ON DECIDING TO BE BEAUTIFUL

So guys, here’s the thing. I have been drowning recently; drowning in the ocean of activities that make up my life. I have lost weight recently, acquired eye bags the size of Texas and broken down one or two times. Let’s not even talk about the needs vs pockets ratio.

Needless to say, contrary to my plans and hopes for starting the New Year, I haven’t been entirely happy lately. This has turned me into such a nag that I sometimes cringe when I start with these rants. At some point, it was okay to rant; I mean I have the right to. It’s me we’re talking about here. But somewhere along the line, I realized that I was actually becoming sad. In the two weeks, I have broken down in serious tears about thrice and shouted more times than I can count. My countenance became sour and every day, the ball of negative energy around me expanded and somehow got tighter.

I am not going to delve into some of the issues I have been dealing with since I do not have the privilege of being an anonymous blogger but here’s the deal: I HAVE CHOSEN TO BE HAPPY. I made a choice to be at peace with myself last year and by God’s grace, that turned out amazing. I was in my ACCA class on Saturday and whilst classes were going on, I was bus making lists of my immediate needs and attaching price tags to them. By the time I was done, I understood why some parents pop B.P pills after looking at their children’s lists.

After dwelling on these needs for quite some time, I decided that although it’s quite disappointing that I may not be able to afford all at the moment, they are not worth my happiness. So guess what, I dropped all that burden somewhere along Ojuelegba and moved on. I mean, when has God not had my back?

I retraced my steps and decided to uphold some of the decisions I made with taking good care of myself being one of those at the top of the list. So I thought you might want to hear some of my year-long resolutions. Note that I didn’t use the term “New Year.”

§  I decided to start zinging my water with lemons and other fruits. My citrus zinger water bottle is already "IN" and I’ve got tons of recipes waiting to be tried out. Yass Fit Fam!!!

§  I decided to start pampering my skin and believe me when I say that most of the things on that list were for my hair and face. Anyways, I walked into Montaigne Place and walked out with 3 bottles of awesomeness in a Clarins range.

§  I decided to stop being grumpy and get around to chores that I felt like are not in my jurisdiction. Like I won’t let myself be uncomfortable cuz I’m too pissed at you for not doing your job; I’ll go ahead and do what I can cuz I’ve got standards and there’s no way your smallness is messing with them.

§  I decided to eat fruits every single night; I need to have that healthy glow. Who knows? Shining bright like a diamond can get a girl a diamond. Lol.

§  I decided to stick to black soap…Yes, you heard me. I have been using Cussons Baby Soap for some years and as you all know, I’m a grown woman whose skin has grown-up issues plus my mum decided that she was done with my child support programme. So I discovered FOREVER LIVING AVOCADO BAR which is amazing and does a fine job of making me N1000 poorer every two weeks or so. Then I went to Akwa Ibom state for work and an old friend introduced me to this jar of black gooey sweetness called “ATONG.”

I’ll skip the details and jump to the part where I started using Dudu-Osun thereafter. So far, I’m loving it. It’s cleared some of the zits I had on my chest and back and the rest of my body is glowing. I was a bit skeptical about using it on my face and just stuck to my Neutrogena face wash. I also read reviews on Dudu-Osun online and many people had amazing stuff to say about it. I also learned that I can use it for my hair. Can I get a “Halleluyah”?

*REVIEW ON MY BEAUTY REGIMEN COMING SOON AS A VLOG*

§  I decided to be more disciplined. I want to remain a Risk Consultant and become a professional blogger/vlogger this year and these appeal to my discipline and sense of priority. I’ll have to work smart, write better, shoot better and just be more efficient generally speaking. I’d also have to make out more time for squats (and the dumbells for those just arrived...yayy!) and making salads and smoothies. You’re probably asking why I can’t fit the four lines above into 365 days without tackling discipline. Well, if you’ve set goals that you are determined to achieve this year and realize that the first the first month is always gone, you’d have the answer to your questions.

