151216

 

365 days of disclosure

Many of which were a blur

Unclear paintings of me

Trying to build a new life – a new me

Struggling between holding the reins

And letting go for Omega who reigns

Forgetting that Alpha started it

And stands at the end to complete it

Prayers in May that birthed a vision

Supplication became a mission

Of equations that end in same numbers

Of serene sleep and slumbers

Again I stand at the door

Looking back at my store

But gripping unto futures hope

A new age of beauty's scope

I flourish

I flourish

I flourish

Opening this door of light

I am ready to continue the fight

Baring my scars as conqueror

Offspring of the divine Emperor

I win

I win

I win

 

What If Jesus

What if Jesus had spent his adult years sulking about the circumstances of His birth, growing up as a carpenters son and trekking the length and breath of Isreal?

What if Jesus had spent his days questioning His destiny because his past was in a manger? What if He began to doubt His divinity because of His birth place?

Oh and Egypt, what if it wasn’t cool to be from Africa? How about his hands, He must have ruined His fingers being a carpenter’s apprentice

So established, Jesus’ background sucks!

But we never hear Him wallow in self pity or doubt His glorious future because of His ugly past.

He didn’t contemplate suicide because the thought of the cross was too dark

Jesus stayed in the future. He kept His focus on what was to come, the glorious days that the growing pains will reveal. He lived the past and present based on the word, the prophecies not questioning the process but loving the product – YOU, ME . . . US

He bore His past like a general with battle scars

He lived His present like a man on a mission

He certified a future by love’s call setting an example for us to follow

Listen;

There will be pain and scars, battles to fight, mind strongholds to pull down, all as a result of our journey to greatness.

But like Jesus, we look to the life after the cross, the glorious existence with Abba Father and we forget the past and set our minds on Him

Jesus, His life, His death, His burial, His ressurection

And because He now lives like the king He is we’ve got no choice but to do same

He is risen.

Jesus Our Christ is risen!

151215

As the clock reads 12.03am my heart skips a bit

It’s yet another year, another journey, another experience

For the first time in years I feel a little different

Maybe it’s the geles I’ve been tying in the previous year

Or the business I started that has gained such traction

Or the relationships I lost or gained

I feel more aware of time’s passing

My heart feels fuller and emptier at the same time

My mind racing unsuccessfully to meet times expectations

All I can see is what I hadn’t gotten from my ’15 bucket list

My lips form prayers of gratitude my heart can’t disguise

Then Kari Jobe’s “Forever” floats to me from my phone

And instantly I realize what I have always known

He is alive and so I am!

I have overcome the grave and live free ‘cos He did

I’m more complete and secure today than yesterday because of Hallelujah

As the tear slips out so does the smile of gratitude

Then the overwhelming assurance of love and hope despite my list

Its time again to sing “Good Good Father” by Kally Heiligenthal

And go crazy in celebration to “Joy” by Planetshakers

And get on my stilettos to dance ’16 to an awesome finish

***12 faces of 2015

ON MY TERMS

I waited.

Fell asleep while waiting, woke up intermittently and checked my phone. All I wanted was a reply. It took me a long time to realise that he doesn’t reply messages within the first 4 hours of reading them in fact it may be 24hours before a response comes in and it just made my eye twitch.

I am sure some of you will say “it’s not such a big deal” but I have come to realise that I may have a mild case of OCD and therefore things have to be done a certain way. I arrange cups according to types and sizes (and the colour may influence it too) in my cupboard. I shut my wardrobe every night before I sleep because the tiny creaking noise irritates me and keeps me awake. It costs me a lot to walk away from my car if the tires are not straight. So I love some order like getting a reply to a text especially if “you” started the conversation.

Life is on your terms!

I said that to the audience at a seminar and they looked a little unconvinced and I explained about my OCD(ness) and told them that they make choices every day to be who they are even if influenced by someone else ultimately the choice is theirs.

This is seen clearly in the kind of friends we keep. Most of the friends we have allow us be ourselves even when they don’t like it. But that is the prerequisite for good friendships. If I know I can be myself with you then it will be easy for me to be around you and to want to spend time with you. So when I walk into a room I unconsciously study facial expressions and body language to pick a seat because I don’t want to sit beside someone who makes me uncomfortable. And if they smell, I change seat. I don’t say “oh maybe they are broke and can’t afford cologne or a bath” I just take off because there are other seats in the room.

