Decades: Chunks of Time

Wedding panic

2009-12-22T01:28:00.001+01:00

Its here. The D-Day is here. Well, almost.

By sunday night, I am going to be a married woman. My name will change, everything will change, even my body.

It seemed so far away six months ago. All the shopping, all the mother and daughter fights, everything looks so trivial now.

The cake isnt ready, the gown is ready.

The bridesmaids dresses are alright, the chief bridesmaid's dress has not even been sewn yet.

The flowers for everybody has not arrived yet.

And my hairdresser wants to rob me blind, but its too short a notice to get another.

I cannot remember where I hid the marriage license and I am looking for some of the gift money.

One of my bridesmaids is acting very funny and we are thinking that the service boys from the caterer might not cover the whole event.

Why do I have to fix artificial nails? And must my hairdo be gel? Can't I just set my hair in a curl or wave? The video guy is bugging us for his advance payment, and I still have to pay for the hair pieces for the bridesmaids. Where in God's name did we hide the rings? How am I supposed to pack the clothes I will need separately? Since we young babes cannot sleep in the house, how do we get a hotel to sleep? Why is the honeymoon agent taking so long with her processing? Where will the couple sleep for the night?

I am almost in a panic.

Then I look up, and I see Vicky.

All is well.

We made it this far, and we will make it even farther.

We will defy all those that said we are too young to marry, and the union [after 4 yrs of courtship] is too soon.

We will show them that said they want to see how we will survive, and they give us three weeks before collapse.

We have the ultimate weapon.
We have God on our side.

He smiles at me.
I smile back in return.
Yes, we are going to be alright.

I will not let go

2009-12-22T01:25:00.001+01:00

Tis amazing what we take for granted everyday...Got to church yesterday in less than 10 mins thanks to Bikermice from Mars [I'll miss them when I move to Abuja!]. As I went up then down the ped bridge briskly, all that was on my mind was getting to church. I stepped into Church and all that changed. It seemed my hip had shifted. I could barely put any weight on my right leg. It was awful. I developed a limp as I entered the church.
I gunned for the very first available seat at the back. I could barely put pressure on the hip even while sitting. I wondered what I had done to cause it to happen. Was it my diet? For two weeks I have stayed away from rice, white bread, and yam. Considering that that was the staple in my household, you can understand that it was with supreme effort that I was sticking to that regime. I am loving the effects already as my clothes are really loose around my body, but I am lacking carbohydrates - it would have been total if not for the spaghetti I consume regularly. A chat with my chief bridesmaid calmed me down - if it was from my food then its not the diet, because I am staying away from carbohydrates not calcium.

Was it my state of mind? I was not really paying attention to a lot around me. My processor was doing a lot of computing - on one hand I was calculating how much the total aso ebi I was to church for friends carrying cost, so that I would sound brilliant when I was asked by the paying parties. On the other hand I was trying to guess if I would make it in time to church before the closing prayer. On another side I was wondering if I would be able to fulfill my promise of visiting a friend's mother and on the other hand I was wondering how I would finish the job laid out and waiting for me on my bed at home.

Needless to say, my mind was all over the place, but that did not explain the sudden pain in my right hip. I was listening to the sermon - yes I actually met the sermon as it was about to begin when a thought hit me out of the blue.

I will not let go until you bless me.

That was how Jacob/Israel got his shifted hip.

He did not let go until God blessed him.

He held on tight, and wrestled with all his might.

And he was all the better for it.

All he lost in the bargain was a well balanced hip.

He got all he could imagine and more from that encounter.

The pastor's bellow [yes it sounded like a bellow], brought me back into the church hall. It was time to tell God what we wanted before the year runs out, he declared. It was time to claim all those pending blessings left over from the previous months, he announced.

I was up on my feet with the crowd. I strayed from the normal prayers for the past eight months: asking for another car, a successful wedding ceremony, my father's miraculous presence at the wedding. Instead, I requested for one thing.

LORD BLESS ME.

I WILL NOT LET GO UNTIL YOU BLESS ME, LORD.

Because in the end, His plans for us are good and not evil, to bring us to an expected end. He loves us and only wants the best for us. I would rather ask for His blessings which covers all I need, than sell myself short and ask for specific things from Him.

HE blessed me that day, and even though I was limping till evening, I did it with a smile on my face - I had wrestled with Him and told Him my demands, in prayer -
I WILL NOT LET GO UNTIL YOU BLESS ME.

Seven pounds

2009-12-21T03:12:00.002+01:00

I watched the movie, Seven Pounds, recently and just had to write a tribute to it.

Everyday, he sits at his desk,
glad to have a job,
glad to be able to cater for himself.
As the phone rings, he picks and says,
"Hello, Customer service, how may i be of help to you?"
Blind Ezra never hurt anyone,
was never cruel or unkind.

Everyday, she watched the children run down the street,
She could barely keep her dog from running too fast.
She knew her business was about to close,
but with the uncertainty in the time she had left,
her mind, her heart was no more into work.
Emily, the girl with a failing heart.

She sat in Child care services everyday,
always trying to reach out, always praying her friendly smile would convince the next child,
the next victim of abuse that she was there to hold them,
to provide another way for them.
No one knew of her pains, no one could tell that her liver had failed.
Holly, always smiling, always ready to help.

She kept the children in doors,
She never let them be exposed to her abusive boyfriend.
She let him in because she knew there was no where to hide.
And she knew she would die if she pressed charges.
Even when he broke three of her ribs she never said a word.
Proud Cottie - who would cater for her kids if she were to 'disappear'? No one.
Cottie had to stand strong amid all the despair.

The family of three ate at the hospital cafeteria.
The mother was smiling hard, and encouraging her first son to play with the ailing younger brother.
Nicholas was ill, and failing everyday.
He needed a bone marrow transplant, and was on the waiting list.
His mother tried to conceal her dimming hopes behind an over bright smile, but the boy could feel it.
There was no hope in this world.

He assumed an identity
To fulfill a mission.
He took the role of his brother
to penetrate and to study
He had it all planned out.
He knew what he had to do, and he knew when
He selected them all, specifically
they had to be deserving
they had to be nice kind people
they had to be worthy,
worthy of another chance at life.
Worthy of a change in their situations,
worthy of a miracle.

It is rare to be given the opportunity to plan one's death - Death is always cheating at that.
But Tim Thomas had that opportunity,
To his brother Ben, he gave a lung.
To Ezra he gave his eyes.
To Emily he gave his heart.
To Holly he gave his kidney.
To Cottie he gave his home.
To Nicholas he gave his bone marrow.

To each one of them, he gave another opportunity
Another shot at life.
He planned his suicide, but he didn't feel he had to die just like that.
This graduate of MIT, decided if he were to die, people had to benefit from his death.
The accident that killed seven people and the love of his life, that left him as the only survivor, was proof enough for him that he survived for a reason.
And he touched many lives, in his selfless act.

I only hope he gets to enter heaven.

Bosi gbangba pt3

2009-09-27T21:22:00.000+01:00

"My Daddy Eko is coming to our house today!" Four year old Ajibike whispered to her friend. They were at sunday school, and even though the teacher had warned her to keep quiet twice already, she could not suppress the good news. Nothing could suppress her excitement that day, not even the fact that her sunday black shoes had cut that morning on the way to church, because she had run at the site of a giant millepede. Her best friend, Lanre, had laughed at her, calling her a sissy, but his words did not have their usual effect that day. All she knew was that her Daddy from Lagos was arriving that day, and that was enough to keep the sun shining all day for her.

