Crackers, Hot Chocolate and Other Things I am Thankful for

I am really glad that I haven't written a blog post in months. Really Glad. Absolutely thrilled actually, because you see if I had written a post, it would have come across a bit like a Danielle Steele movie, or a Nollywood 'action' film, whichever you consider to be more depressing. I think I have been wallowing a bit (or maybe a lot) in self-pity, self-centeredness and every other thing that involves 'self'. Like Joyce Meyers once said it was all about "what about me, what about me, what about me"  *insert annoying robotic voice.* 

I would have whined a fair bit about how stressed I was with school work, how I didn't have a life, how much I thought my personal tutor hated me.....or wait, I did blog about all those things after all. Er, well, the point is. I am done with complaining, done, done and dusted. So done in fact, that I decided that I was going to spend time today listing the things I was thankful for.  So here goes.

I am thankful that I live close to a 24hour supermarket. How else would I be able to satisfy my late night cravings for crackers and cheese? Or not so freshly made croissants. If it were not for my access to late night snacks, I would not be the girl that I am today, one who is only slightly behind on her essays and project work. I would be the girl who is far, far behind, like as far behind as my classmate and friend who has a thing for turning up at lectures just at the end. It's really not his fault you see, he finds it practically impossible to get out of bed before 1pm. So yes, I am thankful for late night grocery shopping.

I am also very thankful for my flatmate who insists on making an absolute mess in the kitchen anytime he's done burning his meals. Really I am, how else would I have been able to make use of the large supply of cleaning products I bought at a whim? Why, they'd have all gone to waste without him there to constantly remind me to whip out the scouring liquid and what have yous if I had any hope of being able to prepare any kind of edible meals in the near future. Yes, I am thankful for you my friend from Asia and the large party of people you insist on entertaining regularly. Really, I am.

Again, I am thankful friends who allow themselves to be used as a sound board for my unending sarcasm. I don't know where I would be without them. I would probably be walking around with a sour look on my face, bursting from the seams with hundreds of potentially very sarcastic comments in my head and no one to unleash them upon. Ah, the things we do for friends. I love you all, and want to assure you that I do not take your endurance for granted. I love how understanding you are of the fact that it is through sarcasm that I can freely express myself and my good, not so good and sometimes fairly atrocious point of view on various subject maters. It is also how I bond with people just so you know, this means that the more I make fun of you, the more I probably love you. This isn't always the truth vice versa however.

I am really very thankful for my baby nephew. I hear he is now walking all over the place, ripping things apart and generally being a nuisance the way mini humans his age tend to do. It makes me quite proud. I still remember when all he could do to drive his parents crazy was to scream him head off, now he can drive them crazy by methodically dismantling all their valuables while screaming his head off. Progress I tell you. Progress.

I am thankful for Hot Chocolate. I truly believe that the day God created it he had me in mind.

I am thankful for the birds that insist on singing outside my window 24 hours a day 7days a week. It amazes me how it appears they have no need for sleep. Do birds sleep? I think i'll have to Google that.

I am thankful for my family. I love them more than they'll ever  know. (Well maybe not but I think that last bit sounded rather nice).

Above all, I am thankful for the reason for Easter. Thankful that I have a Savior that is the embodiment and true definition of love and who truly loves me more than I will ever comprehend.

Happy Easter everyone

Oh and by the way did I tell you? My personal tutor and I? We're best friends now.

Special shout out to  Dosh for checking up on me. Thanks for the love : )

Cheers

The Age Old Question

Hello people,

Blows dust.

Right, so I know it's a New Year and I should probably say something about that, as well as perhaps write the obligatory post about my New Year resolutions and stuff. But see the thing is *coughs* I don't have any.

So, instead, you're going to have to make do with this video I stumbled across on the web awhile ago.

Now, after watching it, I immediately got on Skype with one of my good male friends (he's in a very committed long term relationship so no, I wasn't trying to find out if he fancied me or not) and asked him what he thought about it.

I was highly amused and intrigued by the fact that every single guy in the video answered in the negative. While yes, it is possible that the producers edited it to give a biased view; I do think that it probably is a lot closer to the truth than many guys would care to admit.

My friend, hummed and haa-ed about it and refused to give a definitive answer. Then, he launched into one of his long speeches peppered generously with complicated words that he is famous for and I left the conversation more confused than when I had first started it.

Further attempts to get an opinion form other guy friends were met with blank stares, shrugs, indecipherable mumbles and some outright avoidance strategies.

I just simply couldn't understand it. Why weren't they giving me a straight forward answer. I am not quite vain enough to think that every guy out there who happens to be my friend is secretly, madly in love with me. Indeed, that would be a very scary prospect. So I find it a bit hard to understand why I couldn't get the kind of feedback from them that I wanted.

Then, I had an epiphany. I remembered, that somewhere out there in blogsville, lay a somewhat abandoned blogsite that I had occasionally over the past year or so scribbled down everything from the occasional rant, to mulls to random bits of nonsense upon. I thought to myself, Eureka, I've found it! I know! I'll put it out there as an open question, and surely, there will be a brave man or two who will boldly, without reservations or fear of chastisement, seeing as they more than likely don't know me at all in real life give me honest and valid opinions.

So this is an invite to all men (and women) in blogsville to please kindly share their thoughts on this issue. I'd be more than pleased to hear what you think.

Oh and for the record, I rather suspect that men and women interpreted this question in two different ways.

I think women processed the word friend, as a number of people with whom they are on familiar terms with, ranging from to the guys in their class/office with whom they occasionally trade friendly banter with, to Johnny, the guy who has lived down the road from them since they were five and who has attained the status of being referred to as a 'cousin'.

While men, processed the word friends as a specific person or small number of females with whom they spend a considerable amount of time with in Informal and/or social settings.

I may be wrong, but somehow I don't think so.

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

P.S I'd like to find the store where empathy is sold in a bottle. If i did, I'd buy it in copious amounts and personally hand deliver it to a choice number of Nigerian politicians and 'rulers'. I'll say no more on the matter. #occupynigeria. That is all.

Cheers.

On my Wedding Day....

After writing this ARTICLE for  Wedding Trendy the other day, I was inspired to take out a few minutes to imagine what my wedding day would actually be like. I decided that I would try to keep it as real as possible and not dream up one of those made up fairy tale things.