Above all else be accommodating but do not change who you are for someone else because you will become a fraud and loose sense of what’s important to you. When your personality is not clear to people it confuses them and they stay away from you.

Be yourself.


While you’re at it BECOME A BETTER YOU.



photo credit: simple pleasures gallery 

My Many Faces

                        

A few days ago my sister asked how many faces they were in this picture and we all got it right and it got me thinking about how many "talents" I had that would be called my many faces.

To some I'm daughter, sister others friend, buddy, colleague, consultant, teacher and still others see me as writer, speaker, strategist and trainer. 

Someone asked me once if I would compromise on any one of my faces at anytime maybe for a guy, someone else said maybe I should slow down not to frighten them away. 

I say, what would I say to my Abba Father if I bury my talents in the ground and do not get 10 more? What would happen to those who need me to be the face they can relate with to live life a little better? Shouldn't the people in your life enhance you rather than make you hide?


I choose my 10 talents and I wear my many faces with pride.
To all the multi talented people, we make the world the eclectic place of colour it should be. #Talented #Faces #Life #Love #Give #Purpose #JustBe #StrongWoman #Passion

Photo credit: anonymous

Leadership By Bullets

On my way to church I noticed that the street to church was blocked off by the police and all the streets down the road as well and I had to turn back and park by the road side to get to church on foot. I asked why there were so many angry-trigger-happy-men-in-black blocking of 4 major streets in Lekki1 and I was told someone with a political office was in one of the houses. My informant noticed my perplexed expression and added that the politician was of the wrong party and on the wrong side of the opposition’s godfather. I laughed out loud before I could control myself and walked off smiling.

How is it possible that a politician who is not the president can block off 4 major streets in a famous neighbourhood and all we can do it stand around and watch to see if other “goons” were coming for a fight. I could see the expectation in the eyes of those standing around and it made me sad.

True leadership is service to the people anything else is terrorism.

You don’t need to bear a certain crest and blow people up to be a terrorist. The fact that those who put you in office now have to cower at your presence and suffer because you came into town is cruel and makes you undeserving of that position.

I was smiling because he was more afraid of his opponents than the man of the street. But the man on the street was his worst enemy. As someone has said, "when the poor have nothing left to eat they will eat the rich".

Leadership entails direction. If you are pointing us to decadence and disruptive behaviour you are an anarchist not a leader

I am one of the millions of Nigerians waiting for the new administration to work a miracle and praying for divine help for right decisions and protection. I didn't write about missing money, election drama, peoples opinion or fuel scarcity because I am holding out for “change” and it has to be a complete “transformation” if not we are only ‘mice on a wheel’.

God help us.



image curtsey nairaland.com

Who put the sour in sweet November???!

Who put the sour in sweet November???!

I watched my friend writhe in pain cause by the happenings of this month. He had lost his dad earlier this month just around the time someone he respected greatly passed on in a plane crash as well.

So we thought after the death of Myles Monroe we would get a breather. Of course, we can’t have anyone else die after such a great man? He was like hundred men in one. He lived such a purposeful life and touched so many people, institutions and nations. A friend pinged me a day after Myles Monroe’s passing and ask who he was, I was shocked and slightly offended that he didn't know who he was that the only answer I could come up with was “Ask Google”. Maybe I was over reacting but I believe just like Steve Job’s passing and Madiba’s passing would leave a dent in this world so would Myle Monroe’s.

And then I wake up to a message from a dear friend saying ChazB a fantastic On Air Personality and child of God had passed on too. I went numb for a moment and then I mumbled in the comfort of my room “nooooo, not you too”. Why couldn't some of these wicked and malicious politicians and religious bigots die instead I asked no one in particular.

What on earth was happening to sweet November?

I looked at the beeping red light from my phone and knew the news had gone viral. I wasn't ready to face my grief so I ignored them and curled back to sleep. But just like these precious lives, the sour that had been poured into my November had rid me of sleep too.

I didn't cry. I didn't laugh. I just went on with my life until when I chatted with my friend again and I realised three important people had been taken from him in such a short time and my heart broke finally. I felt sad and happy at the same time. Myles Monroe and ChazB had lived full lives even though to us it was short. They had such influence on people, we mourn them like we were kit and kin.

