WHAT CAN WE DO?

Once a nation of peace, the envy of all her peers

Once a mentor to her counterparts around the globe

Once a prominent figure in the economic world

What happened to Nigeria?

"There's no light, we don't have water...

  Fuel prices have gone up again, another strike is underway...

  They have bombed another village...

  I'm tired of this country, what can we do?"

From the military to civilian regime

Transiting from khaki to agbada

From slavery to freedom

Our anthem remains "what can we do?"

"Yes! Our problem is corruption"

Who or what exactly is corrupt?

Giving the usher #1000 so you could get a good seat at the seminar

Smiling to your friend and asking, "what can we do?"

Always ready to lambast the government

Forgetting that it is of the people, for the people and by the people

You refused to come out and vote and she sold her vote for #1000

"We need the money, what can we do?"

A nation filled with political parties that don't have the masses interest at heart

Our Activists never see anything good in the country

The youths prefer to tweet and retweet solutions from their beds

"We are young, what can we do?"

A nation so blessed with natural resources

Importing what is grown on our very own soil

We  adore the western culture but look down on our own cultural values

"Their own is better, what can we do?"

A nation gradually becoming a centre for kidnap and terrorism

Serial rapists, pedophiles make the country unsafe for our children

Instead of protesting and speaking against such violence

The society looks the other way and asks, "what can we do?"

53 years on and she is regressing

The giant of africa is sleeping and scavengers are hunting her down

Willing to fight back but not ready to take the fall

Her people are asking, "what can we do?"

Suffering and smiling is our unpopular motto

Watching and waiting for the heavens to build Nigeria

Instead of being the change that we crave and seek

We would rather make jokes and ask, "what can we do?"

Stand up Nigerians and stand out in your field

Nobody will build your country for you

Seek today to answer the begging question

"In pursuit of Nigeria's progress, what have I done?"

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE ANNIVERSARY  NIGERIA.

You are not built-to-fall

You are beau-ti-ful

A DAY IN LIFE WITHOUT TECHNOLOGY

Dear diary,

"Buzz!!!..." I was so sure I heard the alarm ring in my sleep but I was mistaken. I was too tired to get up for work but it was Rakiya's voice that did the trick. "My friend, get up! Its 8:30 do you want to lose your job?!". I jumped up from the bed when I heard "job", I wasn't ready to visit the unemployment market just yet. I tried unlocking my phone to see the time for myself but it didn't come on. I was too late for work to even be bothered by the phone. I rushed to have my bath, jumped into my french gown, slipped into my flats and made way for the bus-stop. There was no time for my usual beauty routine (What's that saying about beauty being in the eyes of the beholder? Yeah, that was my motto for the day).

 

The queue at the bus-stop was a turn-off. I took one look at it and started walking to the office. On a good day, walking would get me to the office in 25 minutes but there I was at the office in 15 minutes. Luckily, Margaret Thatcher (my boss) had not yet arrived. I dropped my bag on my desk and quickly dashed to the back room to make an inventory of supplies from the previous day. I finished before the supplies for the day came in. I got back to my desk and my boss called me into her office. She wanted the report on supplies from the first quater of the year. Fortunately for me, I had already started work on the report so I went to get my laptop. The laptop refused to come on when I pressed the start button and that's when the coin dropped in my head. My phone did not unlock in the morning because the battery had drained and since PHCN had been acting up the last three days, I couldn't charge it. So here I was with a drained laptop and no charger. I didn't bother going back to her office because I was not ready for her tongue lashing. I stayed by my desk trying to scribble notes from my memory when she called me again. My heart skipped a beat.  I went in but this time she was with a guest.  She gave me some money and whispered something into my ear. I was relieved. She wanted me to buy lunch for her guest. Since it was lunch time at the office, I decided to kill two birds with one stone by going for my lunch break as well.