This is what I came up with.

It’ll probably start off with me waking up with a headache, because I stayed up late the previous night gisting with my friends, whom I hadn’t seen in forever. We all knew when the clock struck 12am that we should have gone to bed at that very moment, however, that was when my friend *Janet remembered that she hadn’t yet told us about how she had nabbed her now ex-boyfriend red-handed with his side chick. The gist was at its sweetest point and we just couldn’t resist. An hour later and we finally went off to bed.

Now, it is five hours later and I’ve had to be woken up to have a bath because the hairdresser will soon be around. Drat and double drat. My eyes feel like sand paper and I look forward to seating down and having a nap while the stylist does his thing. No such luck, soon all my friends are awake. Someone slots in an Adele CD and I leave my chair to join them at intervals as they sashay across the make shift dance floor in my room, much to the endless frustration of my Efe, my hair stylist.

 Finally, he is done, and now it is the makeup artists’ turn. I manage to annoy her as well, as I have now danced myself into a frenzy and I am sweating a bit across my forehead. This means she finds it impossible to apply my primer and brown powder and she gently bullies me into sitting still in front of the standing fan. While at the same time, having her assistant fan me vigorously with her copy of a magazine she was featured in recently.

Eventually, my face dries out and she can now begin her job. I take the magazine from her assistant, and begin to flip through it. This is when I realize that I am hungry, starving in fact. My mother, bless her heart is somewhere in the house fussing over the final details of my reception venue, and forgot to insist that I have a meal before starting my make-up. I sheepishly inform my make-up artist about my plight and suggest that I quickly grab a bite before she does my lipstick. I promise to be very careful and not mess up any of her work so far. I summon my younger cousin to make me two packets of Indomie Instant Noodles, she is the only one who knows exactly how I like it, with just the right amount of curry and pepper and an omelette on the side. She shows up with it fifteen minutes later and I proceed to gladly stuff my face, being cautious to avoid mistakenly rubbing the carefully applied blush on my cheeks.

The make- up is done, and my mother after reappearing decides that it is time for me to slip into my dress, seeing as the photographer just arrived and all and wants to take pictures of me in my attire. I oblige and she leaves. I immediately slip in my old Destiny’s Child CD and my friends and I happily dance around to two rounds of ‘Say my Name’ and one of ‘Survivor’  before we are caught, and I am ordered to get dressed instantly or else.

X amount of time later, and I am dressed and ready to play the role of ‘The Bride’. As I walk down the stairs, I quickly flip through my BlackBerry and see that I have a random message from my former Grad school classmate who now lives in Beijing. I haven’t heard from him in awhile and he has no idea that I am getting married today. When he asks me where I am and what I am doing. I respond that I am at a corn field in Argentina harvesting maize. He totally buys it and I am strangely pleased.

I get downstairs and begin to pose for the photographer, my friends join in and we insist on making funny faces much to my Grandma’s chagrin. She believes that weddings are no longer taken seriously these days. On her living room wall is an old black and white picture of her and my granddad on their wedding day. They both look very sober, almost like somebody died.

Pictures taken, we then realise that the church service is only half an hour away. We quickly set off for the church arriving there just in time.

I begin my walk down the aisle. I catch the eye of my groom at the altar and we both struggle not to giggle.  It is difficult to keep a straight face as we say our vows. You see, we can clearly see the Best Man John, giving the eye to one of the bridesmaids and we are tickled by this. However, there is the serious matter of being attached to each other for life to be attended to, so we eventually take our eyes of the drama and focus on the present.

After all formalities have been done and papers signed, we leave the church and head straight for the reception venue to take official wedding photographs.

Then, it is time for the reception party. We walk in calmly after being announced by the MC. My husband simply refuses to dance as he has two left feet and I am secretly relieved even though I initially pretended to make a big fuss about it. I was simply trying to guilt him into buying me a new pair of shoes. Suffice to say that it worked. I now have a brand new pair of Red Brian Attwood sandals sitting comfortably on the floor of my closet.

The party is in full swing; half of the guests here never showed up at the ceremony but came straight to the reception instead. The MC takes the Microphone and all necessary jokes are told in between performances by various artistes (including Lara George) and dance troupes (Spirit of David?).

Hours later, I lean over and begin to whisper into my Grooms ear. A few of the guests sigh and assume we are whispering sweet nothings. However, in reality, the following conversation is taking place:

Me: “Guy, I’m hungry o. As in seriously hungry”     

Groom: “Me too o. I’ve been trying to catch the eyes of our servers but none of them are looking our way. *Mary (my chief brides maid) is nowhere to be found and I think I saw *John slipping off with that bridesmaid a while ago.

We sigh.

Finally, I cannot take it anymore.

“All right. I’ve had enough” I declare

My Groom looks at me nervously; he recognizes my tone of voice and the determined set of my jaw all too well

“What do you want to do?” He asks.

I gather the hem of my dress and lean over “We are going to get something to eat. Leggo”

“Are you crazy?!” He says, we can’t just walk off the stage.

“Yes we can” I say, “take a look at these people, none of them are paying any attention to us, they are far more interested in the caterers and that ridiculous live band that is playing, the one your Dad insisted we get.  Remind me to thank him profusely after wards”

With that, I stand up and head left off the stage with my new husband behind me. We find our way to the back of the caterer’s tent. I demand a plate of Pounded yam and Banga soup, and a serving of spicy chicken wings. Our food is hurriedly brought to us and we eagerly chow it down. Minutes later, we are suitably satisfied and the servers don’t know where to put their faces. I am quite certain they have never seen such a shameless display of hunger by a bride and groom before in their careers in the event planning industry. We shall likely be talked about for weeks, but we do not care. We are happy and satiated and decide to head back to our seats. Just then, I notice that there is a small palm oil stain from the soup I just voraciously consumed on my left shoulder.  I am glad that we have taken all our official photographs, but I am slightly worried about what to do if an overzealous friend decides to clamber on stage and take some close ups on her mobile phone. I shrug and decide to cross that bridge if or when I got there. 

Seconds later, we are seated. Ten minutes pass by and we realize that we are bored out of our skulls and long to disappear. But alas, we cannot. We are the ‘bride and groom’, the ‘stars’ of the day, and we simply cannot take off like we have done in the past after being served at a wedding and realising that there was really nothing else to do.