Life goes on right? And once again we have to pick up the pieces and move on. But this time, we MUST “find our place and fill our space” like Fela Durotoye would say. 

We do not plan to die but we must plan to leave behind a living legacy.

So it’s a sweet and sour November but we would hold on to the sweet and let the sour slowly slip away.

20 Minutes

I stood by my car waiting for a friend who was finishing up at a saloon and watched 4 little boys play with a ball they had made by stuffing pieces of cloth wrapped around little stones into an old deflated football.

I was intrigued by the raw intelligence the refurbished ball presented but wondered about how easy it was to kick against a ball that probably weighed almost half as much as the smallest of the boys.

They seemed happy and content in their little game and my friend was taking her precious time so I watched. I could have gone into the saloon but the last time I was there I had a little falling out with the hair dresser who made me look more like I was going for a ritual ceremony and not the wedding I had planned. So I swore never to set foot in that saloon again and waiting under the blistering sun was me proving my point.

The boys had stopped playing and were looking intently in anticipation as one of them ran towards a lady who had just alighted from a motorbike. He bent towards her bag of groceries and she snapped at him. I couldn’t hear what she said but I could feel her anxiety at having a 10 year old tattered looking boy touch her bag. I strained to hear their conversation but I was too far away so I tried to read their lips but all I see from the boy was “please. . . .” and after a pause the lady nodded and he carried the grocery bag and followed behind her into the gate of an estate right behind them.

A few minutes later, my “boys” and I were still craning our necks in anticipation for the boys’ return when he ran out of the estates gate in full speed waving a 50naira note. They all jumped around in circles and chatted excitedly, pointing in the direction of “Mallam Biscuits” stand.

I smiled as I remembered myself so many years ago excited at any currency given to me by uncles and aunties who came to visit.

I had entered my car and turned on the AC, the heat outside had become unbearable and I had decided to leave my friend behind, after all she was an adult and could find her way home easily. And well, I wasn’t paid to turn 2 shades darker for being her chauffer.

As I simmered, a lady walked by my car and caught my attention because she was wearing exactly the same top I had bought a few days ago and I smiled to myself and shrugged, “London shoppers in Lagos malls”. She was rummaging furiously through her bag like I did when I couldn’t find my keys and a 200naira note fell out right in front of my boy who carried the grocery bag.

He immediately picked it up and ran after her calling out and handed it to her as she turned around. She stared at his hand, then his face and smiled then she bent slightly, said something to him just as his friends got to where they were standing and turned away waving.

What?! Had she just given a 200naira note to my boy? Oh my! What a day this boy had had.

As if on cue, all 4 boys jumped and screamed and this time I could hear them distinctly as they ran towards “Mallam Biscuit”. I laughed despite myself and wished someone else would come and maybe throw a good life at them, changing their clothes, giving them a home and a possible future.

My heart felt heavy and my eyes teared up as I wondered if spending 5 more minutes playing a rugged football will bring more goodness to the already happy boys.

As they half-ran, half-walked chatting excitedly and eating the combos or biscuits, wafers, sweets and sharing a bottle of a drink that looked like Viju milk, I decided my waiting time was up and started my car.

As I pushed the gear into drive, from the corner of my eye I saw my friend running hysterically towards my car, waving both hands and bags. She looked angry and I could see why, the hairdresser had transformed her into a lion with locks. I smiled and she said, “I don’t want to hear it”

It had been an eventful 20minutes with a grand finish!

I drove away with a sense of fulfilment.

151213

And so the New Year begins

Every year I wait to feel differently on my birthday and I don’t

I stay up till the clock says 12:30am just to sense something new and I don’t

Am I meant to feel older, happier, sober…I don’t know

Am I meant to cry, laugh…I don’t know

One thing I never fail to do is pray and pray some more

I’m grateful for a good life, wait a minute it is more

I have had a great life and some more

And so I give thanks and pledge to live my life for Him and man

It’s not as smooth as it sounds but this is how grace is made

I wait and see and the Lord is good one more year and always

I may feel nothing, but I know one thing as always

Goodness and mercy are my peeps all the days of my life

Because He says so and holds my life

So I am ecstatic at the prospects of the New Year

And now I am expectant

Because it holds more beauties than the last year.

It is 151214!