One would think that the man's visits meant lots of sweets and gifts for her, like any other child, but for Ajibike, it meant she had a listening ear to report all her troublesome younger brother had done to her since his last visit. He was always patient enough to listen, unlike her father and mother, who expected her to be responsible for the little brat, and take punishment even when the brat was wrong. That was all she needed, a listening ear for all her stories and tales of adventure in the three farms her father had.

Her present companion was a girly girl, the type that she and Lanre sneered at when they passed by, with all the frills and stockings and gowns. Ajibike only wore gowns on sundays, even then it was until she returned home again. The sissy asked her if her Daddy Eko would bring imported chocolate, and turned away when Ajibike said no.

With no one to chat with, as the teacher had banished Lanre to the other side of the class, Ajibike dipped her hand into her favourite gown's pocket. She loved the particular lilac gown she was wearing mainly because of its pockets in front, in which she kept a variety of things like her one and only marble, her beads, her wire rings, and all other sorts. One pocket was for her while the other was for Lanre - she kept their goodies because Lanre had elder siblings that were more thorough in emptying children's
pockets than her mother, who had her hands full with her restless brother most of the time, and expected Ajibike to be a mature girl.

She rummaged in her pocket until her fingers found her favourite bead piece, which had a small groove on it. The beads had actually come from a long necklace of beads that she had worn for more than a year until her brother had pulled it apart. Since she didnt know how to string it, and her artist aunt was busy with exams, she carried some of the pieces around with her. As the Sunday school teacher commanded them to close their eyes and pray, Ajibike rolled the bead absentmindedly on her arm.

There was combined service that morning, which meant that the children got to sit in the main church with the adults, a rare treat for Ajibike, as she loved to watch and laugh at the dozing antics of the adults in the church. Ajibike settled down, and watched as Dami, Lanre's younger brother, who was her brother's regular partner in crime walked by. She knew he was looking for her brother, and she turned around briefly to look at the church entrance to see if Lanre had quit disturbing that sissy girl and had decided to enter.

She was still rubbing the bead absentmindedly on her face when she turned back - and her elbow bumped into Dami, causing her hand to push the bead straight into her nostril. Dami began crying the second he saw that Ajibike could not snort out the bead piece. The sunday school teacher ran into the church, and asked what happened. She took Ajibike and crying Dami out of the church before listening to explanations.

=--------------=
"We are so happy to see you," Ajibike's father was telling his cousin. "How are things in Lagos? Hope not too hectic for you."
"Not too hectic o," the man replied. "We are surviving."
"You still have not told me what you want to eat sir," Ajibike's mother put in as she placed a tray of cold water before him, on a stool. "We have yam, amala flour, ogi, vegetable, egusi soup, and even bushmeat."
"This your wife will kill me with food one day o,"Daddy Eko said. "She keeps forgetting that the minute I finish eating her food, I begin to fall asleep."
"That is the way it should be sir," she responded. "Sleeping after a meal is a sign of contentment."
"Where are the children?" the man asked.
"They are off to church with the maid." she replied. "Since you wont decide, I shall go and prepare your favourite. Please excuse me."
The men nodded as she rose and made her way to the kitchen. She smiled because she noticed that they waited until she was no longer within earshot before continuing with their discussion.

She was grinding pepper on the stone grinder when she heard faint voices. She stood up straight and took care to wipe her brow with the back of her hand. The voices got closer and closer. She ran to the front balcony to see what the noise was about, and gasped.

Coming towards the house was a group of about eight people, the person in the middle was carrying Ajibike and walking so briskly that the others had to practically run to keep up.

Bosi gbangba pt2

2009-09-23T17:01:00.001+01:00

"What is the issue now?" the man asked. "Haven't you taken enough for the tests?"
The child was crying silently, in her mother's arms.The nurse glanced nervously at the couple. How was she to tell them that the pathologist was out for his noon day drinking break?
"Er...the samples have been sent to the Lab sir," the nurse stuttered.
"But that is what you said twenty minutes ago!" the man exclaimed.
"We are waiting for the results sir, before we can proceed." the nurse repeated again. "

The man glared at the nurse before turning back to his wife and child. Suddenly two doctors rushed into the room and asked for the referred child. The nurse pointed towards the watching couple. One doctor quickly collected the sleeping child from its mother while another began explaining that the child had to be operated on because they believed any more delay would jeopardize the child's life.

"No!" exclaimed the mother. "That's the reason we asked for a referral! We do not want an operation!"

"But madam," the doctor replied. "she can barely breath! The only reason she can sleep right now is because she is not alert. When she wakes up she will be in a lot of pain. If you only let us..."

"Let you do what?" the mother interrupted. "Cut a hole in my baby's throat?"

"But its just a tiny hole madam." the doctor said.

"No matter the size its still a hole," the father replied. "A permanent hole. We do not consent to the operation. Why are you not waiting for the test results?"

"Tests?" repeated the doctor.

"He means these test results," another voice floated from the end of the corridor. She was tall, slim and her steps were soft and sure on the worn tiles of the hospital. As she crossed a sun beam, her face was framed for a second, and it looked more like a model's than a doctor- the mother's roving eye caught on the billowing doctor's coat again for assurance. What could this teenager be doing in a doctor's coat? She wanted to ask.

"You ran tests on the child?" the second doctor asked her, his face contorted in a frown.

"Yes," replied the lady as she moved closer to the mother and rubbed her hand up then down the woman's sleeve. The woman relaxed a little, unconsciously.

"She has a bit of apple stuck in her wind pipe." she continued. "Its not poisoning as their hospital's note said. All we have to do is give her drops that will melt the piece. We will also give her more sleeping syrup."

She looked directly at both parents as she said,"There wont be any need for an operation. Please let ur perform the procedure. It will only take a few hours."

"We don't even know these people." the mother said, looking at her husband pointedly. The doctors apologized and introduced themselves.

As they made their way back to the waiting room, the mother wondered what would have happened if the teenager doctor, who turned out to be a pediatrician, had not arrived when she did. She had shuddered when they had been told that their baby was about to be given a permanent hole in her throat. Her mind had failed to refuse to stop picturing the child, with a hole in her throat, growing up still with a hole in her throat.She pictured the humiliation, the shame, the suffering the girl would be put through all her life, all through no fault of hers.All because another woman who wanted her father had decided to 'deal with' the girl.

The mother shuddered again."Are you alright dear?" her husband asked as they sat down to wait.

"I will be if you can assure me that that witch will not spend another night under my roof," the mother responded.
"It could have happened with anyone," the father defended their house guest. "Even you."
"Even me?" the mother repeated. "How could I possibly be so dumb as to feed apple to a child that has no teeth?"
"I knew you were going to react this way." the man said in a resigned tone.
His wife just stared at him before shaking her head, also in resignation. How was it that men were blind when it concerned women that wanted them?

They sat in silence for three hours, the wife muttering prayers for minutes at a time. The husband sat back, and reminisced. He remembered when the baby was born, how he had been called aside and told that the hospital did not have an incubator, but there was a way out - they could improvise, if only they could get their hands on about ten hot water bottles and a few more thick blankets.
He'd made a dash for the university quarters, and gone from door to door until he'd gathered all he needed. His neighbors looked at him in wonder - an African man was usually this jubilant when his wife gave birth to a boy, but the father was oblivious to the the gender, and even the condition. As far as he was concerned, he had a child.
He was a father.
He had a child.