We decide to count the number of girls in ill-fitting dresses, then men with ugly shoes on, then the number of times my Aunt *Carol snitched extra souvenirs from the people serving them. Finally, we were done, we’d run out of things to count but still, the wedding was not yet officially over and so we had to stay put.

Finally, another hour passes, and most of the guests have left. We thankfully leave our seats and clamber into our vehicles while blowing kisses to our respective parents, family members and close friends who are still around as we drive off. We are exhausted. It’s already night fall, and we still need to change, pick up my luggage and head off to the hotel closer to the airport where we will be spending the night, Seeing as we have a morning flight to (insert appropriately cool destination) for our honeymoon.

I get to my room and begin to wheel out my suitcase, and then I remember that I am supposed to feel nostalgic about this moment. I am tired, and can barely muster up enough emotions to be excited, even about the fact that I will never have to see Ahmed, my neighbours weird Security Man again. You see, I will no longer be making nightly trips to the shop down the street to buy Top -up credit for my mobile phone at night, so I have no need to bump into his obnoxious flashlight wielding self.  After a few seconds, I have had enough and I proceed down the stairs to the front door where my husband helps me put my bags into the boot of the car. My mother is back from the reception venue despite my attempt to cleverly sneak off before her return, and with good reason too. She proceeds to annoyingly insist of taking pictures of me as in my last moments before I officially leave for my husband’s house (re: hotel room). I jump into the car as soon as I can and we are off.

We finally get to the hotel and check in. I jump into the shower while he makes arrangements for an early morning taxi pick up service to the airport. Fifteen minutes later, I fall into bed with my husband behind me soon after. It only takes a few seconds before we are sound asleep. Exhausted by my activities of the day, the honeymoon could wait. Sleep was calling, after all tomorrow was another day.

The END

Gotcha!

Do not be fooled, there shall surely be shenanigans. 

THE END: For real this time

Disclaimer: This entire article is a joke and should be taken with a pinch of salt.

Cheers

Article on Wedding Trendy 2

Hello All,

Recently, I sent the awesome editor of Wedding Trendy an article i'd scribbled down. Once again, he has been kind enough to not deem it utter rubbish and worth of his online webzine. You may decide to check it out. Ok, actually, I rather think that you should check it out. To access it, please click on THIS! link.

Till later on then.

Cheers

Point Taken!

Okay. Ok. I get it. I really do. You guys couldn't care less about my boring sojourn into academia. The proof is written all over the stats for my last post which are the lowest they have ever been, since....well, since i don't know when. But really, I get the message, honest. From now on, I shall refrain from boring you with wanton tales of my academic misadventures, stories of my encounters with unpleasant teachers,  rants about how exhausted I am and why I am seriously considering running away and joining the circus. Just know, that as a result, you all shall also never get to hear about all the other juicy stuff that's been going on.

From now on. I shall focus on the amazingly fascinating subject of my dreams. Why? Well, because I can. Since my real life has been voted boring, unengaging and barely worthy of a page view or two. I shall stick to the world of my over active imagination. Be afraid, be very afraid. I have a mind that has been accused of being highly erratic and one or two people have even had the gall to accuse me in the past of not being normal. Bah to them all. Normal is as normal does no?

So. In the spirit of keeping it in the realm of fantasy.  I shan't tell you about how the dreaded presentation is tomorrow, and how i am ever so slightly in a bit of a panic about it. No. I won't. I will only end by saying that in the event no one reads this as well. I shall humbly and quietly pack my blogsville bags and head of into the sunset. Some one recently said and  I quote "Tumblr is much better anyways".

Cheers

Why I am Deliriously Happy

The title of this post was intentionally crafted to deceive you all.

This is because in reality, I'm tired. I'm frustrated, and I terribly want to cry. No actually, that's a lie. I have cried, occasionally. I'm  feeling really overwhelmed by my course load. I feel like I have no idea what i am doing, and it is really stressing me out. It doesn't help that there are so many high expectations, i don't want to let anyone down, and most of all, I really don't want to let myself down. I don't think I could take it if I did.

I feel rather sorry for my team mates, they seem to think I know something, and I have been assigned duties as regards our course assignments. I'm sure they expect that i'll turn up with something rather reasonable, serves them right for thinking that i'm smart just because i contribute towards discussion in class. No?

The other day, I sat on my bed and had a sort of trance, where some of the management models I've been studying were chasing me around and tormenting me, huge acronyms in funny cartoon colours, bouncing around, having a good laugh at my expense. Singing and snickering amongst themselves, "Look! She's Terrified! Petrified! Stupefied! by us. Ha ha!" I tire jare. I have a major presentation next week, i guess i'll find out then if i'm completely off track or not. In a funny way, as much as i dread it, i am also kind of looking forward to it, I just want to know already, if any of the huge amount of work i have done so far makes any sense, or if it's completely rubbish. At least then i'll know for sure. Then, i can start to figure out what i'm going to have to do to fix it.

I met my Personal Tutor today and I think he hates me. I really do, I tried to get chatty with him right away but Oga just totally shut me down. He had this expression on his face like "Right, let's just get this over with then". Really rather unpleasant. I think I'll just ignore him for the rest of the year and focus on my H.O.D who is all shades of amazing and always ever ready to have a chat. Yeah, he (my H.O.D) can be my Dr. Phil and the other one will be my, er, erm, well, I suppose like my dentist or something. You know? The guy you only see when you absolutely have no other options because that toothache is threatening to destroy your existence.

Dr Nasty seemed far more interested in the snacks we were served than in anything I had to say. Or maybe he was cranky hungry, he seemed slightly calmer after having ingested a sandwich or two. Just slightly though. I shall ignore him, i've met some of the most amazing members of faculty since I got here, and i'm not going to allow one person to ruin my so far pleasant experience in that regard.