#Choices

I am facing one of those decisions that are life defining and would definitely have a resonating effect on everything and everyone around me. It’s one of the "do or die" times I must encounter in my life time. And in making a choice I realized my musings were, emotional, rational and factual, basically. It was about what I could feel, reason out and see...my senses were (are still since I'm still in a limbo) on full alert.

She-the-stranger

I watched her hum her way in and out of the room slamming the door so hard it bounced back on its hinges falling wide open again. Its been 6 days since she came to stay with me and its been 5 days since my irritation began its gradual rise. I have never had to share my space with a stranger before and that is what she still is after 6 days, a stranger! I am usually more friendly than I have been to her but because I have felt more frustration at her presence than companionship, I have kept my distance in case I snap and give her a little more than a piece of my feelings.

Dirty clothes have sat still in a bag by my couch, a damp towel has found its spot on my wardrobe door, strands of hair turn up everywhere and my boots and jackets have found a new owner. I'm more sad at my decision to help this stranger than happy at doing my friend a favour. My friend who I haven't seen in almost 9 years asked me to play host until she-the-stranger finds suitable accomodations. I was quick to accept as I was once a squatter with a friend before I found my place but my host was my friend so I could lounge. Now, I'm stuck with she-the-stranger who wont pick after herself and seems too comfortable in my space; my space which is my solace and now a damp smelly room that reminds me of my undergraduate days.

That humming which would not have mattered on another occassion grated on my nerves as I pulled the duvet over my head. "Please go to school", I prayed silently from under my hiding place. I desperately needed to clean and air my space. 4 hours later, I'm alone "ahhhhh" I sighed in relief, I have at most 7 hours before she-the-stranger returns with her endless questions and over familiarity. I have a few hours to own my space, my solace.

I keep saying to myself, "it could be worse, Ihotu stay calm all izz well"

Way To Go

The most recent irritation to road users is the number of tariffs they have to pay just to use the roads. It’s amazing how different groups waylay drivers and collect all kinds of amounts of money from them as payment for one thing or the other. The worst part is the mode of payment. We all know tax laws are slack in this country but that doesn’t give every union and corporative the excuse to become hoodlums and terrorists.

Take Abuja for example (I live here so I should know), road workers are made to pay for tickets everyday or they will be penalized with a higher sum than they owed. A few months ago, a taxi driver I know went to Mararaba, the first town in Nasarawa State coming from Abuja and was fined for not having a receipt that carries the Nasarawa State emblem even though he had one with the FCTs’. You have to note that the only demarcation between Mararaba and Abuja is a pillar and the same buses run through the two towns.

WALKING PHONES

GSM Mobile phone use came into Nigeria in 2001 with Econet. As usual, they started in Lagos as the commercial center of the country and those of us in other areas just heard about experiences of its users. We only saw it on television and heard about it on the radio. It had become one of the fantastic things that were to remain a fantasy to those of us without a lot of thousands to spend on its acquisition. Then in came MTN, then known as “your best connection”. Apart from the competition and its wider coverage, it was a little lower than Econet in cost. By 2003, a large number of Nigerians could afford mobile phones because of the flood of options from Nokia and Samsung especially. I could afford a phone too. My father bought my very first mobile phone, a Samsung R220 popularly called “blue face” and I joined the league of GSM users. However, I had to squeeze out N12,000 to get an MTN sim card.

My Condolences to Us All

A friend of mine asked me a few days ago what my take on the Dana plane crash and its resultant reactions from people was and I answered that I didn't have one. He was shocked because I'm opinionated and I often have something to say. At his expression, I said, "its a sad situation" and gingerly left the conversation. I have read posts and comments from blogs and twitter and Facebook and listened in on conversations and its sad that we don't seem to be improving in our appreciation of the situation of our country, Nigeria.
What we face from corruption, to irresponsibility and arrogance is BAD (read my post "My Nigeria"). And even though we are all educated to an extent about how our leaders decisions and inaction is depreciating to us all by ripple effect, we still blame it on others. Most of what I read was that the fault of the crash was from Indians, Indians??? How dumb are we? Can't we see that because we can not service our own industries we have to bring in expatriates and then turn around and blame them for their failures? which really is ours because we manage to go to their schools, learn to be 'world best' and then remain in their countries to work for them as we can't cope the 'backwardness' of our own. Yes we pay them the big bucks, but if we are patriotic in any sense we will double check on what they are doing and not leave our lives in their hands.

