trying to make use of ordinary resources to make extraordinary stuff happen. I’m getting used to the idea as peculiar as it is to me.

I’m training myself to subdue fear, ignore shame and accept the possibility of failure as a natural ingredient for success. I’m struggling to accept the truth in the fact that I may have to let some people go so that new people can teach me things that will open my eyes to greater things. I am making conscious efforts to define who I am and what I want out of life, and I’m learning that this definition expands with every new day. I am learning that I have no reason to let go of who I want to be no matter what eerie voices say.

Everything you feel and have is a tool. Love, pain, memories, fear are all forces from which you can draw strength or weakness. So even though I am having a hard time reconciling reality with expectations, I will find my feet and I’ll stand on them. The truth is that no achievement is an end. They ought to be pre-requisites to achieving new stuff and we must find other things we need to attain new heights. Everything seems as uncertain as the mists, curling and shifting with every second but we must remember that as hours engulf minutes, the forms beyond the mists become clear images. This is my mist phase but I have to make sure that as things settle, I’ll be ready at every point to take charge of reality and make extraordinary things happen. I have decided to have fun and make great memories while I’m making history. Who says you can’t do both? Life’s too short to for every day not to be filled with the kinda laughter that makes you snort or the kinda smile that makes your cheeks hurt. Whether you’re in the mist phase or at the point where everything is crystal clear, be grateful and seize the moment with reckless abandon. Hey, I’m not saying you should jump off a cliff with no parachute screaming “You only live once”. Just let your dreams, hope and faith be incorruptible.