The baby had been 1.6kg at birth, and the doctors, after setting up a make-shift incubator with cardboard boxes, hot water bottles, and thick blankets, were scared when the weight dropped to 1.4kg. The baby was a survivor however, she not only survived the incubator, she survived one month at the hospital. She was the smallest premature baby to ever survive in the hospital, and as a gift, she was granted free treatment until she clocked three years of age.

But the baby was barely one year old, when an old friend came visiting some days ago, totting apples, the local species. She had insisted on carrying and playing with the baby, then on feeding her apples today. Ajibike had adapted to the new food until a particularly big piece had gotten stuck in her throat.What started as a small back-patting incident, became an alarming issue that entailed rushing the child to the nearest hospital. Thank God they had been alert and not numb, because the doctor on duty had insisted on operating on the child, even after hearing that the kid was choking on ordinary apple. They had put their foot down, and insisted on a referral.

"Sunday?" a leathery voice interrupted his musing. The father looked up, then sat up immediately. His brother, older than him with more than fifteen years, was standing in front of him. He tapped his wife gently before standing up and prostrating in greeting.

"I thought so," the man said, nodding his white head. "When that child doctor kept disturbing me that I must carry out the analysis before going to my joint for my midday palmwine, I thought she was just ranting as usual. Thank God I glanced at the name on the forms. I carried out the analysis quickly before going out. I am glad I did."

"Thank you Papa," the wife said, rising from her kneeling pose.

"What happened to my child?" he asked as he took the seat vacated by his younger brother.
"She got apple stuck in her throat," the wife replied.
"Hmm...." the man mused. "Asphyxiation, or poisioning. Was it critical when you got here?"
"The doctors from General Hospital gave her a sedative so she was still sleeping when we got here."
"General wanted to cut a hole in her throat abi?" the old man asked.
"Yes," replied the mother.
"Typical," the old man muttered. "All they have to do is dissolve the apple piece, then give her a sleeping draught, and position her so that she doesn't choke before she wakes up. That's all."
"That is what the girl doctor said," the woman said.
They all turned at the footsteps coming down the corridor. The nurse approached the receptionist first, then came towards them.

"Dr. Ogochukwu says you can see your daughter now." She said. "Please follow me."
The three of them followed the nurse who led them down the corridor as she spoke.
"She is now in the Children's ward, but in a separate room. I see you have met Papa Mankind."
"He's actually my elder brother," the father responded.
"Small world." she said.
"Yes small world." agreed the father, who entered the room after the nurse.
They were greeted by the endearing sight of Ajibike clapping her hands and shaking her crib in enthusiasm as the lady doctor sang out of tune, while she checked her vital signs.The mother's silent tears were in complete contrast to her happy laughter.

Bosi gbangba pt 1

2009-09-23T16:59:00.001+01:00

The man rubbed his head again in anguish, then rubbed his aching eyes, before resuming his pacing. Back and forth he paced in the waiting corridor, ignoring the pitying glances that passersby sent his way. Everytime a doctor approached he looked at their faces intently, dreading bad news.

They had already lost one baby. This unexpected one had been a God - given miracle, and now it seemed it was only a teaser.

He smiled as he remembered his wife's facial expression when the doctor had told her that her illness was another baby, not malaria. But that was four months ago. Now he had had to rush her to the emergency room because she had fainted.

He had stepped down to the car to pick something, only to return and find her on the floor.

"Hello sir," the approaching doctor asked. "Are you the husband of the woman in the theatre right now?"

"Yes, Yes," he said in a rush. "I am. What happened?"

"We are sorry about the.." the doctor began, but had to pause when the man began to cry.

"Wait sir!" The doctor exclaimed. "She still alive!"

The man looked up instantly. "She is alive?" he asked, trying to believe the words that came out of his ears.

"Yes she is sir," the doctor repeated. "I just came to tell you that you have to sign some papers. She has to be operated. I want to explain the situation to you sir, but you have to calm down and listen carefully."

"Am listening" the man replied as he walked with the doctor towards the theatre.

"Ok. We have to operate to remove the baby. I understand that the approximate duration of the pregnancy is just over six months right?"

"We are not really sure." The man responded.

"Then it might not be developed enough to survive." The doctor said."We are on a race to save your wife's life. That is what we hope to achieve. We will try our best but saving your wife's life is the goal. Do you understand?"

"Yes I do."the man replied. "Please save her."

Three hours later the man was called into the theatre.

"Your wife is fine now sir." The doctor assured him. "She will be resting now."

"Thank God!" the man sobbed again.

"And that is your baby" the doctor added. "Its a girl, and she's alive and kicking."

The man glanced in the direction the doctor was pointing to, and saw a nurse motioning for him to come closer. He peered at the tiny form in her arms, all bloody and wriggling the tiniest arms and legs he had ever seen.

"She's barely seven months old." the doctor said.

"Baby" moaned the wife.

They all glanced at the bed, the nurse hurrying to her side to show her the child.

She stared at it for a few minutes, then turned to her husband and asked,

"Are her toes complete?"

He nodded in response.

"And her fingers?" He nodded again.

"Thank God" she muttered before falling asleep again.

At 1.6kg, not longer than an Africola bottle, Ajibike was born, on the 23rd of September.

Nigeria's Bank crisis

2009-08-19T18:49:00.006+01:00

Since friday I decided not to comment on what was going on in the banking industry here in Nigeria, partly because I was three busy, and partly because I really do not 'vent' about politics. Yes, I vent about the upcoming wedding, the office, and other things but not really about politics. But this one, I have to vent.
I read a post on 234Next about the banks crisis and the moves that CBN has made to try to change things, and it was alright. The information was shocking but still Nigerian. Then I read the comments.
I encourage everyone to click the link above and read the comments thoroughly. It appears that there are some Nigerians who don't realize that every decision-making office in Nigeria is rapidly being filled with underqualified [or in some cases, unqualified] Katsina and Kaduna state people. I started with 'it appears' cos I do not want to believe it is true. I encourage everyone to read through THISDAY newspaper, yesterday's edition.
Meanwhile this was my response to the writeup:
BANJI AHMED and all those condemning AKEEM KOLA ADEBAYO, I think you missed his point. When he was talking about tribal activity he was not talking about the banks issue alone. Take a good look at the recent activities in FERMA, PHCN, CBN and other key decision-making posts in the country - you will see that the top crop is being replaced by unqualified, or lower level underqualified katsina and kaduna men. Just look well. One retired northerner even wrote a signed statement about it - it was in yesterday's papers. I personally know that the FERMA head was sacked without preamble. That is what he is refering to, not the bank issues alone!

While CBN has the authority to caution erring banks, I do not see how they have the veto power to 'sack' bank MDs and chairmen, especially banks created by private hands. And I also agree with the fact that people's assets should not be seized to pay the debts incured from failing businesses, only the collateral.

While the US has given us till 2013 before we implode, I for one pray that the tension wont give way before then. Since friday one statement I heard during Abacha's rule has been echoing in my head = 'The northerners are born to rule. The others are born to serve them.'

Let's all start praying for Nigeria o!

All the Married Ladies

2009-07-13T11:09:00.002+01:00

I have a question for the 'experienced' Naija wives out there...How do you cope with decision making in the home? I am engaged to a good quiet guy and he's nice and reasonable most times but guess what? He's from Ekiti state. That is the beginning of it all, cos we all know they are extremely stubborn people. He can be so determined over some issues at times it makes me so exasperated that I am breathless.