Ultimate Ramblings 1: In Relative Terms

It is said that good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people. The law of karma says what comes around goes around or the bad you do will come back to haunt you (thoroughly paraphrased). Medically, they say an unripe fruit may contain the necessary acids for digestion. So, an unripe orange may be a better laxative than a ripe one and an unripe mango stands a lesser chance of increasing the frequency of toilet visits while a ripe one might induce such. Also, you cannot know how much strength you have until tested, neither can you know your capacity for pain unless your endure some. Can we say there is an antonym without a word? Therefore, there is no wealth without poverty and no love without hate. Only the state of a “status” describes the alternative.

Phlegm

I hate phlegm!

It’s not only disgusting in itself but the sound it makes trying to find its way up the walls of the throat is completely nauseating. Firstly, I can’t seem to be able to get it out of my throat whenever it manages to get all wobbly in there. I’ve heard people clear their throats or cough in order to free themselves from the clingy-ness of it but all I can do is watch. I’ve tried to copy the actions or sounds made by people around me just to get it out of its lodgings but it just wouldn’t budge from my own throat. I’ve seen people throw their heads backwards and make the weirdest sounds ever and spit it out or just grunt and there it goes. I can practically hear it grudging dislodging itself part by part from the throat walls and roll into a ball that finally comes out through the mouth with the force created by the sound made by the individual (exasperating I know). I have tried it all; coughing, clearing my throat, bending over, leaning backwards, jumping, drinking water in large gulps, swallowing food to push it down, sticking my hand in my throat, wishing it away, and trying to forget its presence… all to no effect. Phlegm just won’t come out of my throat. Fortunately, I hardly have it stuck in there but when it does I’m restless and distracted. It’s like watching a dog try to remove a tick from the base of its back. You’ll hear whimpering and sheer agony.

A DAY AT THE HOSPITAL

I've always admired doctors but hated hospitals because it remains me of helplessness and pain. I know on the other hand it’s a place of hope and the ideal place to get treated for diseases as opposed to the other options (you know what I mean).

I've had to spend time at a hospital in the last few months and it has intensified my distaste for the place, and I must repeat not the health workers! Fortunately it is a really good hospital I was visiting this time around. The floors are really clean and the restrooms surprisingly fresh smelling, you can imagine that my olfactometer was at full blast. The doctors are cordial and most of the nurses are bordering on sweet but a few have obviously missed their callings. For the first time in my experience (which is really nothing to be reckoned with) the AC’s are

Dancing My Legit Edge

A good friend of mine celebrated his birthday yesterday. (of course, “yesterday in this article only means the day before I wrote it and not the day before you read it) it was really cool for a come-chop-and-dance-if-you-know-how-to-or-not event. My friends and I got there on time and realised a number of people had been there a while longer. We got right down to the food because when it comes to birthdays people think of 2 things; food and hangout! As expected, there were many, “long time no see”, “where have you been?”, “na wa for you oh” and “guess we’ll see at the next party”.

I Love Sleep

I love to sleep and “dozing” is a hobby and a healthy one too. I can’t put in more than 6 hours sleep at night no matter how much I try, the best that can happen is that I sleep for 5 hours, stay awake for 30minutes and then 2 hours which will be punctuated by my awareness of every thing happening around me because I’m really more conscious than asleep after the first 6 hours.

Two different medical theories have come out to say that (1) an adult needs 8hours sleep at night and (2) an adult needs 6hours sleep. Considering the fact that we have only 24 hours in a day; we would be willing to let sleep have 1/3 of that time by giving it 8hours. Using 6 hours for the same purpose means giving up ¼ of your day as well. The question is; what is healthy and what is not? I believe being refreshed in the morning after a good nights rest is healthy.

Blood is Thicker Than Water

I became an independent citizen about 5 years ago and it’s been both fun and the opposite. But it’s been an eye opener. Yes, the world is mean and cruel and you have make a way for yourself while using what you’ve got to get what you want. But I learnt another lesson too; “blood is thicker than water” is relative.

I have been living in Abuja for the last 4 years and in that time I’ve experienced a paradigm shift. So much so that I see appreciate the phrase, “a friend sticks closer than a brother” more than “blood is thicker than water”. I now know that family knows the right thing to say to put a smile on your face temporarily while friends know what to do to put a smile there permanently. Some of the friends I’ve made have become my greatest friends ever and have defied the “childhood” friend rule