§  I decided to build a great reputation among most people I’d come in contact with this year. Basically just be a beautiful person on the inside and on the outside. I know I can’t do this alone, and am constantly asking for help form God.

I HAVE DECIDED TO BE A REALLY BEAUTIFUL PERSON ALL-ROUND OR ELSE WHAT’S THE ESSENCE OF BEARING A NAME THAT MEANS “BEAUTY COMES FROM GOD”?

Xoxo,

Nazzy

HEARTSTRINGS

SOURCE: ideasvalentinesday

ROSE:

I always wake up to a wet sweet tingling on my cheek,

Right where your lips touch before they move to my neck.

My tongue never gets used to your flavor as it bears the drugging effect of wine, chocolates and pure love.

We’ve been married just a year and I still look forward to marrying you the very next day, and saying I do all over again when you hug me from behind.

I often wonder if this would be till the end of time.

LILY:

I have loved you for a decade or so, borne your name for half the time and will want you forever.

I took vows by the sea with waters, earth and sky echoing them in unison.

Bed sheets can bear witness of the passion we share and the lights of how often we abandon them so that I can find you with hands and not eyes.

But outside your arms I know no solace for I am yet to bear the name mother;

I often wonder whether you’ll start to mind that too.

DAISY:

At first your touch was mild and then they turned to jabs that later turned my skin purple after a day or two.

At first I never wanted you to stop speaking for your words were laced with roses and I glowed as each syllable passed through me.

Now I’m running out of heart for each word from you destroys one more inch of it and makes me less woman.

Three missed periods have ended with scarlet fluid running down my legs and more life ebbing away from me.

I often wonder how long it takes you finally destroy a woman.

IRIS:

You have renamed me, re-molded me and made me yours in a way that can never be undone.

The purity of every interaction with you saved me from myself and every hugged pulled more of me out from the clutches of a stained past.

The children are beautiful but I wouldn’t want any without you and I can only love me and them because you constantly show me how.

All this time have taught me that some things- special things like what we’ve built- can defy the Constance of change.

I often wonder how little a woman I’d be if you hadn’t come along.

JASMINE:

I have watched you love me in more ways than one; with words, gifts and care but then, I have watched you love us all in the same way.

I see the lip stains, texts, and receipts, and how you steal quick kisses from them when you think I’m not looking.

I have gotten threats from unnamed women who want more of you and forget that you are solely mine or at least, were meant to be.

But I have loved you more, kissed you more, prayed for you more and given to more of myself.

I often wonder what I’m missing and how every other women manages to have enough of it to give you.

VIOLET:

I buckle at the knees each time I hear the sound of your voice or even the horn of your car; my body lives in the constant fear of the shame my thighs face by you.

My breasts and neck hurt from where your canines constantly dig in each time the bed lamp goes off.

My nostrils are accustomed to the stench of alcohol from your breath and my face to the eerie feeling of you drooling all over it.

You’ve become a nightmare as constant as the wedding ring I wear.

I often wonder how long it will take to lose you both.

IVY:

I have watched your dark hair disappear taking with it all the passion we once had.

Sweet names have gone with age and adventure with the fading memories.

A full house at Christmas and thanksgiving keep me grateful but I often miss little things like your notes and tickles and long nights of sweet nothings in foreign lands.

These days, memories and stories keep me happy and not you.

I often wonder if we’ll ever taste passion ever again before our demise.

LEILANI:

I have loved you for half a century and more and you leave me thinking that more can be done.

I have learnt to disregard age because the longing in your eyes each time they find me have never waned.

You have taken with you “all of me” and returned to me “all of us”; something I never thought existed or could be so amazing.

You have become the best of wines getting better with age and more exotic with passing moments.

I often wonder if death will be strong enough to break what we have.

ME:

I have heard all these tales and more, and have dared love once and tasted its exotic flavor.