Now the wedding is pending and as usual the little arguements and 'issues' over wedding preps is expected, but it still makes me raise an eyebrow, cos even though I love this guy, it is a serious issue for me when he wont see reason.

I am not always right but sometimes I am sure but he wont listen. Then when I am proved right he still wont say a word. Its funny, really because I have been practicing 'agree to disagree' but its wearing me down.
Tis especially frustrating because I am used to making my own decisions and all that independence.
Now he's all luvey-duvey but am not even blinking. Is this normal?

Then the role of motherhood? Does it fit easily? Do you just become a mother, just like that? Cos I cannot begin to comprehend how my body will change over nine months and there's the childbirth part. I hear stories of how 'the lady had several tears and she had to be stitched inside and outside [shudder]' or of how 'the labor took up to 5 hours and had to be induced in the first place'. Tis making me shake. Then having a kid now without proper..er...[financial] preparation is a major issue. My cousin told me that a pack of pampers, the big size that lasts an average of 2 months, costs 54, 000 naira [yes, fifty-four thousand naira]. That alone is making me try to pinch every cost wherever I can.

Then I ask Vicky, when are we goin to start have the babies? And he replies, 'immediately of course. Why wait?'
What about my career? I am already feeling down that I have to leave the posh job I'm at in Lagos to go to the unknown in Abuja. The frustrating part is everyone keeps advising me to get a Ministry job because that way, I can have the time to 'rear my children properly'. I did not intend to have a career in the ministry where all they do is open and close file cabinets for God's sakes! I have climbed so far in so little time - as the head of technical department in the mobile IT firm I work, it has been hard work getting there. Now I am supposed to go and work in a Ministry so I can have time for my children? What about the bankers in Abuja, don't they have time for their children?
I have serious issues running through my mind - Kafo has heard some and pacified me a bit, but some things are nagging. My mum is so excited about her only daughter's wedding and is always put out that I am not concerned about the engagement lace color combo, or the exotic aso oke combo she is thinking of combining. I am just not into the whole drama. Left to me I would just pay a planner and smile for the camera. In fact, left to me we would just go to the registry and be done in an hour. But my mum has only one daughter, and his mum wants to have a ball cos she especially loves him, never mind that they have had two weddings this year already - his sister got married in March, his brother, two weeks later in April.
The funniest part is when I see him, all my fears melt away. But I would like to know if it is normal.
My mum's over three decades older than me so to sacrifice all for a man was the norm then.
All the married ladies pls help me out....

Paris said it all....

2009-07-08T07:36:00.004+01:00

It all seemed so unreal - someone even twitted that he expected Michael to jump out of the casket and tell us it was a lie and make us roll our eyes and say, 'Oh pleez! Stop your theateritics for Pete's sake!'

But it was not to be.

I tried to watch the Michael Jackson Memorial, but I live in Nigeria, where the only TV station to show it live decided that the nine o clock news was more important than watching the service - they cut into the live feed with their news. Nigeria has not changed and we get six o clock news so why didn't they just leave it on for Pete's sake? Its not like they interrupt football anyway.

Even the internet wasnt cooperating - guess it was my low 115Kbps bandwidth that wouldn't help. So this morning as I opened my yahoomail, I saw AP news about it and clicked. This is what I found. And It finally sunk in....

By SANDY COHEN, AP Entertainment Writer – Tue Jul 7, 9:35 pm ET
LOS ANGELES –
For all the hasty preparations, hand-wringing over security, breathless media competition to scoop details and soul-wrenching performances, the essence of Michael Jackson's memorial service came down to 20 poignant, powerful seconds: the moment when 11-year-old Paris-Michael Jackson inched up to the microphone and, in a statement no one saw coming, referred to the late pop superstar as "Daddy."
It was a remarkably humanizing moment. Then again, it was remarkable just to see Jackson's three children in public to begin with.

A fiercely protective father, Jackson rarely brought his brood out into public, covering their faces in veils and party masks to protect their identity when he did.
Now here they were, unveiled, before an audience of thousands at Staples Center and millions more around the globe. Starting out seated in the front row, the three youngest Jacksons eventually joined the rest family onstage as the two-hour service wound to a close.
Dressed in the same dark suits and yellow ties as the rest of the Jackson men, 12-year-old Michael Joseph Jr., known as Prince Michael, chewed gum and toted the memorial service program; 7-year-old Prince Michael II, known as Blanket, held his program and clutched a Michael Jackson doll.

Paris, wearing a black dress with white trim, turned a small patent-leather purse over in her hands as other family members spoke. And then a dramatic hush fell over the crowd as family members whispered that the little girl, whose lifetime of public exposure amounted to a small handful of paparazzi photographs, Paris-Michael wanted to say something.

She furtively emerged from the tight circle of family members, who rushed to lower the microphone to her level. And with her uncle Randy on one side and aunt Janet on the other, Jackson's little girl stood center stage.

"I just wanted to say," Paris began weakly.
"Speak up, sweetheart, speak up," Janet encouraged, sweeping the girl's long hair back. "And get close."
Paris put one hand behind her neck, another on the microphone, and began again.
"Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine," she said, her tiny voice cracking.
Rebbie and Marlon Jackson moved in closer to comfort their niece. She shut her eyes tight.

Then she wrapped her hands — little fingernails painted red — around the microphone and fought back tears as she continued: "And I just wanted to say I love him — so much."
She collapsed in tears into her aunt's arms.
"It's OK, baby. It's OK," Janet Jackson said as she held Paris close. Prince joined in on the hug.

And all at once, Jackson wasn't the larger-than-life King of Pop, or Wacko Jacko the tabloid freak. He was a doting father who had left three adoring young children behind.

He was "Daddy."

Nicely said. Goodbye MJ.
I am still crying...

Do you have scars like that too?

2009-06-20T00:35:00.000+01:00

Life is so funny. And so painful. I used to think of myself as an easy-to-heal soul, you know, the type that forgives easily, and forgets.
I still heal easily - on the surface that is. My skin heals quick and I have no scars, no matter how severe. But I am wrong in my assumption.
My heart has scars that wont dissappear. It is odd that the two scars that are prominent were brought on by similar circumstances, and by friends. The first was from a bossom friend who I loved deeply. I really felt for this babe. Don't get me wrong - I was not attracted to her, I just saw her as the sister I never had. I went out of my way to please her and help her. It wasn't that she was ill, or disabled or anything. In fact, she was and is a beauty - long legs, pretty smile, lovely figure. Around her, short, pudgy me was not self-conscious however. I felt at home with her. It didnt even matter that we were of different religions. All that mattered was her happiness. Our friendship stood the test of time and other people's jealousy, but it was destined to crack one day, and by something so flimsy, I still cannot believe that she actually believed I could say such a thing.
Well, it ended. I was bitter, sad, hurt and angry. Even when the truth came to light, I kept away. I had wrapped myself in a cocoon to heal.
Its been years, but even now, if I go visiting, her family still treat me like their own.
But everything I read something about her no Facebook, or see something she gave me in my room (I refused to throw them away or hide them), I feel a pang in my heart. Why did it have to end that way? Maybe she didn't love me as much as I loved her? So many questions will remain unanswered.
The scar still pulses even now.
Then the second one was woken up tonight. I got through a shaky year three with help from an angel. I found him on the internet - he's a math whiz, knows more than 14 programming languages and was alive during world war 2. He's a veteran, and has survived so many things. I admired him, and looked forward to hearing from him everytime. He's also a crazy man - one time he decided he was relocating to another state, but rather than fly he chose to go by road. That sounds alright until you read this - he reconstructed a bicycle and attached a trail of six black containers to the back with three wheels. He traveled for almost a month, slept on the road or in parks, and subsisted on little or no food. I had to plead with him to notify at least one member of his family (yes he has grand kids but is estranged from the family because he chose to live on the streets) before starting out, so in case something 'happens', they would know.
All was rosy until I made a mistake. A classmate of mine needed help for his project and his topic was something I was sure that my'Grandad' (yeah that is what i called him then), could handle, so I introduced the 'mate, and told Grandad to please help.
That was the last I heard from Grandad.
By that time, he'd gotten an apartment, gotten a job, had a girlfriend he intended to marry, but something had happened to his back, so I was in 'caring' mode - checking on him with mails to make sure he was ok. We had gotten so close that he didnt feel any restraint in giving me his POBox address and number (I think I sent a card once sef). We even exchanged pictures.
Looking back, I wonder, what did I do wrong? He just up and refused to respond. I got frantic. Was he alive? Searching his name on the net said yes he was, and from the dates I could see he was still active. Was it my religion? He's a staunch atheist but I never pressured him to convert - the highest I did was tell him I was praying for his recovery. Was it my friend? It might have been, because Jide could have been a yahoo boy without my knowledge.
I will never know.
Grandad even wrote me a story, and sent it to me. It was sweet. The scar is still there and throbbing.
R and Kent Dolan - scars that refuse to fade and go away.
Do you have scars like that too?

