SET THE TREND

Just reposting a little article I did for the church magazine. Hope it hits a note somewhere...

When we hear the word success, what readily comes to mind are the attainment of financial rewards and the pinnacle of all human endeavours. To be the best in all you do, to stand out and apart from competition, to establish oneself as a force to reckon with in whatever our chosen fields, these are some of what are considered the attributes of success.

In striving to achieve success, there are a few points we need to constantly keep in mind, acronyms of the word SUCCESS.

1. Set a goal for yourself – You must have a focus, an objective, a goal before reaching for success. Success does not happen in a vacuum. What legitimate endeavour or outcome do you as an individual consider as vital to making a positive mark on society? Well, if you find that which inspires you and within which sphere you wish to Aspire for greatness, indicate what your benchmark will be and strive to surpass that benchmark. This is very integral to the attainment of success.

2. Utilise all available resources – All available resources includes your time, your money, your effort, YOU. There is no success without commensurate hard work. Therefore be willing and ready to employ all resources legitimately available to you as an individual towards the attainment of your goals.

3. Commence with Christ – Often times, we neglect to put God first in our business endeavours. We try to separate faith and life issues because we erroneously believe that the two can exist exclusive of each other. Unfortunately, faith complements life and vice versa. Most importantly, consider Psalm 127:1 – Except the Lord builds a house, they labour in vain that build it... Invite God into your business, make Him your Chairman/CEO, handover the reins to Him and kick off. Push towards your goal. With God in control, you can hardly go wrong.

4. Consider changing your modus operandi – Sometimes, we hesitate to acknowledge the fact that even with all our best efforts, in fact sometimes, IN SPITE of our best efforts, we might not immediately achieve the results we aim for. When you meet this brick wall, consider changing your modus operandi. Ask yourself, what can I do differently? Is there another approach I have not tried? Is there something I am not seeing? You might at this point want to get some form of counsel or advice but be cautious in the application of same. The important thing is to tweak your formula a little bit. Remember doing something the same way all the time and expecting different results is the first stage of madness!

5. Examine results produced – Take a critical look at the results produced. Do they address your goals? Can they meet the desired need you serve to fulfil with your efforts? If not, consider going back to step 4. Success is not static. Be willing to change and move in order to produce results that will stand the test of time.

6. Stay focused on your goal – Remember your goal. Keep your eye on the ball. The easiest way to become a “has-been”, “an also ran”, the poster boy for “near success syndrome”, is to take your eyes off the goal. Once you have your goal in mind, you will be focussed on trying to achieve it in spite of all odds. It is that determination; that focused attitude; that fighting against all odds that produces champions.

7. Stay ahead of your competition – Champions never take breaks when they seem to have achieved their goals. The truly successful people keep on pushing the envelope. Trends evolve, styles change and seasons come and go. Success is therefore never stagnant. You must continue to search out newer and better ways to continue to remain relevant, to keep ahead of the competition that will definitely play catch up games. Once your brand is recognised as always dynamic, you will ensure you remain at the top of your clients’ minds.

Once you can keep ahead of the competition, once you achieve the honour of being the one to watch and your trend becomes the trend to follow and with God by your side, then you can do ALL things.

Consequences...

Ikem looked down at the three children lying on the bed and sighed.

They looked angelic, with their limbs contorted around each other. So angelic they looked.... almost alive! He looked down at his hands and rubbed furiously as if to get some unseen stains off them. He had done what he needed to do and as far as he was concerned, the plan he had set in motion after receiving the results this morning was in progress.

Nobody, but nobody would make a fool of him, Ikem! He would rather hang a million times than allow that little snippet of femininity that called herself Dupe make him a laughing stock among his friends. He had been warned during his courtship. He was told by his friend that "ndi ofe mmanu" do not make good wives as they were born and steeped in infidelity, but he had ignored that because of love.

"Blast love!", he muttered under his breath.