 

I placed my order at the restaurant and was waiting to be served when I saw le boo. I did the eye contact thing again and looked away. That had been my story the last two months. We never said anything to each other but whenever we saw each other at the restaurant, we made eye contact and that was it. I named him le boo when I started seeing him in my dreams. The food was served and it was only then that I realised how hungry I was. I couldn't help but imagine what would be trending on twitter. Surely someone must have tweeted a grammatical error and as usual it must have gone viral on the internet. Linda Ikeji must have posted a new gist on her blog about another celebrity that had bought a new car. As I was day dreaming, le boo walked up to my table and smiled. I was so shy that I couldn't even look at him. He asked for permission to join me at the table and I hurriedly agreed. We got talking and I laughed at everything he said. Looking back now, I don't think he was that funny maybe I was just too happy. I was still enjoying myself when Maria, my colleague at the office tapped my shoulder from behind and said, "where is your phone? Madam has been calling you since. She is shouting at the office, you better start running there." I stood up immediately and left the restaurant but not before I collected le boo's card. This was my second pot of soup for the day in the making and I wasn't ready for it. I got to the office and received all the insults doled out to me in good faith. I couldn't even explain to her that I left my phone at home because the battery had drained.

 

A sober me returned to my desk and just stared into space. I was through with my work for the day but with the 9-5 office rules in place, there was no way I could leave. I found some pieces of paper on the table and I started drawing. The drawing didn't make sense to me at first but when people started making good comments about it, my face lit up. Then I remembered high school and my love for the arts . Everything had changed now.

 

I was so engrossed in the drawing that I didn't realize evening had come. The cleaner was already locking up so I had to pack up and leave. Humming to myself, I walked home happily. I got home and Rakiya my flatmate had gone out as usual. PHCN was still acting up. Tired as I was, I jumped on my bed without changing my clothes. I wanted to sleep and forget the bad memories of the day. I was already dozing off when I felt rays of light on my eyelids. I opened my eyes and there was light! I started laughing. I laughed so hard my side ached. I had achieved the unimaginable, the unthinkable that day but I didn't realize it. I had gone a day in my life without technology. 😊 

WALKING AWAY.

Dear diary,

Over the last two weeks, I have been walking. The students association in school celebrated her annual health week that is usually declared open with a health walk. I'm always excited about so it is with great joy I go for the 45 mins walk with friends. We usually walk and dance, sharing flyers and toothpastes. Yeah I guess you saw us. It was all fun for me.

On Saturday, I walked again (yeah, it's more like a hobby now). This time it was the exquisite magazine walk against cancer. I wasn't keen on going at first but after my last post here, paranoia set in. I need to correct some deficiencies and so I've decided to walk away. I heard about the walk last year and wanted to attend but I couldn't. When I saw the opportunity again on Saturday, I readily went for it. We walked from eko atlantic to red carpet hall on ligali ayorinde rd. I enjoyed the walk not because of the number of celebs that showed up or the cold stone treat we got or even the freebies that were up for grabs (yeah right) but because it helped raise awareness about cancer. Yeah, i advice you go for your screening if you haven't because cancer is a silent killer and you don't want to be caught up in that web.

Cancer is a an abnormal growth of cells and tissues that can spread if not detected early. Breast, prostate and cervical cancers are rampant here in Nigeria, early detection is the key to surviving. It can be managed with radiotherapy and chemotherapy but non of these can be compared to the safe window you have if it is detected early. Enough of my medical rants, back to the walk!

As we walked, I noticed some differences between the walk on the island and that on the mainland. While walking on the mainland, we saw a lot of people on the road, even the flyers we were sharing finished but walking on the island, you would think there was a strike and people had to stay indoors. We had to start distributing flyers to people in their cars, being careful not to get killed in the process. 

Walking on the mainland, we danced and danced and danced but on the island people danced but were obviously more interested in painting their faces and taking pictures... Cheese!!!!

During the walk on the mainland, people dressed moderately not too loud (is it not what you have that you'll wear?) but on the island, you would think it was a party. Between the girls in Ankara head gears, shorts and the babes in heels like it was a red carpet event, I can only shake my head.

The walk on the mainland helped people to make new friends as some people kept setting p's at the back. On the island, I can't exactly say people made new friends because this faction was to busy hating on the other faction because they wore better clothes or looked too happy. Too many factions during the walk and I just wonder if they belong to the umbrella carrying party. *mouth zipped*.

The refreshments after the walk on the mainland were enough to keep body and soul together ( I won't say more than that) but on the island, it's like they were determined to replace the calories that were lost during the walk. I ain't complaining though. Please pass that ice cream bucket, thank you.

We walked for about 45 mins on the mainland and we were still energetic when we got back to school but after the 90 mins walk on the island, I slept like a baby. You would think I walked from Lagos to Ibadan.... *sigh*.