I have tried to protect myself from the drama and heartbreak and have prayed on every night that my tale be magical.

I have grown to desire love in its purest form and am trying to learn how to wield it.

Now I’m focused on becoming his dream even before he finds me and loving others so that we can reflect God’s intention.

Perhaps in targeting a thousand souls, I will find that “one” and would have enough love to give and room to receive.

I often wonder what beautiful tale is yet to happen with me.

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 DISCLAIMER: The names are fictional. Also, I do not suppose that these extracts embody the experiences of every woman. However, these tales are as true as many of the women you have known.

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 I hope I struck a chord in you. 

xoxo.

Nazzy

CHRONICLES OF 2015

I know you thought I wouldn’t show up. Don’t think about it; just give me a hug!

Last year was beautiful and I’m not saying this because I feel lucky enough to have seen a new year. It’s true because since I became an adult, I haven’t experienced an age or time in which I had to take absolute responsibility of things around me. I was an independent adult facing life in its barest form.

I had real hard times; not the kind you face because they are a family burden but the kind that become all yours and no one’s. I had choices dance before my eyes, each teasing me with its pros and scaring me with its cons. I was the wind; heavy and dark one some days and light and fast on others.

Above all, I LEARNED TO TRUST GOD ABSOLUTELY AND IN RETURN HE TAUGHT ME THE TRUE MEANING OF JOY. I LEARNED THAT EACH ASPECT OF MY LIFE IS A JIGSAW PUZZLE LYING ON MY FATHER’S LAPS GRADUALLY BECOMING THE PICTURE HE HAS IN HIS HAND. I LEARNED THE TRUE MEANING OF JOY AND NOW, NOTHING CAN STEAL THAT FROM ME.

I faced a lot of challenges but unlike other years, I was joyful and completely at peace and although not all plans came through, the best of Him through me came to life. In as few words as I can manage, here’s my tale of triumph:

•        I learned to listen to the word and became closer to God.
•          I kept the best of friends and learned not to underestimate the power of positive energy around you.
•          Nobody in my family was hospitalized; that hasn’t happened in a while so it’s a mind-blowing milestone.
•          I found favor with people.
•          Love came my way...I eventually let it go but I found beautiful moments and made memories of them… And it’ll be waiting at the next junction so spare me the “aww”
•          I got admitted to a master’s program and a top school in the U.K.
•          I got a great job in a multinational. (“Great” here is a synonym for stressful and nomadic in nature lol)
•          I led the choir in church.
•          I spent a night on the beach…you think you’ve seen it all until the sea sings you to sleep.
•          I bought new shoes and clothes and fabrics. What? Don’t you know some people are naked?
•          I wrote more beautiful pieces, stretching myself to uncover more deep and amazing parts of myself.
•          I ventured into spoken word; I entered into a talent competition, did a few of my pieces and came second. Anyway, the gist is that you can now call me “a spoken word artist.”
•          I got extra piercings on my ears and learned to love fura di nono. I hope I got that right.
•          I reunited with one of my best friends and then made some new ones.
•          God answered one of my prayers with a miracle for the family. Ehen? Must you know everything?
•          I finally bought a brand new Nikon D Series camera. Thanks to Jumia on black Friday, we can finally get around to that Youtube channel and blog expansion. Please help me beg work to give me a break now and then.
•          I took a decision to become the “Proverbs 31” woman and to love the “1 Cor 13” way. Without all that last year brought my way, I may not be on this journey right now.

Happy New Year my lovelies. You were an amazing part of my 2015 and I hope we all stay strong, loving and helping each other grow. This year is for miracles and the nature of God shining through us. Make the best of it and do not hesitate to be super amazing with no apologies.

Take every moment and create at least a fraction of your dream out of it.

Take every person and create a friend out of him/her.

Take all that you are and create a reflection of God on earth.

Lace every deed with a drop of eternity; something beautiful that someone somewhere will never forget.