The wool had truly been pulled over his eyes, what with her delectable form, her heartfelt confessions of the few misadventures she had had as a single campus girl, long before he met her. Her skills in the kitchen had further ensnared him. She had not only introduced him to the wonders of Yoruba meals, which he had hitherto thought was restricted to okro and stew with amala, but had also shown an eagerness to learn all sorts of Ibo meals. She had gone out of her way to woo his neighbor's wife in the general compound he lived in then and most weekends during their two year courtship period was spent shopping with Mama Abuchi, then coming home to prepare his meals under her supervision, and serving them with a flourish.

A little twist here, a little garnish there, topping each meal with a special touch, all of which had served to blow his mind.

He had had no foreknowledge of her bedroom skills as she was entirely strict about not crossing those lines.

"I have been there before Iyke, I do not want to go down that route again. I also know that you have had girlfriends in the past too. It is therefore nothing new to any of us!"

"I know baby, but I just want to have a feel of you, My Love. I am for real".

"I trust that you are for real, but I want to do it my way this time, My baby", she said sadly. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, "Please baby, we have only a few more months to go".

And he had fallen for her ruse, the slut!

Fallen for the pretense of not spending the nights in his house, always insisting on going back to her shared flat after each visit. Dropping by in the company of her friends or younger sister and whenever she visited alone, insisting whatever time they had together was either spent sitting out in the common yard, or with the doors and windows flung wide open.

The she-devil had also pretended to be an ardent church goer. Oh, she had covered her tracks well. Singing in the choir, attending every night vigil available, always involved in every church activity going. She had always told him that these activities served to distract her and keep her faithful to her vow to not defile herself again before marriage, while strengthening her walk with God. And he, maga that he was - he felt like conking his own skull - had encouraged her. He was not too serious about church and all that, but since her faith in God was strong, did not want to serve as the stumbling block to her progress. He was certain that her Pastor, with his clever ways and sharp suits was part of this conspiracy to rubbish him. Well, he would show them all. After today, they would tread wearily with any other Ibo man they came across. He might be an ordinary unschooled Ibo trader, but he will show them he knew what they had been up to.

========================================================================

He remembered the day he had taken her to meet his parents. She had taken part of her annual leave from the office where she worked and had duly informed her parents of their intention to travel to Nnewi to see her fiance's parents. At this point, he was virtually a member of her family so there had been little or no resistance to her announcement. As they prepared to leave, her mother had pulled her aside into the bedroom and he did not need a soothsayer to decipher what might have transpired.

He had never asked, but Dupe had come out of the room giggling and had had a secret smile on her face as he headed to her flat to drop her off, before driving back home to his lonely bachelor flat. At this time, he was already counting the days to the wedding and had hoped for some secret action out of sight of the church, family members and neighbors. He felt she would be a bit more relaxed in the village and permit him access after all, they were as good as married.

To his chagrin, as soon as they arrived at the village, she had dropped to her knees before his parents seated under the pear tree, and had remained on her knees until his mother pulled her up in a warm embrace.

For his parents who were used to the average Ibo girl standing tall and proud as an Iroko tree while greeting their elders, her humble attitude had completely disarmed them. She had immediately dropped all her township girl airs and had inquired the direction to his mother's room in a soft pidgin.

She had emerged from the room minutes later with a simple tee shirt and a wrapper knotted around her neck and proceeded to make herself useful and almost entirely indispensable throughout the entire period. Fetching water from the stream with his sisters, sweeping the entire compound at least twice a day, pounding yam cheerfully, going into the cottage farm to harvest vegetables for stew. Her extra mural lessons with Mama Abuchi had come in extra handy as even his mother was hard pressed to protest when Papa declared Dupe's Onugbu soup one of the best he had tasted in recent times.

Throughout the entire weekend, he was not sure he had set his eyes on her more than two or three times. Always firmly by his mother's side, she ate with her, slept with her, went to the stream and market with her, even whipped out some attachment from her travelling bag and did a most endearing "suku" on his mother's hair before the weekend was over.

It was indeed a frustrated Ikem that turned to her as they commenced their journey back to the city on Sunday afternoon,

"But baby, why now? You kept yourself scarce from me throughout this weekend o. I really missed you!"