I could go on and on, like talking about the white couple that were dancing azonto or even the tiny lady that kept screaming "I'm tired, this walk is not for me" ( did she think we were going to ride in a limo? Hello! It's a walk) but I'll stop here for now.

Where are we walking to next week?  Beep me so we can walk together. We may even walk to the moon, who knows. 

Impossibility is nothing.

RICH WEDDING, POOR MARRIAGE

Dear diary,

It's another Saturday and it's time to attend yet another wedding... Yay!!. It's time to wear the oleku, velvet and shining lace. Rocking the 8 inches heels, It's time to take pictures with any and every body, picstich it and then post on instagram. It's time to smile at the bride and groom as they walk down the aisle with a new title "latest couple in town". We are going to eat our hearts out from small chops, to pepper soup and the main course----> rice  (if mogbomoyas' don't get there before us) and drink to stupor.  The single lady may find her knight and shinning amour while the bachelor may find the wife material he's been searching for. All these and more are some of the advantages of attending these weddings but do we really know what happens behind all the celebration?

The wedding is the festival/event/ceremony that marks the beginning of a marriage. The marriage is a reality that is meant to come to an end when you die (as we hear when the vow is read -----> till death do us apart). In preparation for the (church) wedding/ nikkah, a lot of pre-wedding events take place e.g the introduction, engagement dinner, bachelor night and bridal shower that is common to all tribes. Some tribes add some spice to their's such as the commiserative polo match done in the north, to the wine carrying and breaking of kola that's done in the east.  Let's not forget the wedding thanksgiving that is equally elaborate as well.

During all these events, the bride is expected to dress like a princess (as this is supposed to be a once in a lifetime thing) and this requires a lot of money. This is no big deal for those that are endowed in their pockets. The bride has to look radiant therefore you can only  marvel (and not complain even if you are hurt) at the amount of money that is pumped into a dress that can only be worn once. The groom is not spared in all of this. You may think "oh, he is just going to wear a suit and tie" but truth is the calibre of attire he decides to wear must match that of his bride. Good thing is that he can wear his again to church or even another wedding.

The couple get married and in 2 years time, we hear they are having issues in the marriage. The wife feels the husband is not compatible because he said he can no longer sponsor the monthly relaxation trip to Zanzibar she normally took as a spinster. The husband suddenly feels threatened because wifey is bringing more money home and it portrays him as a weak man. They can't talk to friends about it because after the pomp and pageantry friends saw during the wedding, husband and wifey must be living in heaven. Ever heard of don't put the cart before the horse? Why spend the money meant for the marriage on the wedding?

Every week, websites, blogs and magazines update their wedding section with pictures from weddings that took place during the weekend. It looks like a competition of some sort because with each week, new ideas (even better ones) are coming out. The reading audience are not absolved because you see comments like "oh, my wedding must beat this" or "lord, you know my heart please send my amour... My wedding must be shown here". You read all these from people that don't even have enough for a court wedding. Ever heard of 'cut your coat according to your size?' Can we blame anybody if at 48 such people are not married because they are waiting for a wedding that will "beat" others?

Yours truly is not a sadist and no, I'm not depressed. I just feel that it can all be done in moderation. If the family wants to make it an elaborate wedding, let it come from their pocket. I've heard of desperate women that use their 9-5 job salary to pay for a wedding dress just to make their friends jealous. You have so much to look forward to in the marriage such as bills and expenses so don't be in a hurry to spend. Enjoy your wedding with the family and friends that care, you don't have to invite Africa to celebrate with you. Some people even go for destination weddings just to cut cost because when mogbomoyas think about the cost of a flight, they'll rather attend the wedding in the next street.

If you have the wherewithal to do an elaborate/ talk of the town wedding that won't put a dent on your pocket, go ahead. If you are still struggling, I suggest you think twice before putting a hole that even tailors can't mend in your pocket. 

If you are trying to beat the wedding I'm about to go for today, it's fine. If you invite me I'll come. Who wants small chops? Holla!

RUNNING FROM THE FAT CITY

Last week, we were asked to fill questionnaires on obesity prevalence among undergraduates. In answering the questionnaires, we were to measure the waist and hip circumference in centimeters, weight in kilograms and height in meters. We had a good laugh because of the surprises that kept springing up. I always knew that boys and girls differed in size (because of "endowments" and the rest...lol)  but the figures I was hearing were shocking. Some boys had hip measurement of 35cm while some ladies were having about 100cm. We also calculated our BMI (Body mass index) and WHR ( waist-hip ratio). At the end of it all, some people found out that they were overweight and on their way to the fat city (obesity) while others discovered that being underweight isn't exactly "cool".

