Posts Tagged ‘Nigerian Blogger’

How’s everyone doing?

Good weekend? Ready for the week? This is going to be one of my busiest but I thought I’d take a few minutes and say a big hello to everyone, play catch up a bit.

So my niece and nephew were ill, one had malaria and a tummy bug, and the other one had a cold that stretched at least two weeks, and she still had it after she gave it to me. We spent small time in the hospital, and that’s where the story about blood donation came from (I published that recently).

I’ve also done a bit of local travel, looking forward to when I can take a proper holiday… I owe myself two – one for my birthday and the other because life is short and we should take time off to rest and be quiet when we can. Amen?

God dey.

Work is alright… Moved into a new office in June and we’re getting settled in really nicely. Really thankful to God for that, and the immediate possibilities I see for expansion.

Still on work, got two interesting referrals recently, a stark reminder that clients, no matter how little, matter and an excited client post your custom might make a difference as much as 24 months after. I’m really thankful for the referrals, and now just need God’s help to ensure that we beat the standards we’re being held to. Amen?

On Saturday I was privileged to speak at my church’s business/entrepreneur summit, and I drew my topic/talk from some work I’d done for a client recently. I spoke on minding the gaps and facing the direction of travel. Corny I know but it was a good opportunity to fuse my love for trains with my experiences as a student, an employee, and now an employer. It was interesting for me to talk about some of the lessons I’ve learned, and how each step leads to the next, and the next, and the next. It was also very instructive to talk about the place of God in business, and the mistakes I’ve made simply because I ignored the still small voice telling me no. I had a good time, and I’m grateful for the opportunity.

What else? I’m happy. Sweet baby Jesus this daughter of God is happy. I am joy-like-a-river, peace-like-a-fountain, love-like-an-ocean brand of happy. Such a beautiful feeling. Everything in my life; experiences, joy, sadness, mistakes, successes; everything that I have seen has prepared me for where I am now, and I am thankful to God for His many blessings and precious gifts. There’s a new mercy every single day! And I’m loving it!

Finally, I need to get back in the gym. Don’t know why I’m typing this instead of renewing my membership but yeah, this child needs to be back in that place where more calories are burnt than piled on. Yep. This week is out of the question sha, and I’m not bothered in the least what you think! *sticks tongue out*

Finally finally, lol. My nephew moves to reception next school session! Whoop! He’s officially a big boy now! Interestingly, he’s slowly outgrowing the millions of hugs and kisses I drown him in, and he’s only four! I thought they didn’t start all of that till much later? Arrrrrghhhh! Bring back my baby! *sad face*

Finally finally finally, I got a birthday gift yesterday… I know o, this is still for the birthday that passed in May. Is the Lord laying it on your heart to send me a pressie? Harden not your heart biko!

How have you been? Are you keeping okay? Are you doing well? Want to share? Please do!

Mwah!

PS: A song in the back of my mind for a few days now has been “we are h-a-p-p-y, we are h-a-p-p-y, we know we are we are sure we are, we are h-a-p-p-y!” (If you went to primary school in Nigeria this should ring a bell… or two… or three… or four… I’ll stop here)!

In 2007, I went to hang out with my sister in Ibadan for a bit; she was a house officer at the glorious University College Hospital, and it was one of those periods my dad and I couldn’t really agree on anything. So, off to spend some time with my sister.

Ibadan is an amazing place. Like, if I could choose, I would raise my children there. First they would learn Yoruba (yes I love the language), but they would also be exposed to the culture, the music (and the world knows Yoruba’s are the kings and queens of ‘turn up’); all of this in a cheap, ancient, picturesque-type (depends on where you are to be honest) city. I have very fond memories of/in Ibadan, memories that won’t leave me in a hurry!

Anyway, so at UCH they had this blood drive week, and everyday people were given gifts for donating to the hospital’s blood bank. I wasn’t really moved by it till my sister came home one day with her own gifts: a pretty jotter and pen, a mug I think, a can of malt, and one of those pin-up stickers that said she was a life save because she was a blood donor. Whaaaat! I made up my mind to go the next day.

And I did, got there early, and presented my arm for a sample to be taken. A few minutes later, the matronly, much older woman came out and asked

Nurse: Who is ‘Sheomah’?

Me: It’s me (excited)

Nurse: Follow me

(Inside her office)

Nurse (loud enough for the folks in the waiting room to hear): Are you on ‘ya menses’ (on your period)?

Me: (cringing) No

Nurse: Did you just give birth?

Me: (wondering why she has to be that loud): No

Nurse: Did you do ‘aboshan’ (abortion)?

Me: No. Why are you asking me these questions?