" You missed me? But we were together in the whole compound now all through the weekend!"

"But I missed you My Love, I really did." He held her hand, "Look at me baby".

She turned shyly to him.

"Were you avoiding me?"

"Me? Avoid you? Why would I avoid you Baby? I was so busy with Mama and enjoying the village atmosphere. Sorry babes. At least we are together here now".

Sadly, he couldn't fault that logic and had sulked all the way back to the city. After dropping her off at her house, he had driven home, fallen into his bed fully clothed then remembering, whipped out his phone and made the all important call.

"So, Mama, what do you think of Dupe".

"Oh, she is a very nice one my son, well brought up. Her mother must have done a very good job of training her.I would have given her a 100%, but for the fact that she is Yoruba"

"But..."

"Don't worry my son, even though she is not from our tribe, I cannot subtract more than 1% because her behavior is superb. Congrats my son. In fact, my co wife only noticed the hairstyle today and said if she had known, she would have come to plait her own her too. I told her next time......"

His mind drifted as Mama rambled on and on. Somewhere in a corner of his heart, a warm fuzzy glow started and commenced spreading into the darkest reaches of his heart.

It was very important to him that she win his mother over as Mama was very particular about the choice of wife for her only son. Dupe had acted instinctively as he had purposely not given her a heads up as to how difficult his mother could be and it seemed that every act of instinct she had pulled out of her hat of tricks, had touched a positive chord in Mama.

========================================================================

He shook his head as he returned to the present. He needed a clear mind now as he had been hoodwinked for too long. In fact, while thinking and plotting his revenge for the years of subterfuge and deceit she had put him through, he had suddenly seen with clarity, almost as if it was the dawn of a new day, that all had been a clever plot to entangle him. Wooing his parents, putting on the charming girl facade, all had been a ploy to lay the perfect background to camouflage her real intentions.

Today, she would know that even though he had been apprenticed and raised in the township, he was still a warrior at heart. No one pulls the tiger by the tail, whether the tiger was dead or alive!

None of the children had stirred as he held the pillow over their faces to snuff out their lives. While they each drew their last breaths, they had attempted to struggle, but the weight of his body on each had ensured the struggle was brief, at best feeble and short lived. Like his Dupe (Confound her, the Devil's Dupe, not his), the children were heavy sleepers.

Six, Four and Two years respectively, each had traveled swiftly from sleep to death, at the hands of the man Dupe had deceived into believing he was their father.

========================================================================

As he stepped into the master bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him, he gazed upon her as she slept, breathing heavily. He reached out to touch her on the cheek, then quickly withdrew his hand as if he had been stung by bees.

No, there was no room for tenderness today. He had a task at hand, and nothing would stop him from achieving his aim. As he began to put together the instruments he needed for the task, his mind inadvertently slipped away from him and wandered back to their wedding night, their first night together as man and wife.

He had remembered Dupe standing up at their Bachelor's Eve/testimony night party and informing guests in her childish yet firm voice that they would not be receiving visitors as from 8pm the next day, as they would be involved in "serious business". The tone of voice in which she said it, the fact that all their friends knew they had committed to celibacy until after the wedding, and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes caused everyone to collapse in laughter.

He looked into the eyes of this jewel of inestimable value, and thanked God he had both found and kept her. Of a truth, it had been extremely difficult for him to stick to the celibacy vow and each time he had slipped, he had taken no chances. He had chosen girls of easy lay, with whom a bottle of stout, one mortar of nkwobi and a few well chosen flattering words were enough to spread their thighs far apart. Even then, he had been properly protected, sometimes, double and even triple glazing as he would take no chances with his Love.

Though he had had girlfriends in the past whom he had made love to without protection, not even one had ever returned to him to complain that they had fallen pregnant. To a large extent, that had raised some doubts in his mind regarding his virility, but he had always pushed that to a dark hidden corner. He had also been very careful to date sharp Ibo girls who knew how to count their days properly and his first question before he took them was always - "Are you safe?".