Plans List?Carried out or not?

2009-06-08T14:19:00.002+01:00

Have you ever planned the next year of your life and then after a few months, realized that nothing went according to plan? Well it happened to me. Back in October, I knew where I wanted to be in a year's time: I was going to be married, with my husband and I studying in a foreign country for masters degrees. We had applied and then things began to happen.
First my Dad felt I was rushing to get married (Never mind that he'd insisted when I was 17 that by the time I reach my age, I should have given him 2 grandkids for him to spoil). Then my acclaimed alma mater university refused to send my transcripts to the schools I had applied to. As if that was not enough, I had not taken my TEOFL exam which was required to apply.

Its now June. I lost the admissions because my transcripts never arrived even though my university claims they have sent it. My father has finally agreed to let me get married BUT at his own convenient time, and his own way (he has just declared he doesnt want us to print invitation cards - imagine that!). Of course Vicky did not pursue his own admission since I wasnt going.
I have a job I am comfortable at, but might soon leave because I will have to be the one to move over to Vicky's side. I really don't know what the future holds - I don't see myself as one of those strong Amazonian women that combine school with bringing up 2 kids and running a job all at the same time (just because my mum can doesnt mean I can, right?).

I had begun to despair that I might never do that Masters degree in the nearest future, until someone sent me a url for an online university. And the thought stuck! Why not get an online masters instead? Why not search for a cheap one, something that wont take too much of my time and money? And the search began!

www.uopeople.org is a free online university that is available to the whole world. However, there are only two courses - Computer Science (BSc and Associate) and Business Administration (BSc and Associate). They are currently not accredited, and do not receive credits transfer either. Check them out for more details.

I found two sites that compile all the information you need - ELearningSite and All Learn.
They have everything you need to search for!
Explore people! You might be busy all the time but time is passiing you by - every worker's nightmare is working for ten years and some young over-educated kid takes their place because their qualification had become extinct!

Brush yourself up - Start now!

Wake up call

2009-05-26T08:46:00.004+01:00

After a stressful day at a client's site, I got home feeling dog-gone tired. I went to check on my Mum and got a heart-stopper. After I left for work in the morning, my brother found her struggling to breath. He called Dad who got a heart specialist hospital name and address in Nigeria and sent it to my brother. He rushed her there and after several checks, the verdict was: she's overworked, overstressed, and in need of rest. Her flunctuating high blood pressure, low resistance to illnesses and skipping heartbeat will get worse if we don't act fast. She needs to reduce her workload drastically. She needs to rest more. She needs to stop worrying about things. She needs to change her diet totally.
It was a wake up call for me. All the time that she was being prodded with needles and xrayed I was thinking only of work. Even as I entered the house that was what was on my mind. To be honest, if she hadn't chided me that I didn't ask how her day was, I probably wouldn't have asked since the question always got me more than a quarter of an hour wasted to gist. I'm glad I did. My brother and I put her on house arrest till further notice. My Dad is beside himself and calls within the hour-he's said he'll pay the driver's balance if the one she wants to employ is asking for more than she can afford. I have decreed that she draft her resignation letter from one of the three jobs she works at. Life is precious. She's laboured for so much of her life, its not now that she should be reaping the harvest that she should go. No way. If she proves stubborn we'll seize her phones, then limit access to her from every angle. I love her so much but I must tell you - its going to be a very conscious decision and action to start showing it. I have to stop focusing 180% of my attention on work and start focusing on family and social life. Its getting gradually pathetic- I had to start scrolling through my phone book before I could dig up possible candidates for my wedding train. It seems I've drifted so far away from the real world that I've left my friends behind. And I was so tied up I didn't see the signs that my mother's health was deteriorating. God help me to LIVE!

How could he be so selfish?

2009-05-03T21:02:00.002+01:00

I want to vent. Last week I had to mail the office that I wouldn't make it in that day. Then I had to send a file too so I used my flash drive on my brother's laptop for a few minutes. Later in the evening he came to tell me his laptop was acting pretty wierd- conclusion? There was a virus causing havoc on it. So I told him I'd scan my flash in the office, then ask advice on how to help him out.
I got to the office and I scanned the flash, no issues. Then I double-clicked the drive and viola, my system started shutting down. I panicked and cried out. I called an angel who sent me a link to download a tool that he said would help out. Needless to say I was paralyzed throughout that day- I could not do any work. I got home and still gave him the link. He downloaded the tool but it was not effective.
I went out, got back home and you know what? My darling brother had gone to see a friend I'd introduced him to who's a hardware guru. And guess what? He took the internet connection so I could not browse for another solution.
And guess what? He didn't take my office system which I had to bring home cos I was in trouble because me the virus I picked from his system. No. He took only his laptop. Then he got back and started telling me what a whizkid my friend was.
Then he capped it all by saying he didn't know I wouldn't have minded if he'd taken the system. He then crushed my patience by concluding that it was not his fault I had a virus on my office system.
IMAGINE THAT?! It was not his fault I was in trouble?! I'm sooo mad at him right now! Its like I am dreaming! How could he be so selfish?

EKITI KETE

2009-04-29T20:57:00.000+01:00

What is this wahala now? Why must such a tiny state in Nigeria cause so much wahala? It is not even in the center, it is not even an original state but a cut out of another. I really dont understand why every newspaper feels they must print something about Ekiti on the front page every single day. And this has been the case since it was created. The latest sensation is the election rerun that even our busy President had to take time to go and see. I mean, you would think with all the monitoring eyes, everything would run smoothly but no, another twist in the saga has been announced.
The outside world thinks we should be ashamed of ourselves. I a jsut praying that it does not get bloody, and that Ekiti will stop trying to keep attention all the time.

Am not dissing Ekiti o[that was for Vicky who will soon be my husband, so he'll not quote me after the wedding - he's from Ekiti :D]. Am just saying they should behave themselves.