Nurse: Ah. Your blood is not enough for you se! How do you want to give someone else?

Brethren, I don’t know if it was the embarrassment, or the way my excitement was punctured, but I left the clinic feeling very inadequate. Why didn’t I have enough?

Suffice to say, I never tried to donate blood again.

Till Sunday the 4th of July 2016. My niece and nephew had been really ill for a few days, and we had to take them into hospital when it didn’t look like they were getting better. We saw the doctor, I endured watching my nephew scream and wail while the IV line was set in his wrist, and then we went up to our ward.

Can I stop for a minute and wholeheartedly recommend Angelic Care Hospital in Area 3, Garki to every parent in Abuja who reads my blog? The nurses are truly angelic, and the hospital is truly intended for little ones. The stairs are a bit steep, but that was the only complain I had. Happy, friendly nurses, very clean environment, and their food is not bad at all!

Away from gushing about the hospital, there was a woman with a severely jaundiced baby in the same ward with us, and apparently the baby needed an exchange blood transfusion which simply involves exchanging (in very little bits) the baby’s ‘unhealthy blood’ with healthy blood to stop the excess bilirubin from wrecking havoc. Yeah?

So the baby’s daddy got screened, but he apparently had hepatitis B and so couldn’t donate; the mom obviously couldn’t donate too. They were going to reach out to a relative to help when I offered. The parents were desperate so it was a really emotional moment, and then I headed to the lab with the nurse. On the way I prayed, asking God to please let my blood be enough, to let it be just right for the baby, literally every prayer I could think of.

We got there, she took a bit, and I waited. Then she said I was good to go! I settled in on a bed, and she brought the bag, needle, tourniquet, etc. Then I remembered my fear for needles so I looked away. I had said I would film but the prick of the really big needle stunned me for a moment; my sister explained the size of the needles ensures the cells are not crushed.

I still made the video, a bit shaky but a goody!

Donation over, I had to lie down for a few minutes, and then I went back to the ward.

The transfusion was done that night, and I’m happy and really excited to say the baby is doing better today. And we’ve made new friends. And I’m thankful I could be useful on such a personal level. It is such an amazing feeling, and I enjoin everyone to contribute to a blood bank close to them.

Even better, we’ve been discharged, and my babies are doing a lot better! God is great!

 

 

 

So, this is the year of doing things I haven’t done before. A number of them I won’t talk about till I’ve done them, but some others I can share, including my plans to run a half-marathon. 21.0975 kilometres. Yep.

Stop. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. I know it sounds like a lot (and it is, who am I kidding?) but yeah, I want to do it. According to experts, the best way to get that done, is to run 5km first, and then build up from there.

Brethren, up till Sunday, the 26th day of June 2016, I’d never done that before. I remember trying to run with Tokes one morning in London; I ended up blogging about the scenery and how I threw up, hurt my knee, developed a headache, let’s just say I wasn’t very successful!

To be fair, I love to walk. I’ve walked 19 kilometres before (Look at my Instagram if you’re a doubting doubter) but running is a problem. Not only because I’ve got a bum right knee (no I’m not making excuses) but also because it’s not something I really took to. And I want to change that. Plus I hear the cardio from running is super, and I need to drop a few more kilos, raise my stamina/endurance levels, all the good things.

So this time, I was pumped! Whaaaaat!! Get it girl! I had tweeted about wanting to run the half-marathon and gotten a few people who had offered to train me, including Bosun Tijani of CCHub and Truppr. If you’re in Abuja, Lagos (I think pretty much everywhere in Nigeria to be honest) and thinking of a FitFam family that allows you to pick and choose events (and even create some) that you’d truly be interested in, I suggest you download the app. Yeah?

Anyway, so Bosun had created a 5km event on the app, and the date was Sunday, time 5pm. Boom! I went to church that morning, clocked a meeting afterwards, went to the car wash (my darling nephew had created a biscuit and ribena explosion in the back of the car), and then ran home, ate lunch, sent a couple emails, and headed to Sheraton, where we were to meet.

Some other Truppr folk showed up, and interestingly, I saw an old friend I hadn’t seen in like 6 or 7 years. She was checking into the hotel and apparently had seen me outside so came over to say hello. She ended up going up to her room to change, and then coming back to join us!

This is where it becomes fun. I was so pumped. Like I had tweeted, some people had tweeted support, I was dressed warm cos it was a bit nippy out to be honest, playlist was ready, calorie and heart rate monitor checked, I was ready! I even downloaded another app, Runkeeper which should ‘train’ me to run by keeping track of the runs and times etc.