Xoxo,

Nazzy

THAWED Part 3

I have no proprietary rights to this photo. Unknown source

My life fell back into place except that my palette kept craving the exquisite meals from Nri- that’s the name of the restaurant where I met him- and my mind kept replaying jokes and witty banters from that evening. It’s been over a month and I have succeeded in not being able to forget Amanze- contrary to my plans. I am grateful for my ego that has prevented me from walking into that restaurant and making a big fool of myself. I also thank common sense for not letting me ask for his phone number that day. I have tried to push that meeting out of my mind and life like I promised myself I would but each time I pass that building on my way to work, I can’t help looking up to the window where I last saw him. Of course, he has more important things to do than stand all day waiting for me to pass by. Only idiots like me- married idiots- go around looking up at windows to find non-existent people. The strangest thing however, is that that vase never left the window sill and it always had different flowers in it. Like I said before, that man was too smooth for his own good. Anyways, I knew better than to come any closer than I already was. Besides, my husband came home about four days after I met Amanze.

Truthfully, I was glad to have him home. Amidst all my complaints and heartache, I must have forgotten to mention that I love my husband. I am not sure about being in love with him but I do not believe that love is just a feeling. I chose to love him so I do. He certainly doesn’t awaken my butterflies but he holds the keys to some of my best memories and of course, I made four amazing humans with him. That means something in my books. So he came home after months of being away for God knows what. At first, I was glad that he was alright but each time I remembered what he put me through during his absence, I grew mad at him. The striking thing is that when he was absent, I was fine. I was numb, remember? I didn’t care enough to be mad. I channeled all I had into being a mum, making good money, indulging my taste buds and just being another woman trying to remember what happiness feels like without allowing pain anywhere near her. I hadn’t even realized that there was anything to be mad at until another man reminded me of what it feels like to be noticed, indulged, taken care of and perhaps wanted. I didn’t care to feel all these things if I was not going to be allowed to have them. And that was maddening. Howbeit, I kept my cool. I have always been good at that. I took care of him and made sure he got to spend some time with the kids. Two years ago, we had a huge fight in which I clearly stated that I could tolerate being ignored but wouldn’t if thought he could do the same to my kids. I even threatened to give him a divorce and take full custody of my kids if he kept neglecting their paternal needs. By the time he got calls from two of my lawyers within three days, he knew that I wasn’t to be messed with on that matter. Needless to say, he made extra efforts when it came to the kids. He would always check his time when he was playing video games with the boy or excuse himself to take short phone calls when he was playing chess or monopoly with the girls but it was obvious he spent a great deal of himself trying to keep it up. If my kids were okay, then I would stay. We spent lesser time together; I guess he gave the kids what extra time he might have had for me but I was too frozen to be bothered.

This time around, I could feel myself creating more distance between him and myself. Usually, I’d put up a front and try to be all over him but I put in no effort this time. He probably sensed it and his play boy instincts were aroused. You know that primal trait that draws men to things that appeared inaccessible, that was probably it because I can’t think of any other reason why he came home one evening bearing a box of my favorite chocolate, midnight blue lace lingerie by Victoria secret and a pair of red bottom Loubs. The day before I was making my afro into two-strand twists in preparation for bedtime when he called me “Ima”. That’s the word for ‘love’ in Ibibio, our native dialect. He had just walked into our bedroom after spending some time with the kids. Eno, Nsikak and Aniekan had come home from boarding school for the weekend.  Eno and Kaka (Nsikak) are the boys and are older than Nini (Aniekan) and Didi (Edidiong) who’s the baby of the house. She’s just seven and she keeps me company and busy when the rest of the family are away. They couldn’t imagine not being able to see their day on his first visit in five months. Eddy had gotten them loads of stuff; books, games, clothing etc and they were elated. Yes, Eddy is my husband’s name. Actually, it’s Edikan but his friends and colleagues call him Edikan. I used to call him baby until it started to sound foreign and odd on my tongue. So I just joined others in calling him Eddy. Right! So he walked into the room and said “Ima, …” Frankly, I didn’t hear the rest of it because I burst into laughter. I found it absolutely amusing that a man would be away for five months, call weekly or even bi-weekly, doesn’t text, hasn’t called me anything but Edima in two years, hasn’t touched me in almost a year would return and suddenly call me his love after I’ve decided not to care about any of the above. He stood there gaping at me while I continued twisting my hair still amused. He must have been embarrassed because he walked into the bathroom where he stayed until I finished my twists and went to Didi’s room to read her Bible stories, as is our tradition.