Worse than this? Nope

2009-04-29T20:46:00.001+01:00

As I reply the last person to leave me in the office and wave goodbye I glance at the windows. It'd gotten dark and i knew it must be the clouds i'd seen earlier. The next time i look at the clock on my pc screen its a few minutes past six. I'd just read my pal kafo's latest blog post and I smiled sadly because I understood her pain. I was right where she was at the moment.

Then I heard the heavy downpour outside. There was no way I was leavin the premises in the rain. While i waited for it to subside i took my time to think up am apt comment and wrote it. At the dot of seven Iwas outside the office gates with a shower cap on my hair. I waste ten more minutes in the light showers before heading to New Garage where i find am almost filled bus heading in my direction. After me there were only three passengers left. I removed my shower cap and stared out into the rain. It was getting worse by the minute. I waited expectantly for what I knew would come next: dripping.

You see,new garage buses are known for several things which include the following-

1. Old, rickety and dirty buses that couldn't possibly have scaled through Lagos's supposedly functioning MOT vehicle checks.

2. Then the buses are so unique, that when they commence on the journey, you can look down and see the ground, you can look up and see the skies as well.

3. The noise they make makes an atheist pray for safe arrival. Its always a big task praying everytime I have to go home by that route but this was the first time I was taking it in the rain.

By the time the conductor finished collecting his fare from everyone I had found just the right spot to lean towards to escape the relentless droplets and not inconvenience my seat mates as well. Keeping that position was no easy task. I could not occupy my mind with other things. Then the bus broke down after leaving the garage. At that point I burst out laughing.

There I was, sitting in a bus that I was scared would fall apart any minute, leaking rain on me and broken down in the middle of a busy bridge. It was funny because I had been sad and depressed about my life that morning and it got extremely worse after reading Kafo's recent post. Then now this. What could possibly make my life worse than this?

Two Days Later
Today I heard about another accident on my route home. The same spot I had watched an accident take place months ago. This time it was six unsuspecting cars, and not one. And from what I was told, no survivors. Days ago I was melancholy, and thinking what could make my life worse than it is? Well, I take that though back because my soul is filled with Thanksgiving at the moment. I should always be glad to be alive even if that is all I can thank God for.
You should too....

To supplement or not to supplement?

2009-04-14T10:54:00.003+01:00

Ok, its day 9, and I must confess I broke the rules a little. Rather than not eat fruits I chose not to eat at all. I didn't feel hunger pangs and I must say Vicky had to insist we go eat when he heard I had not eaten for over 10 hrs.

I travelled for the easter break - went for Vicky's elder brother's wedding. I had to go a day earlier so I could participate in the preparations. This time we were on the husband's side of the wedding so we really didn't have much to do, but the little we did was a lot.

I learnt to use my creative imagination again - did a lot of ribbon design and frills and twirls and stuff. We had to make the wedding Bible and the Wedding letter (Those of us that are Yoruba, know these things) frilly and nice-looking. We also had to tie ribbons on every other item - yam tubers, packs of 6-pack can drinks (up to 20 of that), and even a packet of sugar. At one point I asked if there was a goat on the list - at least something would wear the ribbons proudly.

Well, the engagement has taken place, and the wedding was fantastic - everyone turned out I guess, and kafo I saw your parents, and they still look lovely and young. Three days and I ate only once each day. Then I get back and read Solomonsydelle's comment on my last post, and begin to think - I do need to supplement my diet for those nutrients I cannot get from the fruits.

I can use GNLD supplements but that is just one option. Anybody got other ideas? Right now all I am eating is pineapple, apple, and oranges...I need more ideas!

Progress...

2009-04-09T17:46:00.002+01:00

Hmm...I weighed 71kg on sunday,

65kg on tuesday,

622 on wednesday,

hmm....Can't wait to climb the scales tonight! And all on pineapple and oranges!

Life is good!

Probably by this time next week, I'd be back to 58kg!

Wish me luck!

Fruit Diet

2009-04-08T16:58:00.001+01:00

Sunday afternoon
I finally decided that I am going to begin a fruit diet. Nothing else but fruits - pineapple, apple, oranges, pawpaw, you name it. ONLY. No rice, no ofada stew, no mouthwatering vegetable stew with delightful pieces of ponmo, stock fish, periwinkle and crayfish in it. No ewa gayin (pronounce as spelt), no fried rice, no jollof rice, nothing else.
I climbed the scales - I weigh 71kg (or is it pounds? Will hav to take a closer look next time)

Monday Evening
It was tiring but I did it. I ignored all the tempting smells around me and focused on the tiny purple grapes I'd bought for lunch. Oh...did I forget to mention that my first meal will be at 3 pm as well? I will take nothing before 3 - not even water.

Tuesday Evening
I am soo tired. And weak. I weighed myself. No it cannot be possible - I just had a dinner of pineapple chips and an orange. I lost 6 kg? 6? Its not possible! But this is just d second day!
Wow.....but it still does not compensate for the pain I had to endure while watching my brother consume Semovita and some delicious smelling draw soup with pieces of 'stuff' that he kept chewing noisily in it.

Wednesday morning
What do I wear to work? Er...I havent ironed a sshirt and as usual there is no electricity. I pick up a shirt I tried on on Sunday and had shaken my head at the tightness (which meant until I lose weight I cannot touch it), and then I tried it...and spent almost an hour preening in front of the mirror as I tried others.
My waist was down, my belly was down! I can wear these wonders! But three days ago I could not!

It got me wondering...maybe I did have an issue with protein and carbohydrates.....hmmm...

But I still miss amala to gbona feli feli with ewedu and gbegiri soup. I don't think I can survive without eba and ogbono soup. I think I will die if I can't have pounded yam and egusi soup or even moimoi or akara gbigbona...or peppersoup...or isi ewu...Ah...my mouth is salivating again...hve to stop...
Will keep you posted

Meanwhile I began following solomonsydelle on Twitter and she's also an indian food fan. I asked her for some recipes and she said she'll help out so I will keep you posted on that one....Indian food is supposed to be well - rounded and balanced, plus I dont have to live my life without ata rodo because i want to stay slim....will keep you all posted on that as well....

Ahhh...pepper soup, kai...I gotta go bury my mind in work again!

I WALKED

2009-04-03T22:32:00.001+01:00

Well, tis been a while and I know am at fault, but programming is really taking my time these days. Its as if I must share myself among it all - programming, social life, hubby-to-be, exercise and family (not in that order o!). I am striving to find a balance.
Well, what has been going on? A lot, I tell you. I chatted and spoke with my best friend mentyola, a few days ago, and I can tell you that distance has not spoilt anything in between us. It is hard to find a friend who just loves you the way you are - and wants you to be a better person. If you find that in a person hold on tight!

Needless to say I have gained weight again (my cousin will kill me when she reads this!). Yes, my tummy is bulging again, and am without makeup most days and I don't really care about how I dress - again. I guess its back to 'almost depressed' zone. I have been burying myself in work, but so far its not really helping. Several factors are weighing me down - thanks to my marvelous former school, my transcript has not gotten to the proposed masters school, so I have missed my admission this year. Next, my Dad has refused to select a rep for him (in case he cannot make it) to my wedding. I cannot blame him for it, or throw a tantrum as I want to because I understand - I don't want to, but I understand.

Vicky's younger sister got married some days ago. It was a successful affair (thank God for that!) and I was opportuned to attend (and help out). But I must say that life did not change afterwards. Everything remained the same. I could barely spend some quality time with Vicky even though I stayed for more than 4 days in his state. He was so busy that he got really tired everyday - I wondered sometimes where he got the strength to walk even.