Then we started. First kilometre was alright, I was playing YCee’s ‘Jagaban’, Phyno’s ‘Fada Fada’ and a few other songs that are boosters so I was alright.

1.5km? My heart nearly stopped. Dang! I didn’t believe there wasn’t something wrong with me. Of course I stopped running, started walking. Of the six of us who ended up running, I think it was only Bosun and Shola who didn’t take walk breaks. Of course I took the longest walk break.

At some points (while I took the walk breaks) I was tweeting… Maybe I should share.

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Lol… I remember the panic I felt. Thinking of it now makes me chuckle, but I actually panicked!

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Please, don’t even judge. Look at this photo and move on, God bless you.

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What!!! Cue Kanye West’s ‘Touch the sky’, R.Kelly’s ‘World’s greatest’ and other songs in that category!

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Yeah….

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Anyway, we got the 5k in, and I’m really excited about that. Plus, I made a few cool friends, and I’m looking forward to my next run. It might be this Wednesday if I can make out time, or I’ll create an event and see who else wants to get this in.

A few more photos…
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So, that’s it! I can’t wait to get to the point where I’m running the entire stretch non-stop! Whoop!

First off, it was my birthday at least two weeks ago (say hello to thirty, whoop) but that’s not what this post is about.

It’s about another birthday. This blog is six years old! Screenshot 2016-06-02 09.52.06I remember the first time I ever blogged about anything. It was on Facebook, in the ‘notes’ section sometime in 2008. I called it Chronicles of the Fairy GodSister and I remember that post was about a Chinese affinity for warm water during and after meals someone had forwarded to me. I didn’t want to forward it on (I’ve never been a fan of mass-forwarded messages), so I decided to flip it a bit.

Interestingly, and I’ve said it before, by the time I registered my first blog on blogspot later that year, I chose ‘Fairy GodSister’ because I wanted to be able to deny it if people didn’t like the things I wrote. Lol. And then when I got tired of the chains that blogspot comes with, it was time to move here. And I did. Six years ago.

Whoop! A lot of things have happened in six years, in my career, school/education, family (my niece and nephew were born, for one), relationships, life and death have happened. And I’m thankful for all the experiences and lessons I’ve learned along the way.

I’m also thankful for people who have read this blog, who have come to know me because of this blog. I remember one time someone took a few weeks and read EVERY single thing I ever published here. How did I know she read? She commented on all of them. Yep. At the time I had over 280 pieces. And she read them all. Gotta be thankful for people like that, and everyone else who either joined along the way, or has been a fan from jump.

I’m also thankful for the folks who have lent their voices and stories to my #31Days31Writers series, the ones who have opened up themselves and their businesses/enterprises to be interviewed, the ones who have trusted me to tell their stories. Thank you.

To the ones who would message me when for one reason or the other I didn’t write as often as they expected, thank you for checking on me, and ensuring in your own way that dust didn’t gather (too much) on the url. Lol.

Happy birthday to The Fairy GodSister. Here’s to many more years of writing, of sharing, of chronicling.

Hope is a currency more valuable than the dollar, more desirable than the pound, and yet the most easily dispersed, if you’re in prison.

I visited Kuje Medium Security Prison on Friday the 22nd of April 2016, my first time ever in a prison, home and/or abroad. I had heard of prison visits by charities and fellows given to philanthropy in the past, but a chance meeting with Big Mo of Wazobia FM and I was off to ‘The Committee’ to tell them we needed to contribute towards the visit.

The trip to the prison was moved a few times due to high security alerts issued by the authorities, and the calibre of people housed in the prison and at some point I lost hope that the visit would happen. But, on Wednesday I was informed that we had received the all-clear and Friday was the day.

Thanks to monies graciously approved by The Committee, I drove to the assembly point, back seat full of toiletries – toothpaste, petroleum jelly, bathing soap, washing soap, dettol, sanitary towels, and bleach – and I had to change into something totally hiding my figure. Yep, I had been warned that the less *insert a word of your choosing* females look when they visit prisons, the less excitable the men will get.

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Me, in my sister’s maternity kaftan!

And then we set off to Kuje, which is a right turn off the stretch from the city to the airport, and transforms from urban to underdeveloped with each kilometre. Unfortunately, there is a stark difference between state capitals and satellite towns around them; stark differences in what we present to outsiders, and what we really are.

The entire drive, my mind was racing, almost crashing into itself with all the emotions I was feeling and the stories of prison visits I’d heard. Would they pee on me, would anyone be really injured? Would they be hungry, angry or just stoic? I tried to distract myself with music, with very little success.