That next day, I was literally astonished. All the signs were in place; my mouth was hanging wide open, my eyes were almost popping out of their sockets and Most of all, I was dumbfounded as I stared at Eddy holding out his presents to me. I certainly knew what to do with chocolate and Christian Louboutin shoes but what did this Mr. expect that I’d so with the oh-so-beautiful lace lingerie? Who told him that we still have that kind of chemistry? I must have been thinking for myself because he came unto me muttering under his breath about how he knew he must have hurt me all this years. I was quite disgusted. I picked up the box of chocolate, said “thanks” and headed for the door. Just before I left the room, I couldn’t resist turning back to mention how he didn’t hurt me because I didn’t give him the luxury of doing so. He stood there visibly shocked; he had never seen me react in that manner. He could feel the anger seething beneath the surface and the coldness underlined it just like I hoped it would. A few hours and twenty-four chocolates later, I returned to find him asleep after he had dropped a note on my pillow. The note said he got a call the previous day and needed to go to Ghana for three months for some mega project. He said he understood that I have made great sacrifices for us and deserved better. He said he just wanted the night to be special. After reading the note, all I could think was that he had no idea whatsoever about what I had or had not sacrificed. I went into the bathroom, washed my face and a few tear drops away and went to bed. I had imagined that someday, something would cause me to start feeling again but I had envisaged it would be him awakening the love and intimacy we shared, and I imagined it would feel good. I never thought I’d ever be open to pain again. Nobody told me that another man would crack the glass or that Eddy making advances at me would be repulsive rather than endearing. Nobody told me that what looked like a gesture that I had always prayed for in years past would feel like vomit thrown in my face. I could feel the ice melting and all the rage and pain that were frozen were frothing over the surface. The next morning, I decided to act as if nothing happened the previous night. I chose to give him the treatment I had always given him. I had always performed my duties in silence and without warmth. I could give everything except warmth; I didn’t have it to give anyways. I had run out of warmth almost five years before now. I helped him pack all what he would need, got the kids to calm down and drove us all to the airport. Just before he boarded, he gave the adults (that’s what we call the ones in secondary school) some money, hugged them tight and whispered something into Didi’s ears that made her stop crying. When he walked up to me, he was about to say what I sensed would be mushy so I stopped him from going any further. “You’re running late” I said and dusted the lapel of his jacket. I was about to go for a hug when he lifted my chin and kissed me. It was a long, bland kiss but I obliged him if that would leave me with some peace. He hadn’t kissed me in almost a year, and it felt like the entire flavor had been lost with time. 

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Hello darlings. I hope you love how the story is unfolding. Pt 4 is on its way. 

Anyways, I traveled home and it feels great to be with family. they are simply everything.

P.S- My laptop fell and some parts cracked and a few places got chipped. Its a Lenovo S400 Touch ideapad. I need to know if it's possible and what it'd take to change the carcass/casing/exterior. Its urgent. Kindly help me out. This laptop is my prime possession. More than half of me is literally saved in it. I have literally shed tears...and I need to do something asap. Biko....

I hope you are all having a great week.

xoxo,

Nazzy

THE BODY: A VESSEL OF HONOR

When you look at me, what do you search for?

When you touch my skin, what do you hope to feel?