I got asked this question a lot - "So when is your own wedding coming up?", so much that I got sick of it. But I survived. That is what matters, right?

I look around me and wonder why am not praising God for where I am. Oh, and then there is the cubicle. I spent some time wit TopBoss 002 and got to really like him a lot. Then we get back to base and everyone is looking at me like I grew another horn. Boss 003 actually went as far as saying that I am too forward with him. Like I should be shaking like a leaf and hold myself rigid around him as the rest of the cubicle do.

I don't get that point, really.

Is it the same guy that was teasing me about marriage? The same guy that we went hunting for chocolate for a 15 yr old kid so he could impress her that he brought it from home? Is it the same guy that joked with my brother-in-law, or that put a smile on my mother-inlaw's face? OR is it the same guy that was competing with me on the flight back in Sudoku?That was extremely concerned when my ear hurt for several minutes during landing?OR that fibbed with my brother when he met him?

I just don't get it!

Around him I was myself - the way I am around everyone else! Why should I freeze up or give him a forced smile because he is Boss? He knows I respect him. And he knows I love my work and do not shirk my duties, so why not be myself?

I am sooo annoyed about that right now!

That bit of advice has actually turned me against the rest of the cubicle. Seriously, I enjoyed a friendship with my former bosses and I don't see why it should be any different here. Rather am going to be on my toes around the rest of this crew, cos if they are calculative around the TopBosses, then I should be wary of what they might do around me.

Tis just soo hard to pretend for me! If I like you I like you. If I don't you can tell. If I am pissed with you you can tell - most times I even let you feel it life and direct but once am through its gone.

Oh....I went to church on Wednesday - midweek service and anointing service. And afterwards I stood for an hour waiting for a bus, taxi or bike.

None.

Nada.

Zilch.

So I began the long walk home. I walked from Agidingbi to Alausa, then crossed the Lagos - Ibadan expressway and walked through CMD to my area, then home (abeg somebody helep me convert that to kilometres for those wey no no Lagos well well). Halfway home I stepped into a puddle in the dark, so by the time I entered my compound I had caked dirt on my left foot and some of my right foot.

It was late and it was dark, but I was able to make the journey, and I just want to give God the thanks.

THANK YOU LORD FOR YOUR GUIDANCE AND PROTECTION.
THANK YOU LORD FOR YOUR EVER-PRESENT FAVOUR AND LOVE

THANK YOU LORD FOR A NEW MONTH OF BLESSINGS AND PROMOTION.

I am grateful....I walked.....

Attention Card Holder

2009-02-23T15:41:00.001+01:00

I am totally angry with the youth of today. I am talking about all those dudes that sit in front of a PC/Laptop and think up ways to scam people. Now they are not even zeroing in on foreigners anymore.

No o! They don't hide behind the finger, saying "It is colonization money" anymore. Now we in Nigeria are the targets. Everyone that has an email address is a supreme target.

Some might say its not news, but I will tell you what got me riled up this afternoon. Some stupid kolo person sent me this mail:

InterSwitch Nigeria Limited= Attention Customer: Please Confirm Your InterSwitch Security Upgrade 2009

From: "InterSwitch Nigeria Limited"
To: undisclosed-recipients

[then with the interswitch logo]

Attention Card Holder,

This is to notify you that our services are being upgraded to a new, better and more secured system . You are now required to CLICK HERE and register all your DEBIT CARDS, X-CHANGE CARDS, and CASH CARDS online IMMEDIATELY so as to enable your card to work on our new servers. Only registered cards will work with the ATM machines.

Note that in order to continue using your card for ATM transactions, you MUST register your card(s) online IMMEDIATELY BY CLICKING HERE .If you do not register your ATM card(s) immediately, you will no longer be able to use your cards with the ATM machines or for ATM transactions and your card(s) will be cancelled or terminated.

Adhere to this instruction on receiving this message and click here immediately to register your card. Our goal is to satisfy all our customers need.

InterSwitch Nigeria Limited

Copyright(c)2009. InterSwitch Limited. All Rights Reserved
[end of mail]

it is soooooooooooooooo annoying! These people are terrible - I can pick up to five things that shows they are dupes!

First the security upgrade cannot happen without the banks not knowing. Everyone's ATM is connected to banks, and since the banks are Interswitch primary customers, it is reasonable that the banks notify their customers, NOT interswitch.

Second, interswitch makes too much money - how come they don't have their own mail system? Why use aol? It is not possible that they do not have "interswitch@interswitch.com". Even that is silly, because they would have a dept that will use something like "info@interswitch" or "helpdesk@interswitch".

Thirdly, there is no direct url to the site. I mean that is the biggest mistake!

Fourthly, the copyright for the site cannot be 2009 - that will mean it was just created which is impossible!

And Lastly, the threat is very unreasonable - Interswitch cannot cancel a card without first notifying the issuing bank. It is the bank that grants the permission to them to cancel or freeze an ATM card.

I hate these lazy nogood jobless stupid blokes, and every chance I get I curse them with Deuteronomy 25verses 15 down. They are sooo lazy! Their counterparts abroad are putting their intelligence to good use, in developing apps that will be beneficial to their communities while these lazy bones are just coming up with ways to dupe other people of their hardearned money.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

Even if you offer them a honest way out, they are too lazy to do it right!

I pray that some innocent soul does not fall for this one....

Is it him or is it the other guy?

2009-02-22T19:49:00.002+01:00

"Daydah I need your help right now!" Melissa moaned into my ears.

I forced my eyes open to look at the time. It was past midnight, but she was obviously distressed. Ever happy Mel was crying on the phone. I sat up slowly.

"What is the matter Mel?" I asked as I forced my brain to get out of sleep mode. She started crying and I spent another three minutes telling her to calm down. Her crying subsided and I asked what was bothering her.Seems she was confused. So confused that she was crying. She said she didn't know what to do with her life.

Last time I checked, she was counting the days to her wedding to this fabulous guy that she loved very much, so I wondered what could have happened to shake her world.

She started off her tale all muddled up, but after a few sentences I was able to pick up what the problem was. She was on her way to the altar to marry one guy, who'd been her senior in high school and was made (definition: had a job, a house and a car) and was crazy about her, but she also liked this other guy that had been a friend for years and seemed to be getting closer to her by the day.

It didn't help matters that her fiance worked and lived in another state (like mine). She feared that she was developing feelings for the second guy because she could sense that he also loved her like crazy. She didn't want to ruin Mr Fiance's life by telling him she wanted time out to think so she was bottling it up inside.

Yesterday she got two calls - one from Mr. Fiance who she didn't really understand (these days), and the other from Mr. Nice Guy who connected with her on many levels. Both calls cut, but while Mr Nice Guy called back to say a proper goodbye, Mr Fiance didnt call back. Prior to that she had spent a few hours in the company of Mr Nice Guy who, she said, was very very 'nice' and 'understood her on a high level' (whatever that meant).

I asked her if that was the reason she was crying and she said she just could not stand the confusion. Upon asking what she was really confused about, she replied that she hated that she had to make a choice.

Viola! We had gotten to the root of the matter!

She was feeling that she had to make a choice, which meant that she was putting both guys on the same level and comparing them for faults.
I asked her if she loved Mr Fiance and for the first time in months she wailed an "I'm not sure!"
I asked her if she had feelings for Mr Nice Guy and she shouted a 'No', before whispering a barely audible 'Maybe'.

I sighed. Why, you ask? I sighed because I was in that same spot last weekend. And I could not give her a tried and tested solution. All I could tell her was what I DID to get out of my confusion.