As we turned onto the dirt road leading to the prison, the butterflies in my belly doubled, trying to keep up with the increasing military presence we encountered. I was reminded of the absolute power of celebrity and the media (read as radio) when we were stopped at one of the checkpoints and told to go somewhere far to park. Then Big Mo introduced himself and it was magical how all the soldiers started hailing him. Fist bumps, laughs, the once tense mood melted into camaraderie because the soldiers matched a face with a voice they listened to maybe everyday.

We got into the prison reception, and the ladies were taken into a room to be searched. I’ve been body searched on three continents and I tell you, none have been as embarrassing and almost invasive as this search. The body search in America comes close, but these guys take the cake abeg.

We were led to a courtyard where there were at least 100 inmates sitting under canopies and laughing as one of us cracked jokes. And there was more laughter, raucous laughter as comedians thrilled the inmates. It got better, there were comedians drawn from the inmates themselves. Hilarity!

Beyond the laughter though, I was bawling like a baby at different points. One of them? One of the comedians was told he could only do one joke. He finished it, and when the mic was going to be taken from him, he said he’d been locked up for 8 years and he didn’t know when next he’d hold a microphone. Cue my wiping my eyes furiously.

When each performer finished, he would give out a tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap, or any of the little household items we had. The joy on their faces as they received the items, the look of longing on the faces of their peers, cue my wiping my eyes furiously.

Sometimes it was easy to forget we were actually amongst inmates. The thunderous laughter, hailing their own performers or ours, and the clapping would have been great joy to a politician at a rally. Each time an official asked them to move back, or sit down though? I remembered, all over again.

I wondered what crimes they might have committed to get there, wondered about their friends and family and if they were missed, if some of them had families waiting for them to get out, or if they had moved on. I was told of people who were locked up (for years) because they couldn’t afford bail of N5000.

A pastor from House on The Rock The Refuge gave a brief exhortation, and he led us in the song ‘Everything written about you is great’ by Steve Crown before that. Watching the prisoners standing, waving their hands in worship? Kai. Pastor TJ preached hope, courage, and Jesus being able to turn their lives around.

We danced too, even me! The performers all danced with the inmates, the prison officials danced with themselves, and then us females (two of us) were asked to come out to dance. Took all of me not to cry all over again as they hailed us to the ‘stage’; couldn’t manage beyond shuffling from side to side.

And it was a teary Chioma who gave soaps and toothpaste to the inmates, including one really old, frail man as afternoon turned to evening and we had to leave.

I was turning everything we’d experienced in my mind as we walked to the reception to be processed out. Only to see prison officials whipping one really rough-looking man so quickly it seemed like every step I took coincided with a swish of the whip. I started begging the official to stop, tears flying down my face. One of the officials told me not to waste tears on the man; apparently he’d been released from this prison after spending four years for raping a female; he had just been arrested, caught in the act of raping a four-year old boy. Yes. A four-year old. A boy.

I left.

PS: A very big thank you to Big Mo, Chuks D General, Willy Willy (all of Wazobia FM and who have organised these prison visits for a number of years), all the comedians and entertainment guys who came along on this visit. You guys are awesome.

ADVANCE WARNING: This is going to be a bit all over the place, like my mind is at the moment. Ready? Cool.

Have you ever been lied to? From the so-called little lies where you say you’re on the way but you’re just about to jump into the shower, to the yes you’ll buy one but you know you can’t afford it and you were just trying to save face, to the fibs told to save yourself from trouble, on to the intentional half-truths or outright falsehood that rips hearts and minds apart.

Before we all jump on our sanctimonious horses with tales of the evildoers around us, have we lied to others too? It’s easy for everyone to talk about how they’ve been hurt or wronged, but do we remember we might have wronged others too? Hope this explains that this post is as much for me as it is for you.

So I’ve just found out a friend has been lying to me for a bit, and I’m gutted, and on a number of levels too. First because I’m not innocent and there’s that bit about coming to equity with clean hands (I think it should be changed to a clean heart though). Second because sometimes I’m as trusting as a child who’s told to go inside the room to get her slippers so she can go out with mommy. Even though I know I’ll get left at home (again), I still trust that this time it won’t happen. But it does, and I’m crushed all over again.

Away from me, there’s the lie by omission which involves leaving out facts so that a different narrative other than the truth or true representation of things is formed. It is also refusing/neglecting/deciding to leave existing misconceptions as they are.

Exaggerations are also lies. So you have nine pencils yet you say you have 300. Do you have pencils? Yes. Do you have 300 though? Sigh. In the same vein, under representation is the family of falsehood too. Very simply, you say you have 9 pencils, but you really have 300. Why lie?

What other forms of lies do you know of? Which ones are you guilty of? Are you a habitual, compulsive, or pathological liar? Is it as natural as the air you breathe? Do you feel bad about it? Trying to stop or slow down on them?