Even though he had encountered one or two desperadoes, whom he was sure would have tried every trick in the book to entrap him, somehow  the god of the wild oats had been on his side and there had been no extended misadventures.

On their wedding night and true to her threats, she had started hustling any stray guests out of the two bedroom flat he now occupied in a more upscale section of town as from 6.30 pm, even managing to diplomatically shoo his parents back to the hotel room she had insisted he reserve as part of the preparations for the wedding. She had adamantly refused any plans to spend the night in a hotel themselves as she had insisted her first night with him would be in the sanctity of their bedroom and on the marriage bed she had steadfastly refused to defile.

With the last guests safely out of the house by 7.30 pm, she had locked up all the doors and turned off the lights, then led him by hand into the bedroom. To his amazement, there were aromatic candles set on glass saucers at safe corners in the room and the bed was a sea of roses. The scent was almost heady and he followed her like a lamb to the slaughter as she slowly led him into the adjoining bathroom and proceeded to undress him slowly, never for once taking her eyes off his.

He was almost hypnotised by the time she led him into the bathtub and proceeded to wash down every part of his body before paying any attention to herself. He was almost light headed by the time she toweled him off and led him back into the bedroom, to the bed, their matrimonial bed.

When he awoke the next morning, he thought it had all been a pleasant dream, until he heard her voice singing merrily in the kitchen. He found a pair of boxers, donned them, and followed the sweet aroma and even sweeter voice into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her and felt safe. He was home. She was his home, his safe haven and now more than ever he mouthed a silent prayer to God for sending her his way.

As he nuzzled her neck, she giggled girlishly and immediately his senses all came alive.

"My Tigress", he whispered in her ears, "I ga egbu kwa mmadu o!"

"Me kill you? Never My Baby! It had been so long and I couldn't wait any longer. I had to make sure the wait was worth it for you."

The grin on his face almost split his cheeks into two. Yes, he had hit the mother lode indeed. A lady everywhere else, and a tigress in private. What more could he ask of? He reached around her, turned off the gas and began to lead her back into the bedroom. Breakfast could wait. The pastors could afford to wait for them at the thanksgiving service after all, it was their day. He had waited long for this and it was well worth the wait.

Right now, he needed to satiate himself!

========================================================================

Almost nine months to the date, she pushed forth a bouncing baby boy, and marital life had been bliss. They had had their ups and downs, disagreements and misunderstandings, but nothing had been strong enough to shake the foundations of their marriage. It had indeed been a wise decision to delay sex as that had ensured that they had fully understood and studied each other and the friendship they had forged during their courtship had served as a strong and essential core to their union.

In her characteristic subtle manner, Dupe had encouraged him to start a matured program  in Business Admin at the State owned University and he was currently in his third year. She was an excellent home maker, a wise wife and an extremely devoted mother to the three kids she had given him.

He was the envy of his colleagues in the market as they slowly witnessed him begin to evolve and metamorphose into a different person.

While he still hung out with them, he kept that within the reasonable hours of the day, as soon as it was 6 pm, he was rushing home to spend some time with his wife in the comfortable and welcoming atmosphere she had created. Everything was going better than he could have ever imagined until that fateful day.

His neighbor in the shop had rushed in wearing a mournful look and had shared the story of how his brother had been cuckolded by his wife in the United States of America.

"Na the akata wey him import from Nigeria come go America go dey follow all those useless small boys sotay all the children wey she born for am no be him own"

"Ah, but how he take find out na?"

"My brother, dem go do DMA test" 

"DNA". Ikem corrected softly

"Anyone wey e wan be, make e be. Na so my brother wan take kolo o!"

"So wetin him do now?"

"Wetin he go do?Tthe hospital first call the woman na, as she hear say na result them wan call for the oga, she tell them make dem call am back for morning say him dey night work. As oga begin dey sleep, she pack all her property run comot for house!"

"Na wa o, which kain winch woman be this?"

"But", interjected Ikem into the chorus of outraged cries, "wetin make the man go begin dey ask questions? Him no trust the wife ne?"