When you think of me, what do you remember?

Know this:

I am a person not an hourglass.

I am a person not silk.

I am a person not a fantasy.

In our world, there is no one woman. There are women; individual women, unique women, different bodies carrying different souls created to mirror the creator’s person- the lover, the helper, the caretaker, the teacher…

Tell society to redefine them; they are more than makeup, false lashes, padded bras and hourglasses. 

Tell the women to disbelieve what they have been taught; that they are not beautiful until their waists are thin and their hair stretched. Tell yourself you are above the insecurities that bind you tight.

You might have heard this before. Perhaps, you might have said it yourself but do you believe that you are enough? Do you really believe that there is nothing to be ashamed of?

Virtually every woman has some part of her body she is insecure about. It may be the ears they’ve called “big” or the extra full lips or even your muscular tummy. Let me tell you about “Beautifulness”. It is a feeling that accompanies belief in you as a carrier of a great measure of beauty. The moment you believe that there is beauty in you, you will glow with confidence and people, either intentionally or not, will believe you as well. Being beautiful is an art. You study yourself, you discover what is unconventional about your body (note that I did not say ugly), decide whether or not it should stay (In conformation with the lifestyle you find ideal for yourself), discover the features that are most striking or gorgeous and hone them. Do not dwell on your imperfections; accept them, treat them like patients that get better with care and tell them they are beautiful anyways. That is why those muscular “hot instagram moms” are called sexy while Obioma the maid who isn’t half as muscular is called “yam legs”. It is in the impression and expression.

I have been there. That world made up of me, standing alone with mesh walls surrounding me. Mesh walls made from wires of insecurity and lies that I had listened to and accepted as my story. But one day, I kicked down the wall and walked away. Today, those liars come to me with the truth, the truth I had already told myself and believed. They come seeing the real me, the one I want them to see because in their eyes lie the reflection of how I feel about myself.

I am not tall and while it used to be an instrument to taunt me years before, I now get compliments about being cute and portable and confident because that’s exactly how I feel about it. It is funny how I have a lot of people call my lips sexy and full and blabla when in secondary school, it was the first thing I’d get teased about. For some reason, I have that kinda athletic body that people go to the gym to get. So while, it’s not perfectly shaped like an hourglass, I remind myself that it is beautiful and strong and is the only vessel that’ll hold my insides together so gracefully. I remind myself that mannequins and magazine covers are not bodies of people but are illusions that cause people to neglect how unique each feature is as it marries the rest of the body to produce you. Your body belongs to a person; one who has habits, problems, feelings, goes through childbirth, gets stressed out and craves the wrong pleasures sometimes. So give it a break from all that shame, neglect, strain.

I saw a picture that showed off different body shapes for ladies; the figure 8, A-shape, I-shape and T-shape. Each time, I told somebody that there were anything but the “8”, they got mad or a little withdrawn or even defensive. They’d rather be told a lie than believe and see the truth about themselves. It was funny to me because as soon as I saw the picture, I knew I knew where I fell and I was happy to point it out.

Sweethearts, never be embarrassed because you’re not busty or as hippy as the hippo in Madagascar (the anime). Never feel lesser than the girl beside you because your eyebrows are too full; I mean, why do they line them to be wide if they wanted their brows scanty or empty? Never apologize because your ears are too wide apart (whatever that means). Care for your body without hating any part of it. Conceal what needs to be concealed, enhance what needs to be enhanced, reveal what needs to be revealed and even eliminate what needs to be gone but never beat yourself up over any part of it. Be comfortable in your skin. Go without makeup sometimes; plainness doesn’t bite. Take walks in comfortable clothing; waist trainers and padded bums are not your birthmark.

Please note that I am not against healthy lifestyles and makeup etc. On the contrary, they are the tools that help us stay beautiful but be sure that you indulge in the things in the things you do for the right reasons and that you’re not burning yourself out or living a fake life just because. In fact, find out what beauty and work out routines you ought to adopt, the kind of clothing that suits your body type, the right way to make up in accordance to your unique features and embrace a healthy diet.