I found this poem by Isaac Watts here, thought it was apt.

O ’tis a lovely thing for youth
To early walk in wisdom’s way;
To fear a lie, to speak the truth,
That we may trust to all they say!

But liars we can never trust,
Even when they say what is true.
And he who does one fault at first
And lies to hide it, makes it two.

Have we not known, nor heard, nor read
How God does hate deceit and wrong?
How Ananias was struck dead,
Caught with a lie upon his tongue?

So did his wife Sapphira die,
When she came in, and grew so bold
As to confirm that wicked lie,
Which just before her husband told.

The Lord delights in them that speak
The words of truth; but every liar
Must have his portion in the lake
That burns with brimstone and with fire.

Before anyone comes at me for making it a religious matter (why anyone would think to separate the spiritual from the physical is a totally different matter for another day), here’s a little reminder about the golden rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Simple.

Before you tell that next untruth, think about how you would feel if someone said it to you. I’m going to do that too.

Hello everyone!

So I’m  having a look at my drafts, and apparently I started trying to write this post in 2014! Sigh! I can be so bad sometimes… Lol! And this was March 2014 o, not even the end of the year! Sigh.

At the time, I noticed a strand of grey hair and if I remember correctly, I was both amused and panicked! I remember thinking, it’s all over, I’m old! Lol! Forgetting that at some point in this my short existence I was so in love with patches of grey, and one of my friends actually dyed her hair white! Loved it but didn’t think it would suit me so I never tried it.

Anyway, with the realisation of aging (lol) come a few other things that I must either take note of or suffer the consequences, and I thought I’d share some of them with you today, and maybe you can share how your bodies have changed as you grow older if you’ve been looking out like me:)

Do we do that? Cool!

Acid Reflux has become a thing! Normally I could eat whenever, wherever, whatever and not think about it. I had my first episode of acid reflux in 2014, and while I’m very sure it’s not because I started inching towards 30, I’m sure something about my metabolism and general digestion has changed. By 2015 I had to start carrying a bit of medication around for it, but the biggest help for me has been watching what/when I eat, and avoiding positions (like lying down to eat, lol) that trigger it. So I’m doing ok.

Milk. I know, we’re still on food. So, I grew up on milk, like my parents didn’t spare that at all. I remember being sick as a child and mom mixing malt and milk for me to drink morning, afternoon, and night. Yum! The gorgeous thickness of that drink is a memory that will never go away, and unfortunately remain only a memory. These days, my belly says no to milk. Like, not a maybe or just a little bit, it says no. I disobey that at my own peril. Sigh. I don’t want to grow up!

Sleep. I actually had insomnia between 2012 and 2014, and I remember years before surviving a full week with less than 16 hours sleep (in total) and not feeling anything. Lol, I remember the period in Greenhithe when I couldn’t sleep for like 3 days straight, and my boyfriend at the time got a little weary with my phoning him in the middle of the night to gist because I was awake. Lol! These days though? First two days not sleeping ok might be alright, but anything after that and Chioma the Grump comes out to play. And we don’t like Chioma the Grump…

Confidence. There’s a quiet confidence that comes with facing things you’ve faced before, and most of the things that we go through now we’ve either gone through before, heard/read of someone who’s been in similar circumstances, etc. My point? We’re at the point where ‘there’s nothing new under the sun’ starts to hold proper meaning, and that brings a certain ‘been there done that’ kind of confidence. At least it does that for me.

Decisions. You’re responsible for the decisions you make. Good, bad, with rewards or consequences. You, alone. Gone are the days when you can blame the sun, moon, stars, friends, and even chickens for the wrong steps you take, the foolish moves you make, etc. Not happening any more Boo, everyone (including yourself) is a little less forgiving of the ‘passing the buck’ game.

Friends. I’ve gotten a firm handle of my buddies, best mate(s), friends, acquaintances, and the monitoring spirits. Lol! I said I wasn’t going to but hey, what’s a blog post without some good candour? We all have those friends who are close enough to monitor our progress without contributing more than snarky comments that might sound funny but are actually nasty when  you think of them later. Take a minute, think about it. You have those ones too? We all do! On the other hand I’ve figured out the buddies who can ride through a storm together, the ones who will help you hide a body (figuratively o), who will uphold you with prayer, amen to great friendships and working to keep them in the face of whatever disagreement or provocation!

God is everything. When I was younger and heard things like He’s everything, it didn’t hold as much meaning as it does now, how much I’ve learned about God that shows me I know nothing! Walking with God, stumbling, letting Him hold my hands and lead me has been one of my most defining changes; knowing that Someone so big and great and mighty and awesome loves this little person (me) so fiercely is everything. And that love isn’t conditional, just like I love my niece and nephew fiercely even when they offend me. God is everything.