Sometimes I wish there were many more Nigerians in my school. I don't think black people constitute up to 15% of the student body population. To be more realistic it is most likely to be significantly less than that. The result is that on the semi-rare occasion when you walk past another black person, you tend to stare at each other. Very weird, almost like we're acknowledging each others presence. Like "Hey! I see you fellow person of African origin. i see you!" Hehehe. Kind of funny. The few black people though seem to be predominantly Nigerian. Yeah, we are like that. Just everywhere. The other day, i met this dude. We start chatting and then he says, "So what part of Nigeria are you from?" I had a good laugh because we hadn't even had the 'So where are you from conversation?' He just (rightly) assumed. I jokingly told a German friend of mine the other day that anytime she saw a black person holding a BlackBerry, she could be 99% sure that they were Nigerian. To my mild surprise, she'd chuckled and agreed. "yes" she said "I noticed that there seems to be a strong appreciation for that product in your country, because every Nigerian I ever met has one!"

I have this new friend, that is like super woman. Seriously, I want to be like her when i grow up. Award winning athlete, super smart, amazing cook, alpha female, wonder woman extraordinaire. She inspires me to want to go out there and run a marathon, or at least look for my running shoes and have one or two spins on the treadmill sometime between now and when I graduate. Which shouldn't be too hard, seeing as i walk past it (the gym) almost everyday because it is embarrassingly close to my residence.

Ok. I have run out of gist, but before I sign off I have a huge announcement to make.

 *Drumroll please*

My nephew is now walking!            

 If you could see me now, you see that i have a huge, slightly stupid looking grin on my face. I am so excited, and please allow me. I am a first time Aunty, so everything that child does just turns me into mush.

I hereby dedicate this post to my darling T-Bobo whose first Birthday is tomorrow!

Aunty Mimi loves you more than all the tea in China, all the Gold in Saudi Arabia and all the Shawarma in Abuja. xoxo

Cheers

Late Night Thoughts

I certainly hope that this is not the kind of blogger I have become, the type who writes posts at odd hours of the night. Oh well. Right now, this is seems to be more convenient for me so I’ll just go with the flow.

This week has been extremely hectic. I'm so grateful for this weekend, and so far I’ve had the opportunity to kick back and relax. Was supposed to go on a day trip with a friend but I just couldn't be bothered. I ended up not showing up at the designated meeting point and she happily went along without me. I really do believe that everything works out together for good though. Turns out, that she showed up at the friend’s house we were supposed to go hang out at, and he'd gone all Jamie Oliver on her, full course lunch, table set for two (I strongly suspect, she refuses to confirm) and all the works. So you see? My laziness paid off, because three would have been a very awkward crowd indeed.

I'm desperately looking for a new church to worship at. I attended a Nigerian one the other week but I’m not sure I was really feeling it. I've decided to visit a few over the next couple weeks and hopefully I’ll find a place where I can feel a connection. I miss my regular church terribly, like an ache in the heart, a restless longing, you get my drift.

I love my classes though, and my H.O.D is just amazing. On the first day of a class we had with him, he split us into teams and made us work on team building exercises. There's no better way to quickly bond with a group of strangers than when you have a task ahead of you than you need to complete in a limited time frame. It was a race against the clock, adrenaline pumping, loads of giggles and sharing of ideas. Initially, I was a bit apprehensive but it turned out to be a whole load of fun. We all left the lecture theatre that day, arm in arm singing kumbaya having become fast friends.

Maybe later on I’ll do a post about all the zany characters in my group, after I get to know them a bit better.

On Friday evening, there was a liquid dinner/ getting to know each other type of thing for the Postgrad students. Seeing as I don't drink, I ended up spending the evening with the most hilarious Chinese dude who entertained me for hours about his adventures as a school boy in Japan. I will say one thing though, for all those women who think Nigerian men are just the worst and most unfaithful of the male specie, Japanese men seem to be a strong contender for the "Most Wayward Husband" prize if my new friend is to be believed.

I'm enjoying being a student again a bit more now. It’s fun to just throw on jeans and a t-shirt, and not having to worry about looking professional, polished and put together. This ain't the streets of Abuja. No one is scooping me, so I am allowed to be a bum if I so please.

I ate fried plantain today so I’m in a very happy mood. All I need now is some delicious moin-moin and sharwarma from 'Chicken Capitol' and I’m good to go.

The other day, a friend told me about some Nigerian girls who absolutely refuse to even look at Non-Nigerian men. I have to say that I’m a lot more open minded than that. Before some people create a ruckus, I’m not saying I’ll be coming home with a Parisian fiancé named Pierre, but I know that the same God who made the people of the Nigerian nation also made people from other parts of the world. I am one of the people who strongly believes than xenophobia, tribalism, racism, and ethnocentrism are from the pit of hell. A horrid way of thinking that causes people to be narrow minded and experience life in one-dimension. I try as much as possible to avoid people who act that way. Once, I was having lunch with a couple of friends, and the discussion turned to the issue of settling down. I was shocked and greatly horrified to hear one of my friends systematically run down the people from all the other villages in her Home State. You'd have thought she was talking about people from a distant land. I was appalled. "So basically" I said "you're of the opinion that only the people from your community are sane right?” She shrugged "Basically" she said. That's the kind of thinking that puts Nigeria in trouble.

Enough of my randomness.

This is probably the most random and non-coherent post I have ever written on this blog. Like I said earlier, I'm just going with the flow.

The last thing I want to say is this. I have absolutely no regrets about the life-changing decisions that I recently took. If anything, it was in a sense liberating. I really feel like I’m much less apprehensive about change. I hope that the next time I have to be decisive about the course of my life, I will do so with much less anxiety and a lot more faith.

My prayer for all my readers today is that you find the strength to pursue your dreams and live purpose driven lives. Again, very random and off topic, but please just stick with me on this.

Till much later then.

Cheers

CHANGES

I have that feeling right now. The one you have when you've been away from something or somewhere for awhile and then you get back to it. You start to cautiously feel you way around it but soon enough, in no time, it quickly becomes familiar again. 

The last couple months of my life have been a time of growth. I've had to make certain tough and ‘grown-up’ decisions. It all got a bit stressful at some points but I’m so thankful for the grace to have gotten through it.

That's life though I suppose, one hurdle after another, the end of a challenge signifying the beginning of another. I do dislike to sound too melancholic. I usually like to keep the tone of this blog rather witty and upbeat so I will move on and attempt to complete the rest of this post in a cheerful manner.

Right. So let's start again. A lot has been happening recently. 