The body mass index (BMI), or Quetelet index, is a measure for human body shape and fat based on an individual's mass (kg) and height (m). It is defined as the individual's body mass divided by the square of their height with the value universally being given in units of kg/m2. When you calculate the BMI (body Maas index) and you are overweight (25.00-29.99) it's a signal to start work outs. The safe range is between 18.5-24.9. By the time you reach a BMI value of 30.00 or more, just know that you have reached the fat city (obesity) and its time to run!!!.

The Waist circumference is also important. To measure your waist, take a tape round your navel (belly button) and note the value. Normal waist circumference should not be greater than 88cm (35 inches) in women and 102cm (40 inches) in men. However, increase in your waist circumference also increases your risk of cardiovascular disease. The neck circumference is about 2 times that of the waist and that's why ladies prefer to test a new cloth around their neck when shopping at the market. Also calculate your waist to hip ratio (WHR). Abdominal obesity is defined as WHR greater than 0.90 in males and 0.85 in females. Are you in that category? Then it's time to run from the fat city. There's no time to feel ashamed or depressed. It's time to work it out.

Inasmuch as being underweight is cool to an extent, you may need some form of weight during pregnancy to avoid complications. Research has also proven that skinny people tend to have more fat in the blood hence the warning " Fat stored internally is worse than fat stored under the skin". In essence eat moderately at least to add a little weight.

Running from the fat city requires consistency, determination and courage (CDC). People advice all sorts from eating more water (i.e water melon, oranges and pineapple) to doing the sit ups but non of these can work without CDC. Do remember that it is all a function of time. Keep records daily of your achievements and you'll see progress.

Don't forget the best form of workout when you want to lose weight is thus: 

Sit upright with your back against the chair. Then turn your head first to the left and then to the right. Do this every time you are offered food that will send you to the fat city... Lol.

Comments!!!!!

Discipline: the tush way or the street way?

Howdy earthlings?

I went to pick up my dress from the tailor during the weekend and it took a while because some adjustments needed to be made. I was buying time by checking up on twitter when her 8 year old son walked in. She started shouting at the boy in her native language and kept twisting the boys ear. What was juniors offense? He didn't perform the Saturday chores with his younger sister. She punished him further by asking him to fetch the water they would use for the night. When he came inside, she asked how many buckets he had fetched and then she patted him on the back on told him he had tried. She told him the importance of doing things the right way and not running away from chores. She emphasized on the need to be honest in life and to avoid cheating. She then told him to go and take his bath.

 10 year old Johnson just returned from school. He had just learnt a new form of painting in school and he decided to try it at home. He spilled white paint on the brown carpet in the parlor and even stained the silver metallic center table. His mother came back and was furious. No, she did not scold him. She simply said "good job Johnson, well done." she turned towards the kitchen to shout at Mary (the nanny) asking her why she allowed Johnson to litter the parlor. She threatened to fire Mary the next time she allowed such to happen.

Growing up in Lagos Nigeria, I have seen different forms of training being meted out to children. From the market women in yaba that flog their naked children clad in only underwear to the banker mom in lekki that dares not scold her child because she fears he'll grow up to hate her. The 2 scenarios painted above are not far from the recent happenings in our environs. 

In the past, a child was not the sole responsibility of his biological parents. Training a child was always a communal effort. As long as that child was known, he would be put in check by any adult present at that point in time whenever he strayed. These days, if you try to correct a child that is not yours, your reward will be a mouthful of insults and curses.

We are trying to emulate the western countries in many aspects but we are not even doing it properly. At least everyone knows there is a difference  in manner of discipline instilled by a black mum (e.g Madea Simmons... Lol) and a white mum in America. Why then are we emulating the wrong things?

The book of wisdom says "spare the rod and spoil the child"...how far do we go with this?. I'm not an advocate of scarring a child for life all in the name of discipline but painting a picture of a perfect life without mistakes for the child doesn't exactly do any good. 

Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well.

Now le roomies and I are arguing about this :). The tush way or the street way?? What's your take??? 