It would not be complete if I didn’t tell you that as God’s beloved, you are a reflection of him. Do not insult that privilege by conforming to anything lesser than that. Do you know that your love for God reflects on you? You cannot love God wholeheartedly and despise any gift he has bestowed upon you. In other words, in loving God, we learn to love ourselves the right way and manifest his fullness here on earth. There is a depth of wonder you reek of when you perceive yourself in the light of God’s word. Being an African woman can ONLY be a gift. Any limitation you see is the scheme of the devil targeted at reducing the content made available to you by God to manifest his glory.

Stay beautiful.

Xoxo,

Nazzy

TO PEOPLE WHOSE PRESENT ARE MY PAST

There’s so many things I’d love to tell the world; things I know and know not of, things I believe in and things I doubt absolutely, things I fear and things I confront courageously, things I succeeded at and the others that dubbed me a failure. These lessons are like a turbulent tide in my mind, seeking an outlet . . . seeking release.

This is to the children; youth; girls struggling with crushes, low self esteem, annoying mothers, overbearing fathers, ambition, rules and pain; people whose today are my yesterdays.

This is for girls struggling with things mama doesn’t understand. For girls whose pastors say to their mamas “Hey, your girl isn’t normal. You should get her to the deliverance sessions”, when all they are, is different.

This is for girls growing up alone even though everyone around her could lend a helping hand. This is for the girl putting up the façade of a tough exterior when the inside reeks of decaying flesh.

This is for the girls wishing they had what others had even though others didn’t have what they had; for little women straining to make snowballs from the mist.

This is for girls whose backs are broken from the weight of obligation; girls charred from the heat of juggling dreams that are not theirs.

This is for girls constantly looking in mirrors that only tell them that they just aren’t enough. This is for that lass who cannot admit that she loves a part of herself just because all eyes stare at that part with disdain.

This is for the girl who knows but is knocked down every time she dares believe that she’s more than breasts, buttocks and kitchen utensils. This is for the young women who walk faced down because their brown bodies cannot take the shape of an hour glass.

This is for girls whose realities are based on myth and mirages. This is for girls whose tear glands are strained from over-secretion.

Listen!

This is a new year. This is the dawn of a new era. This is a new life. This is time for a new “you”. At the beginning of Joshua’s ministry, God said to him, “Moses is dead, arise…” You are now at that point where God is saying to you “The old you is dead so arise.” This is the point where nothing else matters except what God has to say about you, unto you and through you. This is the time when you become who God has destined you to be and has programmed you to manifest.

Do I sound too spiritual? Well, this is time to be spirit-minded if the physical and all other realms in which you operate in will receive life. Many times, we try to write things like this with our wits and savvy but I’m convinced that what I have to tell you cannot be compared, by any standard, to what God has to say to you concerning the same situation.

If who your peers, your parents, that man and even you say you are doesn’t mirror what God has already said about you, you shouldn’t be listening to them. You must learn to rise above rumors, random opinions and heresy when you are concerned. You must define to yourself who you really are and must refute anything contrary to that.

You are better than your deficiency; that bad skin, bad relationship, guilt or even habit. You are brighter than the depression that eats deep into you or even the failures you have to show for your endeavors. You are exceedingly mightier than lack and the pain that tears through your heart each time you think about your problems. You are simply greater than who you have been no matter the reasons that justify the state of your past. You have the life of Christ in you and are created in the image and likeness of God. This means that all you have been subject to, are now to be subject to your own authority.

You are beautiful   You are special      You are loved         You are wonderful

You are not abnormal       You are extraordinary     You are talented

You are wanted      You are strong       You are courageous                   You are visionary

You are bold          You are healthy      You are wealthy     You are excellent

You are appreciated        You are God’s beloved

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.

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 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.