For one, I quit my job.

The opportunity came for me to make an educational advancement and in the end I chose to do so over job security. Although I had grown rather fond of my motley crew of work colleagues, deep down inside, I was always aware that I wasn't anywhere close to achieving my full potential and realizing my career dreams. Erm, well, you see, the truth is, the time was ticking, homegirl woke up one day and realized that she was getting old, and staying in the same spot career wise, panicked and decided to jump ship. 

No I’m kidding. It wasn't like that at all.

Like I said earlier, the opportunity came up, I got accepted into the school I really wanted to attend, and I had to spend the last few weeks before my resignation came into effect trying to convince certain people around me that I wasn't crazy. I do realise of course that many of those people had good intentions and were merely worried about my welfare. However, it was equal parts frustrating and amusing having to have the same conversation over and over again with well meaning 'advisers'.

It all started with Mr X. He was absolutely horrified when I informed him of my decision. "But, but why?" he spluttered "We like having you here. What do you want to leave for? In fact. I'm going down to the Human Resources (H.R) department this instant and insisting that your application for a resignation be denied!” After calming him down with a few soothing words, he soon began to understand my stand on the matter and grudgingly came around.

Then the next day, I was accosted by a friend, *Halima who works in H.R. "Mimi! Oh Mimi! What have you done?" She cried "My boss told me she saw your letter. Why?" Apparently, there'd been a slight uproar in her sub-unit when my memo hit their desk. 

They'd spent some precious minutes gossiping, Er I meant discussing it and speculating about my sanity. There'd even been a few seconds where rumours flew about me getting a high profile job in a top ranking government institution. All I say to that is a big Ah-Men! She seemed flustered, and again I had to spend some time calming her down. She eventually caught her breath and wished me God's be. I made a mental note at that point to avoid going anywhere near the Human Resources Unit until my final day. I was successful with that for the point part, but was unfortunate enough to have to put up with a side eye and a gruff "So who are you leaving us for?" from Halima's boss a few days later. For some reason, a number of them chose to believe the silly rumour instead of the less scandalous truth. Simply that I was going back to school. 

A few friends were surprised but supportive. A small number were surprised but pretended to be supportive. How else do I explain being held down for half an hour by 'friends' to have my ears filled with **'testiphony's' about people who were on the job market for decades, silly people who left bad jobs without getting new ones and were still at home 'suffering' and sillier one's who left okay jobs to go back to school only to finish and end up unemployed or in low paying jobs for the rest of their miserable working lives. Okay. So many I am exaggerating a tad bit, but I really didn't appreciate such negativity from people whom I thought should know better. Guess I was a lot disappointed. 

Anyways, so after weeks of convincing people that I was still sane, while having to deal with some really intense moments of self-doubt and fear. I finally made the move. Cleaned out my desk, said my fare wells, packed up my bags and left the corporate world.  I know that a few people are still shaking their heads at me. But the truth is this, the bible says that:

"For they loved praise from men more than praise from God" John 12: 43 (NIV)

Why am I quoting this scripture? Well, because the simple truth is that I heard the Lord loud and clear, telling me exactly in which way I should go. I was convinced in my spirit that I was making the right decision, even though my flesh tended to freak out from time to time, and at more regular intervals than I am proud to admit when it got closer to the end. I heard a word, several in fact, and I would have been quite foolish to heed to the advice of men who see things from a very natural and single perspective than to listen to the instructions of Yahweh. Staying back, choosing security over fulfilment of purpose would have been most unwise indeed. 

As I sit here at my desk. I wonder as I have very often over the last few weeks, how many people out there have refused to embrace destiny and purpose because they are held back by, and tied up in the choking grasp of fear.

Within me, I shudder.

Fear is a destroyer.  Faith builds and leads, it shows us how to live and become all that we have been created to be. A lack of it for me is death.

I know that I do sound a tad bit morbid, but I have a tendency to pour out my deep reflections from time to time. Stick with me on this.

So anyways, I am a student again. For now at least. I have to say it has it's pros and it’s cons. You see. I do not know how to explain this but I shall try. There is a feeling you get when you make this transition. It starts as a slow nagging thought somewhere at the back of your mind, slowly escalates in to a slight feeling of panic, and can result in a surly disposition that can last anything from a few minutes to a few days. It comes at the end of the month, when you realize that you haven't gotten that satisfying beep that every person who owns a bank account in Nigeria knows so well. The one that tells you that you've just received some top-up of a financial nature. You all know the one now, don't pretend. The one that puts an extra spring in your step and sudden lightness in your heart. The one that a dear friend of mine jokingly refers to as the "tum-tum" sound. The almighty credit transaction alert. It is even more frustrating when you suddenly realize that this is how things are going to be in the immediate foreseeable future and that there is very little you can do about it. Bah! It is well. I will survive. 

"The way of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, which shines ever brighter until the full light of day" Proverbs 4:18 (New Living Translation)

Better things are in my future. 

I am now off to begin preparations for my next Module while nodding vigorously to my silent rendition of "Don't worry be happy"

I  may no longer be able to blog as often but I shall certainly try.

  

*Not her real name
** Negative Testimonies

Cheers

Obsessive Compulsive Bridal Disorder

                                                                    

I don't dream about my wedding. I have no fantasies of a white fluffy dress, enormous bridal party or decor color.



Until a few weeks ago, I never really thought about the fact that I never thought about these things. I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I always just assumed that I would cross that bridge when I got to it. Then one day, a couple of friends came over to mine for a visit. We had been chatting about everything and anything, when one of them remarked at some point very casually that she had been looking at samples of Wedding card invites. I blinked slowly, because as far as I knew she wasn't even in a relationship.



"Oh really?" I said. "Er, why's that? Are you helping someone out with some wedding planning?" I asked. She shrugged just as casually, "No actually. I'm planning mine". I literally fell to the floor at this point. "How exactly does that work?" I wondered out loud.



"Oh I already have my cake designer and venue picked out" My other friend added. At this point I was thinking to myself 'What?'. "Now come on" I tried to reason with them "don't you think your missing something in all this?". My first friend stared at me "What?" she asked. "A groom!" I said exasperated. "How on earth can you be planning a wedding when there's no groom? That cannot possibly be normal behavior!"