I told her to sit down and clear her head. I told her to get a pen and paper and write down these questions:
Why are you attracted to Mr Fiance?
What ten things do you love about him?
What ten things drives you to anger about him?
Can you live with these?
List ten reasons you agreed to marry him.
Do you see him as the father of your children?
How do you know that he loves you?
Does he set aside time for you?
Are you on top of his priority list (or close enough - we all know how men put football even before their wives)?

Now get another sheet of paper and write down these questions:
What attracts you to Mr Nice Guy?
What ten things do you like about him?
What ten things do you detest about him?
What was his reaction when he heard you were engaged?
Before then was he interested in you?
Can you picture him beside you?
What is your family's stand about him?
How does he relate with Mr Fiance?

Then ask yourself these questions:
In thirty, forty years time, where do you see yourself, careerwise, financially, and in terms of family?
Which of these men understand this vision and are willing to join you in building it?
Which of these men will stand by you through thick and thin?
Which of these men will still love you if you had cancer?
And since we are African, which of these men will ignore their nagging mothers if (God forbid o!) you are unable to conceive to satisfy the woman's thirst for grandchildren?
Which of these two men will not put you down or condemn your work but build you up and boost your ego?

I made sure she wrote everything I said down, then I told her to fold the paper and go back to bed and cry if she still felt like it. It was good for her. I told her to look at the two pieces of paper again later in the day and answer the questions, then keep them back and if possible we could go through them together. She thanked me and we went to bed.

Sometimes we get confused, and we really don't know what we want. Its the devil's way of taking us off the path (ok I wont get preachy on you). But I find that often when I have set my mind on a particular path or a particular decision, it is afterwards that other options start showing themselves. Sometimes its good to take time off to re-evaluate but always remember to factor in the repercussions of changing your directions.

As for me, I made my choice, and I am going to stick to it. I have stuck to it for the past 3 years, and I could not possibly let a few months of attention from another guy jeopardize what I spent time to build - I particularly mean the double efforts put into building a long - distance relationship. It is not easy to build trust and intimacy over the phone, or internet. And the few moments you spend together are always too short - they end too quickly.

I hope Mel can pick her forever-man and stick to her decision. I know I love Vicky and I know I can live with him. That is okay for me because there is no Mr Perfect out there.

My Love to You

2009-01-21T14:05:00.003+01:00

Please take time to ready this story. It will affect your
life positively.

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!" and, "I didn't know others liked me so much." were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose.

The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students was killed in Viet Nam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.
As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded: "yes."

Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot."

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

"We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.

"They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.

The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."

Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album."

"I have mine too," Marilyn said "It's in my diary."

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

And One Way To Accomplish This Is: Send a list of nice things to those you treasure in your life. If you do not send it, you will have, once again passed up the wonderful opportunity to do something nice and beautiful.

If you've read this, it is because someone cares for you and it means there is probably at least someone for whom you care.

If you're "too busy" to take those few minutes right now to write a list of special things about that person that you care for, would this be the VERY first time you didn't do that little thing that would make a difference in your relationships?

The more people that you show that you care for (by compiling a list of nice things about them), the better you'll be at reaching out to those you care about.

Remember, you reap what you sow. What you put into the lives of others comes back into your own.

May Your Day Be As Blessed As You Are Special

the boil on my toe is almost gone..

2009-01-16T15:16:00.003+01:00

Yes I had a boil on the second toe on my left leg. It was horrible as it ached me to no end. At one point, I thanked God I was at work because if I was at home, I could have found a knife to cut off the toe and end my misery. It was that bad.

Prior to that, I had malaria and a chesty cough which managed to make me go from my cheerful self down down into melancholy. And I gained weight in the recuperation period. Yes, I GAIN weight when I am ill, and not vice versa. Its why I fight to stay healthy all the time.

So now I have a big tummy, and fragile left foot, but you know what?

I am happy.

I made it into 2009. I have a left foot to complain about. I have weight to shed, which means I had access to food in the first place. I now have a job, and my brain is buzzing with ideas on how I want my year to be like.

I am grateful to be among the living.

Its not a feat I accomplished myself. I have God to thank for that.

But I have something to worry about...

I wonder what He has in store for me this year, because if last year is anything to go by, I am going to be surprised out of my pants...again!

Thank you, 2008!

2008-12-19T11:39:00.000+01:00

Hi,
I just wanted to thank you all for being a part of my 2008,
for listening to me, when I made sense and when i did not,
for being there for me,
for reaching out to me even when I seemed too distant,
for calming me in the midst of the storm,
for helping me to direct my gaze upwards, towards the Son, when I felt that the darkness around me was about to envelope me,
for praying for me,
for loving me just the way I am,
for being you all the time around me, and not some pretentious person,
for caring,
for understanding,
for moving me forward,
for loving me,
for being my friend.

I want to also thank you in advance for ensuring that you attain the goals you set for yourselves for 2009,
for becoming the giants I know you are,
for drawing closer to God,
for making me proud of who you are, and what you have achieved in 2009.

I shall play my part and continue to pray for you,
try not to matchmake you with each other (am trying my best already!),
and try to create more quality time for you,

Thank you for my 2008!
May we all see beyond 2009 in Jesus name, Amen

The Honda CRV...

2008-12-16T22:35:00.002+01:00

I saw something terrible today that I cannot even cry...

I was in a Bus going to Ketu along Gbagada Expressway, and the driver was overtaken by a fine Honda CRV, silver in color. I was not able to see the person driving, but that didn't stop me from lamenting in my mind that I was still not "allowed" to drive my own Toyota which was being warmed up every morning by my mum's driver.

I had barely woken up from my self - pity (*rubbish as it wont make any sense to you, but you can read about it) only to notice that we were only 5 passengers in the bus.

I started pleading the blood of Jesus, and trying hard to blot out all the 'One Chance' stories I had heard from my mind.
We had reached the foot of the bridge, almost at Iyana Oworo bus stop, when I heard several shouts.
The gala and bottled water boys were running helter skelter. I looked back and saw a tanker rushing down the bridge.

It was out of countrol. All the cars in the middle lane swerved towards the right lane and their drivers turned back to watch what would happen next.

The collision took place. Everybody shouted. As the cars in front of us moved forward a bit I got a better view.

I saw the CRV.

No.
I saw what remained of teh CRV. Trapped in between the petrol tanker that slammed into it, and the trailer with a container in front of it.

It was sqaushed like paper. Petrol was gushing out of the tanker, and of the car. The first gala boys that got over their shock and raced to the car raised their hands over their heads in lament.

That was it.

Someone that was driving along jejely, on a Tuesday afternoon, will never get home.

Someone who had reached the stage of earning a living, gotten to the level of owning a car, was never going to see the year 2009.

Someone who had done absolutely nothing wrong, was dead.

The petrol tanker driver could not shout, his passenger came down, but it was futile.

The squashed up paper was what was left of the car I was admiring just seven minutes before.

I could not cry.

I could not shout.

I sat there, and I could not even think.

I was able to comprehend that I had actually wished I was driving my own car right behind that CRV, only seconds before it was hit.
If I had been driving, I would have taken that lane, because it always seems to be the fastest.

And I would have been crushed....like paper.

I thank my God for everything He has done in my life.
I thank Him for orchestrating my path, and leading me towards His purpose for me, never tiring with all my questions and petulant cries.

I am grateful, so grateful in fact that I wont pout about the car anymore.