That’s a few of the things that have changed for me, either regarding perspective or physically. What’s changed for you?

PS: Must do a giveaway soon, haven’t done one since 2014. Sigh. You this Chioma sef.

Children of God!

How’s everyone doing? Good? I know, I’ve been absent, not unavoidably, but I promise I couldn’t help it. I need you to understand how hard I tried! God is faithful sha, the year’s shaping up really nicely, and I can’t but be thankful. Where do I start from? I have a brand new, gorgeous niece! Like, when I held her like an hour after she popped out (literally, lol), I felt like my heart would explode! Very thankful!

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Take a minute to admire my gorgeous head, will you?

So, what I’ve been up to? Or do we just look at the things I said I’ve learned and then they incorporate bits of what I’ve been up to? Yep, I prefer the second option, let’s do that.

  1. Sometimes you need to let people go. Like cut them off, and uprooting whatever stumps they attempt to leave behind because they’re cancerous and you don’t want any reappearances. And sometimes that can be difficult. And that’s ok, because we’re human, flesh and blood, etc. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do sometimes!
  2. Prayer is a direct line to God. Like D-I-R-E-C-T. So in February my inner lights of my car stopped working, and I’m afraid of my mechanic cos every time he fixes something it’s never what it used to be. So it works, but I just know the general equilibrium of the car has been messed with. Anyway, so that night I prayed and said to God that He could fix my car and save me from using potential tithe or offering money to fix it (I know, I’m such a spoiled Jesus baby). Guess what? Next night I drove the car, guess whose inner lights came on? Whoop! Thank you God!
  3. Mechanics, tailors, carpenters, electricians, all artisans are cut from the same cloth. Like I cannot deal! I was going to learn tailoring (and I know a friend who picked up the skill recently and is doing great) but am I going to learn all the others too? Sigh.
  4. Babies are work, a lot of work! My niece has the loudest voice I’ve ever heard on a baby… my God! Like when she’s upset, she can raise the dead! To be honest I don’t remember if my nephew was this loud or if we’ve forgotten because he’s a bit older (3 going on 300, lol). Either way my little princess has lungs! Dang! She will join a choir biko, we won’t waste this talent.
  5. Children say the darndest things, no really they do. So, my nephew is three, our little majesty. He’s awesome, and I’m excited at how much he’s growing up, and how he’s learned that Chioma’s iPad needs something called internet if he’s going to watch Dora the Explorer on it. Lol. So, where it would have been “Chioma can I use your iPad?” it’s become “Chioma do you have internet?” Lol. Cuteness overload when he wakes up in the morning and first thing he asks me is if I have internet. Uncle say good morning jor!
  6. I miss my aunt, and I don’t think we’ll ever stop talking about her. So my mom’s been around for just under a month now, and we were all gisting yesterday when it occurred to us that we talk about my aunty maybe everyday! Sometimes more than once in a day. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. You bastard.
  7. I haven’t read as much as I planned to do this year. I said I would do a minimum of three books a month, I’m almost rolling my eyes at how far away from that I am! Sigh. Who has a reading plan or something like that I can TRY to follow? I just feel a little inadequate when I’m not amassing titles and going through them.
  8. I haven’t been out of Nigeria since January, and outside Africa since October. Have you looked at the exchange rates recently? Cough.
  9. 30 isn’t as scary as I thought it would be. It’s the big 3-0 in a few months, and I have a whole lineup of activities I’m working on, across a number of continents (yes Boo), and involving a few crazy heights! Yeesss!! I c-a-n-n-o-t wait! Bucket list of life and destiny! Now looking up to God and showing him the total for the trip, and smiling, because God likes it when I smile. Lol…
  10. I fasted in January with my church, HolyHill Church in Wuse 2. 21 days (20 for me because I missed one day). It was quite the experience, and I look forward to being able to do that and just focus on God without it being a congregational activity. There’s nothing like activating a direct line to God walai… I cannot explain!

There you have it, 10 things I’ve been opened up to from the beginning of this year till now.

11. And here’s a nice little number 11 because it’s my blog, and I can – I’m a fine girl! Whoosh!!! Ok, I didn’t just figure that out, lol, but this is more like your point to ponder, reflect on, and dance to! Lol!