They both stared at me like I had grown a third arm. "I've had my wedding planned for ages" the first one said "Gosh Mimi how could you have never thought about yours? That is so weird" At that, they went on discussing the benefits of a simple and elegant design over something more elaborate and choose to ignore me completely for the next few minutes.

The thing is this. I suppose when I was about five or six years old, with a couple of weddings under my belt in which I featured as a flower girl, I was completely enamored as most girls that age are with the idea of wearing a huge, white princessy dress. Similar, I believed to what Cinderella wore to the ball. Brides appeared to me to be almost regal. They were treated specially and even got to wear a tiara. Yes, back then I thought it was major cool. You see a wedding dress was really just a more ornate version of my 'Church' dresses with their puffy sleeves and yards of tulle underneath. How many girls remember playing that game when you spun around as fast as you could to see how high your dress would twirl. No one? Erm, well, me neither. But see the point is this, eventually, I grew up. Then, it took my going wedding dress shopping with someone close to me some years ago to make me realize that it really was just a dress, sometimes with way too many frills, that happened to be white (or off white as the case may be).

Some people take things like planning for a wedding way to seriously in my opinion. Sometimes, they’d be way better of making plans on how to stay married as opposed to simply getting through the wedding. A while ago, I watched a special on TV about the most expensive celebrity weddings, there was lots of pomp and glamour trust. Alas, as of the time the program aired, more than 70% (I kid you not) of the couples featured had split up.



Sometimes, the wedding attire I see in Nigerian weddings amuse me no end. I am amazed that a full grown man would agree to be dressed in a “Honey Blond”-saw that in a real wedding invite shirt and, slightly comical looking lemon green bowtie. On a normal day, said heterosexual male would probably not be caught asleep partaking in this season’s color blocking trend. But somehow, it is deemed to be appropriate wedding attire.



A couple years ago, there was this weird trend where people called colors and expected their guest to show up dressed in the required hue. A woman once complained about searching for shoes and a bag to match the odd color combination chosen by the couple for a wedding she had been invited to. She seemed to be at her wits end. I don’t really blame her. Can you imagine walking into a boutique in Naija and asking the sales girl for a terracotta and blush pink colored dress. She’d probably send you half way across town to their imaginary second shop simply to spite you for wasting her not so precious time.

All this stress to show up half way through the wedding reception, because in Nigeria, no one who isn’t on the bridal train or a parent of the couple shows up for the actual marriage ceremony in the church. After dancing a few with the couple while spraying them with naira notes, drinking copious amounts of the fluids of your choice and ‘snapping’ one or two pictures. You are off home early, especially if it took place in Lagos seeing as you have to beat the traffic and all. A significant amount of your hard earned money having been spent on ‘Aso ebi’ and Tailors fees.

I apologize if I do sound a bit cynical. I enjoy a good party like anyone else. I occasionally feel the desire to mingle and socialize and have a few laughs. I just think some girls, who know themselves if they ever get round to reading this post need to chill, relax on their Obsessive Compulsive Bridal Disorder (OCBD) and actually find a man before they actually make down payments on their dream reception venue. If you are one of my (OCBD) friends and you’re reading this and you think you, may be the person I’m referring to, it’s probably not you. Then again, it just might be, I guess you’ll never really know.

So, until the next time I feel an urge to mull or rant. I leave you all in peace.

Cheers

Random Gists

For as long as I can remember, I have always intensely disliked Poetry. I only ever read it if it was really funny and witty and quite clevery written. For the most part, I just didn't get it. I also didn't get poets, why were they always so moody? How could they say so much in just a few words? and how on earth were they able to make every other word rhyme so cleverly? I was suspicious of them. Maybe I didn't like Poetry because I was so horrible at it, but then again, maybe I was so horrible at it beacuse I didn't like it. Like the chicken and Egg debate, It's one of those questions that we will never really know the answer to.

In the past couple of weeks though, something a bit strange has been going on. In my quiet time, while meditating, I found that I was expressing myself in the place of prayer through poetry. Very weird. I didn't really get it. I still don't. As I sit here typing this post, it suddenly struck me that God does indeed have a serious thing for music, so maybe that was where it's all been coming from. My spirit connecting with His and finding itself pulled in that direction. In fact, the morning after I heard an awesome sermon about understandfing my identity, I sat down and actually wrote down what my heart poured out. It honestly wasnt as bad as I feared. Maybe i'll share it on this blog one day. Maybe. I'm still having a hard time reconcilling the idea of me as a *cough* *splutter* dare I say it? Poet. We'll see how it goes.

In other news, denial is indeed a terrible thing.

The state of mind I mean. Not the river in Egypt. A few days ago, I had to wake up and face the fact that I had been in denial for a few months now about certain habits. Certain eating habits to be precise. I think that when you have your Shawarma dudes' number practically on speed dial, you can no longer claim to only indulge in the cholestorol packed albeit highly satisfying treat only occassionally. Also, a pack of Maltesers and Cake should never be substituted for dinner. Never. So last week when the zip on one of my pencil skirts split open as I was trying to put it on, I convinced myself that I had tugged on it just a bit to hard. Prior to that, when my favorite skinny jeans were just a bit, okay, I admit way too snug when I slipped into them for a movie/dinner date with friends, I told myself it must have shrunk seeing as i'd just had it washed, but on then Sunday when I realised that I could barely button up the jacket of my Suit as I prepared to rush out the door in order to make the early morning worker's prayers session, I could no longer deny the ovbious. I had gotten fat.

Like gravity and Madonna's plastic surgery it was a fact that could simply not be denied. So now, I've decided to do something about it. Starting with replacing chocolate with fruit, eating more protein and doing away with fizzy drinks altogether. I'll beat the battle of the bulge, so help me God, and a few months from now, all this will be history, even if a slightly embarrasing one. If only the prices of fruits hadn't almost doubled recently due to the fasting season. Oh well, a pineapple is still way cheaper than a chick whizz no matter which way I look at it. I can do this, Yes I can.

If however all my good intentions disappear faster than civil servants seconds after official closing hours, I suppose I could always declare a fast. Fourteen days of nothing but clear spring water ought to do the trick. No?

See you all on the Skinny(er) side of life.