A HOME AWAY FROM HOME

Hello earthlings,

Inspiration for today’s topic came from all my reminiscing earlier in the week. Over the weekend, i had the opportunity to look at my high school and primary school pictures and boy, did i laugh as easy as the hyena does. The pictures brought back a lot of memories, the happy, sad and weird ones. It got me thinking about my days in the boarding school and how i had to learn to live and relate with strangers. Though i may not readily admit it, my boarding school experience has helped me to relate with people in all their forms. The disadvantages of growing up in a boarding house of a unity school cannot be overestimated and that’s why i’ve decided to look at the brighter side of things.

In my first year in secondary school, i wasn’t really keen on living in the boarding house. Along the way, going to school became an unwanted reality because of all the traffic on the way to and fro, leaving me with no option than to sleep once i arrived at home. When my parents raised the issue of boarding house, i saw reason with them and i just accepted my faith. In my second year in school, my parents paid my boarding school fees and that was when i realised that i was actually going to live in the boarding house for real. I decided to play the role of a brave cat and act fearless during the whole process. I didn’t cry and i even looked forward to the day i was going to be dropped off in school. It was on a bright Sunday afternoon that my parents shipped me off to the boarding school. I thought i wouldn’t cry but when they removed my luggage from the car and waved me goodbye, the tears just flowed freely from my eyes. It sounds funny to me right now but believe me, i cried like a baby. I moved my luggage inside and even sobbed gently as i unpacked my bags. And that was it... the beginning of my life in a house (latter a home) away from home.

It was the morning of my first school day in the boarding house. I heard students running to and fro the bathroom. I soon discovered that those that were running towards the bathroom did so because they wanted to get a space in the bathroom while those that were running from the bathroom did so to avoid the splashing of dirty water on their body. Since i was a new entrant, I decided to take my time. Let’s just say i got to class late that day. As the days and weeks rolled by, i learnt to plan my schedule and slowly but steadily I warmed up to the boarding system. I learnt to do things at a particular time. It got so bad (in a positive way) that failing to follow the schedule had grave consequences so i had no choice than to be diligent.

Whenever the dining bell rings, the amount of students that run towards the dining hall is enough to cause a stampede. We would all run to eat a plate of miserly eba and watery egusi soup that looked like a gallon of water was poured into it to provide quantity. I can say all these things about the food now because i have seen better days but trust me, the food was like gold to me at that time. Getting to the dinning hall was not a guarantee that you would get food to eat. You might get there and be told that food had finished. There were times that we wanted to protest but hunger won’t allow us. Then i thought it was normal but now i wonder why i won’t be given food after paying all the necessary fees in school... *sigh*.

Saturday in the hostel was a dreaded day for me. It was environmental day meaning we had to wash the toilets and bathrooms, cut the grass in the hostel, throw the trash away, wash the hostel floors, lay our beds all in view of inspection that would be carried out by the hostel mistress at 10:00 am. We had to wake up as early as 6:00 am to listen to the prefects share the work. Did i mention that many of us in junior school at that time went to bed on Friday night with only one prayer on our lips and it was about not being picked to wash the toilets. The toilet system in school was so bad that i had to eat very little from time to time so that i won’t have to visit the toilet so often. I emaciated so much that people thought i was sick. My mum would bring oranges for me on visiting day and i would beg her to take them back home because i didn’t want to go to the toilet (orange was an effective purgative for me at that time). The prayers worked for some time and i was given grass to cut. Cutting grass was stressful because we were under the bright morning sun (which is naturally supposed to give vitamin D) sweating profusely with our complexion gradually changing to the shade of charcoal. The cutlasses were old and very blunt so that meant double labour. I usually ended up having cuts on my palm but i took solace in the fact that it was the price i had to pay to avoid washing the toilet. My goodluck charm started wearing off and the prefects started recognising me for toilet washing. I washed toilets so much it became a passion for me (laughs). I started looking forward to Saturday so i good make the toilet almost as clean as the one at home. After every inspection, we would all run towards the clean toilets to launch them. Yeah, my toilet regimen became 1/7 (once in a week) except when i had taken the forbidden fruit.