PS: I almost had an accident yesterday night… I was headed to Shoprite to buy chicken (lol, bestie says I wasn’t even going anywhere ‘serious’) and suddenly this guy in a Toyota Camry just comes out of literally nowhere. I’m over 100km/hr and so I call the name above every other name and step on the brakes – the one oyibo people call ‘jam the brakes’ – and I’ve never heard screeching that loud. My God! I didn’t hit it (ram into it would have been a more accurate description). My hands were steady, I didn’t swerve or endanger anyone, and interestingly, even though the guy sped forward just a little bit (when he heard the screeching I guess), the space between us wasn’t that much when my car stopped. Phew!

Praise God with me!

Hey you!

How’s your new year shaping up? Did you make resolutions? How many have you broken o!! Lol… I stopped making resolutions a little while ago, prefer to just keep striving for perfection, trusting God to help with chipping off the less than pretty bits, and working at it. To each their own though, if you made resolutions keep working at them, one day at a time ok?

On to this gist about fish, my brother in-law bought some really baby catfish (no I didn’t look up what baby catfish are called), and put them in a massive fish tank. It’s his first time of rearing them, and my second time of closely watching (maybe even being responsible for) fish growing since I was like 5 years old (long, long, long time ago my father had a poultry and a fish farm – he actually worked in the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries department).

Back to our fish in 2015, each time I go to see them, I learn something; sometimes a lesson so ‘alive’ I start to compare them with us humans. I had a chat with my sister this morning when we went to feed them, and decided I would capture my thoughts so far, and expand them as they grow (maybe even show y’all a photo or video of them sometime).

Ready? I’m excited about this!
1. Baby fish are really demanding, require a great deal of care. Their water must be changed every few days otherwise they get poisoned in it; you have to follow the pace of their eating when feeding them otherwise the leftover food in the water sinks to the bottom and becomes a problem. Still on feeding, if they’re underfed, they die. If they’re overfed, they die. (It’s worse than looking after a baby)!

2. Carers must be as intuitive and perceptive as possible. We know the that are active, the ones that are not as active, the ones we need to prod so they move around and eat, and the ones that have passed on but look like they’re still alive (which is a health problem for the others). So we’re constantly looking.

3. Fish are a lot of work! But, it’s rewarding to see them grow, and feed, and grow, and feed, and grow… (you get the whole idea)

Remember what I said about following their pace with feeding? That’s a bit tricky, and here’s how I relate it to us humans. So, my darling nephew has days when all he wants to eat is Pringle’s, and he refuses to eat anything else. Do we ‘follow his pace’ and let him eat 200 packs of Pringle’s? Of course not. But he must eat three times a day, and get snacks in as they’re due.

Relating that a bit further to our relationship with God, sometimes we ask for stuff that we are not ready for, might not be able to handle if we get it, or it’s just bad for us generally. God says no (or wait), and we ‘take up arms’. But He can see the full picture, He has the manual, and so He’s playing that out for us. Just like us and the fish.

Still on our relationship with God, sometimes He needs to move us to different waters because again He sees the entire picture but we’re either comfortable with where we are, afraid of change, or just being pig-headed (like I can be sometimes). And so we get hurt (sometimes gravely), because we are not in His plan.

Let’s take it to the fish. When they started growing and we saw that some of them were fattening faster than others, my brother in-law decided to separate them so the smaller ones would have a chance. They ‘refused’. I don’t know how to explain that, but they refused. One day, when the water change was going on, my brother in-law and sister saw something whitish and so they thought the silicon at the opening to the tank had given way. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that. It was a half-eaten fish. Yes, apparently fish eat each other.

Yep. Yep. I was as shocked as you might be now (if you didn’t know).

Final point for today, checking on these babies has reaffirmed to me two things.

A. Some of the fish died, and for no reason. Sometimes you do everything you’re supposed to do, tick all the boxes, put in the work, but stuff still goes wrong. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up.

B. Some of the fish are triple the size of others. Some people will run faster than others, others will get to their destination faster, and that’s okay too. Are you confident you’re in God’s plan? Are you working hard? Then stay in your lane. Don’t (and this was the first example that came to my head) cut your hair because the people with short hair are more successful, or dip your hands into things you know you shouldn’t because xyz did that and “oh, look at where they are now!”

Are you a little more relaxed with my title now? Let’s talk about it! Have you ever reared animals? What do you want to share from that experience?

PS: Baby catfish are called ‘sac fry’, or ‘fry’

Welcome back! Part one is here, and ended with me falling asleep, despite my best intentions to watch Minions!

Addis Ababa.

We disembarked, and I met up with Fatu and Shamsudeen who were going on to Kigali, and Japheth and Rotimi who would spend the night and meet us the next morning.