Cheers

He Speaks: The Truth about Male Emotions

So today, I have another guest male blogger for the ‘He Speaks’ series, Aniekan of The Rabbit Hole of my Mind. I bumped into Aniekan at a small dinner party in a mutual friend’s house. As is usually the case where there is good food and plenty of light banter, I ended up having quite an interesting conversation with a few people, including him. During which I discovered that he had a refreshingly candid way of expressing his opinions. Upon learning that we were both bloggers, he paid a visit to mine during which he stumbled upon THIS post the result of which is his post below. I thought it was quite interesting when I read it and decided to share it with you all. Enjoy.


If there’s one thing that I’ve learnt over the last couple of months, it’s that there is always a constant need for re evaluation of who we are, of what we believe and of our goals. Without this, we would be stuck in a never ending loop of falsity and a reliance on the past, forgetting that that’s what it is THE PAST. In the quest for re evaluation, reappraisal and redefinition, one element is key- TRUTH. Truth has the power to take you from where you are, to where you were designed to be. I always tell my friends: you may not always tell the truth, but make sure you KNOW the truth. About who you are, what your weaknesses are, why you believe the things you do. As I experience life in a new gamut of complexities, I find that it becomes easier to lose yourself in the lies that the world so conveniently makes available. The Truth is our only link to reality.


Ok, now that I’m done with the premise let’s get down to the ‘koko’ of today’s post. Before I start however, let me apologize to whoever this may offend. I’m deeply sorry.


In the spirit of the truth, I have come to realize that over time, for reasons I’m yet to understand, social constructs have made us believe that the more resilient of the Homo sapiens are the males. Women have been tagged the weaker sex, largely because of their predisposition to emotions and all that. This, I think, is a warped idea. I have come to understand that regardless of where you are from, the one thing that ties humanity together is the fact that we all are emotional beings. And in a sense, those beings are the real people. Every other thing is an outfit that we put on to clothe or hide our true natures. Menfolk have constantly sought to downplay and sometime relegate their innate fragility and have rather exploited the very same thing in the opposite sex. To a large extent, it has worked! Decades have passed, and we have slowly believed the subtle notion that women are the emotional crop; that emotions are destructive, unproductive and irrelevant….RUBBISH.

You disagree? Then why are men (though not all) scared of commitment? I think it’s because commitment opens you up emotionally. Why is it that the only way to truly wound a man is to wound his pride? Why is it that no matter how hard a man pretends to be, when he’s with the woman he loves, he becomes a totally different person? Why do they cry over football matches? You have every right to hold an opposing opinion if you so desire, but in all of this, let TRUTH prevail. Even if it cannot come out of your mouth yet, develop the wonderful ability of telling yourself the truth.

As a new crop of men continue to spread like wildfire, taking over wasted lands and restoring the dignity of Nigeria and the world as a whole, as we become the upgrade for an increasingly obsolete world, let truth guide us. Earlier when I mentioned the role of truth in re evaluation and redefinition, I meant allowing the truth about our very natures to act as catalysts in upgrading us to what I have called the NIGERIAN 2.0.

With respect to emotional sensitivity, I believe that it helps you connect with everyone around you. It helps you hear what you wouldn’t with your ears, see what you couldn’t with your eyes and touch what you can’t with your hands- lives! I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that if as men, we learn to accept this truth about ourselves, we would be better boyfriends, better fathers, better friends, better leaders, better people, deeper lovers, deeper followers, deeper worshippers, deeper thinkers.


We would birth limbo the emergence of a new breed, The NIGERIAN, Version 2.0. This is especially important for the men since we have overtime conditioned ourselves to shut out that integral part of our lives. I may not be able to totally transfer all that I have in my head…no, my heart, concerning this matter. I however hope that the spirit is understood. For too long, we may have missed out on some of the most beautiful aspects of our relations with others simply because we have been wary of looking ‘weak’…


Once again, I don’t claim to have all the answers, but these are my thoughts…what are yours?

Cultural Expressionism

Earlier this year, some of my new years’ life resolutions included; to drink more water, to be more about family, and to become a lot less cynical.  Now, I can easily chug down more H20 and put up with the most grating family members, no problem. However, to let go of my cynicism on the other hand, ah, now that is a different matter all together.

It’s the young Nigerian in me you see.  Now as an individual, I really do feel like I am quite a positive person, I am a person of faith; I tend to see the glass as half full, etecera, etecera. However, in certain circumstances, it seems I become a typical Nigerian and revert to a cynical stance when presented with certain situations.

Once upon a time, if anyone had accused me of being an impetuous Nigerian, I’d have denied it vehemently. As far as I knew, I wasn’t particularly, bold, brash or aggressive, I dislike confrontation and I keep my voice down when speaking on the phone. But you see, apparently, none of these matter.  This is because it appears that, the true test of a real Nigerian lies not in his/her capability to walk into a place and immediately take charge, but in one’s ability to intrinsically react in a specific manner when confronted with certain obstacles and/or circumstances.  

Case in point.

One day, I went shopping with my mother.  Exhausted with all our mall hopping and traipsing around, we decided to stop by a little restaurant on a street corner run by some people of Middle Eastern descent. As we stood waiting for our take away order to be brought to us. One of the owners/workers walked up to me and asked:

“So where you from?”  

Me: Why?

“Oh nothing, I just ask. You African hmm?

Me: Quite possibly, where are you from?

“Syria (Or somewhere like that, can’t really remember), you Kenyan? You look like Kenyan or Ethiopia

Me: So I’ve been told, but why do you really want to know?

“I just ask, why do you not answer? You always ask question!”

I laughed, our food was brought out soon after and we paid and left

I was amused to realize that I had just acted like a typical Nigerian, answering a question with another question.  This was one stereotype I had never thought I conformed to personally, but I had just proven my self wrong. The second I found myself placed in the right situation, under the right conditions, I ‘went Nigeria’ without the slightest hesitation. I simply couldn’t help it, it was almost like a reflex action.