Visiting day in school was like Christmas for us. We always wanted to look good for our parents. There was usually no light in school so we would fold our best housewear in a newspaper a week to the visiting day and put it under our beds hoping they will straighten out before that day. When the parents of a child come to visit, the child’s name would be announced and the child would run happily to meet the family. Parents would bring food, provision et all for their kids. Some would bring food enough to feed a community knowing fully well that it would be shared among their friends. Some students ended up not being happy because their parents didn’t show up. They would cry to sleep and wake up the next day trying really had to forget the events of the past day.

As a junior student in the hostel, having a school mother or father was a priority. A school parent is a student like you but someone in the senior class that could protect you from the claws of other seniors and provide basic necessities like food. I didn’t have a school mother because i was taller than most of the seniors and so anyone that picked me would most likely be ridiculed because i would look like the persons school mother. No one was willing to take that risk with me so i had to make do with having school friends in the senior class. I was a bit quiet and obedient so that was an added advantage for me. The seniors in school could send juniors on errands without conscience. Even simple things they could do on their own, they decided to send the juniors just to prove to their mates that they were not weak. When a junior is disobedient, they would call a conference of their mates over that particular junior and would punish individually or collectively. Most juniors despised the seniors and they did not hide it in anyway. They became rude and disobedient. We always looked forward to their send forth after which we won’t have to contend with their faces. . All i kept wondering was what would happen after school? When we meet outside the four walls of the school, how would we relate? Would i run into your arms or spit on your face because of how we related in school?.

I became a senior student and although it felt good being able to send juniors too, i couldn’t do so knowing i have junior ones at home. Yes i was in SS1 but i was a junior to the SS3 students and was therefore still liable to errands. Although the errands reduced, we (SS1 students) could be picked on at anytime just to show strength to their mates. I kept on piling resentment and hatred towards some of them and i released it all one evening. I was sent to fetch a bucket of water from the tap downstairs and it was not an errand i loved going on. I started having chest pain and i was almost fainting. Thank God for the friends i had who could see i was not being rebellious. They attacked the senior and even though i made enemies that day, i started getting my due respect. I still went on errands but it was better than before. I became the hostel prefect in final year and even though i could send juniors on errands, i didn’t use it to take advantage of them. We were friends and i wasn’t disrespected for one day. A couple of them are in my school today and i am happy i didn’t do the opposite. I have seniors that are still my friends till date and i am happy to have met them.

The boarding school training went with me to the higher institution and i don’t regret getting it. I didn’t have a school mother and i was able to scale through. I suffered as a junior but now i see it all as a price i had to pay. I lived in the boarding school and only went home on mid-term breaks and when school closed for the term/year. I had no choice but to make it my new home. It didn’t have all the luxury things i had at home but i learnt to live within my means. Would i send my kids to boarding school? When we get to that bridge we’ll cross it.

This has been my tiny epistle on life in the boarding house. Do you have any boarding house experience? Please share :).

Gracias.

WHEN THE BETTER HALF GOES

When the better half goes...

(DISCLAIMER: The names in the story below are fictitious and are in no way related to people that bear such names in reality.)

Welcome to the diary of a young black woman. Today it's about Mr and Mrs Clark.

Mr and mrs Clark got married a few years ago and it's been a jolly ride for them. Mr Clark had a good job that was rolling in the money and mrs Clark wasn't doing too bad either. The children came along and the family increased in number. Mr and mrs Clark kept making plans for the future, working hard so that they could rest together in old age. All was going well until mrs Clark was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. Mr Clark went from hospital to hospital looking for help so the mrs could live. They did all sort of tests and therapies all to no avail. Mrs clark had barely completed the first therapy when she died. When the doctor told mr Clark that his wife had passed on, mr Clark fell from his chair and developed a seizure. He was admitted overnight in the hospital. He woke up  at intervals crying himself back to sleep. He woke up the next morning unable to move his right limbs and the doctors suspected that he might have developed a stroke. They asked him to stay a while on the hospital for examination but he insisted on being discharged against the doctors advice. He even stood up with the intravenous fluid that was connected to his hand and walked a little distance just to prove to the doctor that he was fit to go. He kept shouting "if anything happens to me, blame me". Then one of the doctors asked him "who would your children blame? They have just lost their mother and now you want to go that same way?.:.."

When people get married, they hope and pray for long life together. That they would remain together even in their old age carrying their grandchildren but like one of Asa's popular songs "...no one knows tomorrow". Challenges are bound to pop up and most times we don't know how to face them. 