And then the struggle for WIFI began. I’d flown through Addis at least three times this year, and I knew the airport didn’t have WIFI. But, my companions said to ask one of the Customer Care agents and she pointed us to one connection that didn’t work. So we went to a café and they said if we bought stuff worth $30 ($10 each), they would let us connect one device each. Didn’t make sense either, so we walked around for a bit, and then it was time to get on our connecting flight.

Oh, before I forget, while we were waiting in the departure area, there was this guy playing music really loudly from his phone. Like, with every song, the music became louder. So, I brought out my Bose mini speakers, covered it with my poncho, connected it to my phone, and started playing Nigerian music. Turn up! Didn’t take long before the guy turned off his music. (I’m sorry!)

We boarded, took off and for some reason I was really hungry. Ate, went back to sleep (again movies were useless), and then interestingly I dreamt about the movie Raid on Entebbe. When I woke up, even more interestingly we’d landed at Entebbe to drop off some guys and pick some others. I told Shamsudeen we were in Uganda; he said we were in Kigali. I looked at the time and said we were more than an hour early to have landed in Kigali, but somehow he convinced Fatu and they both got off the plane.

Hian. I thought about it again, got out of my seat, and went to the door of the aircraft. I asked one of the hostesses and she confirmed we were indeed at Entebbe, and then I saw my friends standing there (by this time they’d found out they were in the wrong country), smiling (shaking my head).

Anyway, so we got back in our seats, and it was back to sleep for the hour-long flight to Kigali. We touched down at 2am.

Hello WIFI! Like, it was a bit like Frankfurt airport, where you’re spoiled for choice with WIFI. Apparently, there were a lot of us who’d come in, and after we finished with immigration, sorted our visas we got into buses and headed for our hotels. Mine, the beautiful Lemigo!

My room was reminiscent of the old bedchambers I’d seen in movies, so quaint, so warm, so beautiful. Want to see?

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Fit for my royal majesty!

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What a beauty! When I make up my own house I must have a bed like this…

By the way, there was a beautiful Bible on the bedside stool, and two packs of condoms in the drawer beneath it. Lol. I stayed awake long enough to take in the beauty of the room, and then it was lights out. Literally.

By the time I woke up, it was already time to head to the first of the sessions; rushed a bath, grabbed a bite (their food is gorgeous), and off to the meeting halls we went. God being super merciful, we were lodged in the same hotel the event was holding. Good stuff!

Potatoes, the sexiest sausages I've had in a while, and eggs. A bit of a tale with the eggs, communication, and language. I asked for egg whites with peppers only, even pointed them out to the chef. I got eggs with bacon. #StillGrateful #INeedToBrushUpMyFrench

Potatoes, the sexiest sausages I’ve had in a while, and eggs. A bit of a tale with the eggs, communication, and language. I asked for egg whites with peppers only, even pointed them out to the chef. I got eggs with bacon. #StillGrateful #INeedToBrushUpMyFrench

I thoroughly enjoyed the panels, listening to election issues and hindrances to youth and female participation across Africa. Interestingly, the problems are the same – high cost of participation, election funding, tokenism, lack of intergenerational trust and knowledge sharing, partial election umpires, patriarchy, I could go on and on. In that regard, can’t we say that Africa is a country? Up for discussion.

Then it was lunch time and after we said hello to a bunch of people (ticked off the ‘networking box’) we made our plates, and joined a table where one lady was spitting half her food out as she spoke. I was happy to leave the table. Urgh.

We got back into the sessions and Nana who was supposed to be up the next morning had been moved to that afternoon. Boy did she bring it! She spoke as a young female actively involved with a political party, and I was so proud. So very proud of the knowledge she brought to the panel, the confidence of her delivery, and the passion as she expressed truth after truth. So proud!

That night, we decided to go to the hotel gym. Brethren in Christ, it was an intense workout! According to my Polar, I burnt about 750kcal; very productive.

Dinner was a drag. I rang room service, ordered chicken and chips, and they said it’d be ready by the time we got downstairs. We got downstairs and it wasn’t ready so we waited. 30 minutes after we sent the first person to the chef, nothing. He didn’t even come back. I was irritated by this time cos I was hungry and the language barrier made communication a bit more difficult. Nana sent the second person to the chef but it seems the thing that swallowed the first guy swallowed this one too!

Of course we left. Ended up in a lounge called People’s and the music was off the chain! From Nigerian songs to the 90’s, to chart toppers, the video DJ (like audio wasn’t enough) dropped hit after hit, after hit! Turn up! Oh we had an amazing time, and I had two bottles of water instead of ordering food because I was distracted by the really great music, and it was really late anyway.

Got back to the hotel about 3am and the receptionist said my food was ready. Shaking my head! I just went to bed. Good night jor!