It led me to begin to think about why exactly we (Nigerians) behave in this peculiar manner. I imagine it has something to do with the fact that we are in general quite a suspicious bunch. The Nigerian society can be such a dog eat dog world. The economic and political terrains are rough, and this has translated into certain attitudes in our social interactions and conduct.  As a people, we have experienced and sometimes taken part in all kinds of dodgy behavior all in a bid to survive; we have seen the ugly side of humanity and know exactly what the man next to us might be very capable of doing. So, when someone comes up to you and starts to ask questions, you antenna goes up, you immediately begin to think, why does this person want the information they are trying to get out of me? What exactly is their agenda? Should I freely pass out this info  or not? We immediately begin, whether consciously or otherwise an attempt to ascertain if we should put up our protective/defensive guard or not. We do this to friends and foes alike, but more so when the person is a stranger.

We are a highly populous nation.  As in any country with a large population, competition for resources and desirable commodities is fierce.  As such we are highly competitive people who have become used to the notion of survival of the fittest. We take this aggressively competitive attitude every where with us, and use it as a strategy for survival even in circumstances where it is hardly required.

Another case in point.

When ever I find myself in a public place that requires customers to queue in order to be serviced, I inevitably end up witnessing on or two ‘shunters’ . For those who may be unaware, “shunting” is the act of jumping the line on a queue. Nigerian’s in general are serial shunters.  I really think it all comes back to our spirited nature, used to the idea that if you play ‘mugu’ (dummy) you may just find yourself being overlooked in favor of ‘sharper’ people. This is an appendage of what I like to refer to as the “Hustle or Die” mentality.  I once had a man practically dive in front of me so he could get to the ATM machine I was headed for before me. Never mind that there was no queue and we would both easily be done in a few minutes either way.  I was amused, and before I could stop it my over active imagination immediately began to conjure images of the kind of household I was sure he must have grown up in. 


One with Mama, Papa and about fifteen Pikins (children) all rushing to the table the second it was announced that dinner was ready. It was the kind of house where the kids said grace with one eye open, lest their precious pieces of meat disappear down the throats of more watchful siblings, a home where you had to fight your older brothers for the right to scrape off the bottom of the stew pot. When you grow up in that kind of house hold, you end up being the kind of adult who finds hustling as natural as breathing or taking a bath. It’s interesting really.

It may seem like I’m digressing a bit, but the family I described above is in a way an analogy for the Nigerian society. We get so used to struggling that it has become an extension of our national personality. What’s the way forward? I’m not sure I have the answer to that question. You see that really wasn’t my aim when I started this write up. I was simply trying to explain why I may find it a bit of a challenge to stop being so cynical. It’s a part of the Nigerian in me. In fact, I daresay it is a form of cultural expression, akin to tying a wrapper and speaking a traditional dialect. Neither of which I am deeply sad to say I do particularly well.

Cheers  

He Speaks: A Love Struck Point of View

I just thought i should do a little intro to this post. I know this blogger personally and can honestly say that he is one of the most intense and deepest people i know. I wasn't surprised while reading what he wrote below, because that's the kind of person i have always suspected him to be.  I was excited when he decided to share a bit of his story with me. I knew when the wooing process was going on, thanks to his frequent and delightfully emotional status updates at the time on BBM and was silently rooting for him the entire time. I was thrilled when i saw that he'd finally gotten together with his dream girl. Now, lemme step aside so you all can hear from him: 

One of the good things about having friends who write is the fact that they sometimes encourage those of us who have forgotten the joy of writing to rediscover it. A big thank you goes out to Mimi Barber for encouraging me to write again. I would also like to say that I am honored to be asked to be a guest blogger on “My World as I See It”. To understand the reason for this post, you may have to go back and read some of my older writings on My 2 Kobo (sorry Mimi, just had to plug my blog in here :-D). You see, I had a bit of a struggle a while back with the issue of loving and being loved. Let’s just say the sea of my emotions was quite turbulent at the time. All that ended when I decided to leave everything in God’s hands and let Him “take the wheel” so to speak. Several months down the line, I can confidently say I have a testimony and the woman He has prepared for me is now part and parcel of my life. In other words, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with the most amazing girl. I can’t really go into details of how I wooed her and failed miserably at first. All I can say, is when I finally “let go and let God”, things happened in a way that even I cannot really explain.

Mimi has asked me to talk about how it feels to be in love from a man’s point of view. Well, I am not sure I can actually describe the feeling. All I know is I have finally found someone who completes me, who makes every effort to understand me and is perfectly willing to take me “as is” (all major flaws included). Never mind the fact that I met her in January, 2010 and we didn’t start a relationship until May, 2011. The wait was worth it. Looking back, I realize that I was not prepared to love someone in that capacity at the time. I obviously thought I was and became very frustrated at my lack of success in wooing her in record time but now I understand why God made me wait. One can never know the true meaning of love until it is truly experienced and I must confess that I am just now learning the true meaning of the word.

The people around me tell me there’s something different in my countenance. I smile a lot more, I’m no as easily irritated as I used to be and I am generally less inclined to curse danfo drivers and okada riders on the road. I find that I am now more focused on putting things in order so that I can claim my bride as soon as possible. I am saving a lot more money and doing financial planning for two instead of one. These were things it never occurred to me to do even when I thought my last relationship would end in marriage but they come so naturally now and I surprise myself sometimes. For the first time, I have been able to discuss the issue of marriage with my father and not come away feeling like I don’t know what I’m doing which is a significant development me. In short, I am constantly seeking advice and looking for ways to better myself so I can be the man, she deserves to marry.

I know all this is not what one would expect to hear when people talk about love. I decided to deviate from most of the “mushy” stuff and talk about reality. I am doing the things any real man should do in order to be prepared to take care of the woman God has given him. Above all else, I am seeking God’s face because the woman I love has so hidden her heart in Him. I had to seek Him first to find her and now that I have, I do not intend to lose her by straying from Him. “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;” Eph 5:25. Christ loved the church unconditionally and sacrificed Himself for her. How many of us men out there would give our all for the woman we love? I intend to be an example of sacrificial love when it comes to my wife-to-be. I intend to care for her more than I care for myself. I intend to honour her above all men. In that way, I will earn her love and respect she shows me the way a real man should.

I am sure I will be posting a lot more writing about the lessons I am learning through courtship even into marriage. Incidentally, my girl also writes and we may even co-author some posts for your reading pleasure in the near future. For now, you can check her out at Hit n Run Mullings (sorry again Mimi, had to plug her too). That’s all for now. Stay blessed and thanks for stopping by.