When the better half dies, it takes a while for the surviving half to recover. In some cases, they never recover. You must have heard about people that die one month or one year after they lose their spouse. It becomes painful when you remember all the plans that were made for the future.  Fear sets in and they wonder where to start from. It's more challenging when there are children left behind that have to be catered for but you must take solace in the fact that you still have a part of them living in those kids.

How do you console someone that has lost a spouse? What do you do or say? It is he that wears the shoe that knows where it pinches. Sometimes you have to let them cry out their pain so that they can come back stronger. They feel alone in the world and may tend to hide themselves from the world. Some people resolve to bury their sorrow by focusing on something else e.g work. They may get angry with the children for no reason and even start maltreating them. Others hurry off to marry another person not putting into consideration that the new spouse may not like the children. The children are now at the receiving end. The bereaved spouse sees them as risk factors for the new marriage and decides to do away with them. The poor kids are shipped off to be raised by their grandparents. Fast forward to the future and the kids are now rebellious, hating the surviving parent for something that could have been avoided.

Yes, you are hurting and you want to heal but the children should not be neglected. The children should be a priority to you. Anybody that wants you in their life should want them too. They are part and parcel of you and should not be removed. People heal better when the kids are happy because it's like a sign that the deceased spouse is proud of your efforts. The work is double now but you'll be happy at the end. It is only a function of time.

R.I.P Mrs Clark.

LESSONS FROM THE FIRST HALF

Dear diary,


Its the last day of the first half of the year. Hmmm… how time flies. 2013 started with mixed feelings for me because I didn’t know how I would face the year. At the beginning of the year, I had a lot of things on my plate to achieve. Some were carried over from last year but I was determined to move forward. Being an undergraduate, academics was and is still a priority. Combining school with other extracurricular activities can be really stressful especially when you are not a guru at multi-tasking because at a point, failure in one aspect looks like failure in all aspects even when you are not doing so badly.

Six months may seem like a really short time to learn things that will be useful throughout your life time but trust me it seemed like forever. However I have learnt some valuable stuff that I would like to share. Here are a few:

A book and its cover:
 A human being is like a book. The physical attributes and character that we see can be likened to the cover of a book, while the inner mind of a human is the replica of the content and pages of that book. The people who look innocent most times are the guilty ones while the ones that look guilty are actually sheeps in wolf clothing. Moral of the story is: don’t judge a book by its cover.

Beneath that smile:
Always happy, not saying much. Smiles at every greeting. People have a lot of issues within and around them but because of how desperately wicked the heart of man is, they cannot share their problems. They bottle it up inside them and even though they cry in their private time, they still manage to smile back when you greet. To me these are the strongest set of beings to walk this earth. Can you see beneath that smile?

 I.O.U’s:
 It means exactly that.. I Owe You. You must have at least one of them in your life. Always asking about your wellbeing and granting you unmerited favours and support. Well in the end they usually want something in return, something you can’t part with. Other than our father in heaven, I am yet to come across one that would have a persons interest at heart in all aspects without wanting something in return. The stories are all the same. They may not collect it immediately and years may roll by but surely they’ll be back.

Doing it well:
“Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well, make hay while the sun shines, a stitch in time save nine… e.t.c.” Very popular proverbs that still apply to this day and time. If you are going to do something, you might as well do it well. If you have set your mind on a task, do not be lazy about it. Put in all your efforts to produce a fantastic result that you can be proud of. Only then can you sit back in your rocking chair and say to yourself “not bad, not bad at all”

Setting priorities:
Don’t jumble things together hoping they would sort themselves out. Set your priorities. Know what you want and do not want. Life is easier to live when you take one step at a time. Identify your priorities so you won’t be likened to the man that knows he is sick with leprosy, but he abandons it to look for a cure for that tiny patch of eczema on his skin… Seriously?!

I learnt quite a lot but that’s the little I can share. I am walking into the second half with my eyes wide open, expecting anything. I’m taking my lessons with me ready to battle it out this time. Remember the routine of a football match. The players play the first half and go in during half-time to re-strategise. They come back in the second half more aggresive, ready to win at all costs not minding what the opposing teams throws at them. (Just like Italy and Uruguay are struggling for third place at the confederations cup at the moment….goodluck guys )

It dosent really matter what you set as your new years resolution at the beginning of the year, half time is almost up. Re-strategise and enter the second half of the year battle ready. Above all things, be wise.

Impossibility is nothing!

Gracias