"No be that, dem been go do general test, na him doctor tell my brother say him get low sperm motority..."

"Motility", corrected Ikem quietly as slowly, his heart began to hammer in his chest, "Low Sperm Motility"

"Ehehn, na hin the Doctor come advise my brother make e bring DMA from all him pikin body because e no understand how my brother take born full house".

"Ehehn, ehehn", Ikem was almost at the edge of his seat.

"Na hin my brother come take cunny, cunny collect the DMA, na so all him yawa take gas at once o".

Ikem stood up and walked into his shop and into the inner office. As he slumped into his seat, all his inner insecurities and doubts began to rush back all at once.

He recalled a trip to the Doctor's after one "agaracha" had given him a bad case of gonorrhea. After treatment, the Doctor had called him aside and informed him that his sperm were feeble and had mentioned "Low Sperm Motility". As the Doctor had reeled off a lot of advice, he had listened half heartedly, his mind bent on finding the girl and giving her a well deserved beating.

His hands shook as he stood up, picked his jacket off the back off his seat, dressed up and drove out of the market, his mind whirling, making so may additions and subtractions, yet failing to arrive at a pleasing total. The speed at which Dupe had taken in immediately after the wedding night. The nights she spent in church supposedly praying. The brief lulls before she would take in again which he had never noticed before or counted as anything while he luxuriated in enjoying the hidden pleasures she had to offer, but which now stood out glaringly to his confused mind.

Somehow, he found himself driving towards the direction of the hospital. He parked when he arrived and requested to see the Doctor, explaining the situation to him. The Doctor called up the file and confirmed that in fact, he had been diagnosed with Grade 3 Low Sperm Motility. As the doctor tried to reassure him that anything, including the switch to boxers and the 2 year long near celibacy could have reversed or even corrected the situation, Ikem kept hitting his head on the table.

Eventually, the doctor offered him a DNA test to set his mind at ease. Ikem agreed to the test on one condition, he wanted both the test, his condition and the results kept a secret from his wife while he tried to think this one through.

It had taken the grace of God for him to remain his usual self. Sometimes, he would sink into a depressed state and even though he began to be repulsed by Dupe's touch, somehow she was always able to work him out of his state and get him in a good mood. Obtaining the samples from his kids had been a piece of cake. Because of the closeness they had enjoyed as a family, he had the samples with the doctor the very next day and then commenced the waiting period of close to three weeks as the samples had to be rushed off to England for analyses.

Yesterday, he had received a text message from the doctor to come in for a meeting and as soon as he walked in, from the look on the doctor's face, he knew his whole world was about to come crumbling down.
He had sat quietly in shock, gently rocking back and forth as the Doctor gently explained to him that the results had "excluded him as the father of the children".

The rocking swelled into violent shivering, and he felt the bile rise in his throat as he rushed to the small wash hand bowl in a corner of the Doctor's office and retched violently. He straightened up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and walked out of the hospital. He was almost at the end of the street when he realized that he had driven down. He returned, picked up his car and as he drove back home, the cold left him and an anger started building up in him. He raged and roiled and when the worst of the anger passed, began to hatch a plot to pay Dupe back for the almost nine years of deceit while wiping the spawn of the devil she had deceived him with off the face of the earth.

========================================================================

Gently in order not to wake her up, he bound her hands and feet together, trussing her up like a goat. As he placed the gag in her mouth, binding the handkerchief across the mouth to keep it tied shut, her eyes flung open.

As she looked up at him with a look of terror, silently mouthing her questions, he picked up the horse whip he had bought in the market today. She looked beyond him and saw the neatly laid out knives. As she raised her eyes pleadingly up to him, begging for a chance to speak, to ask a question and receive an answer, any answer in return, he raised the whip and brought it down with force across her back.....


========================================================================

Two hours later, the veil of madness slowly began to lift from his eyes. as blood lust rushed out of his head, the shivering returned. He looked down at her lifeless form.... and down at his blood stained hands.

Then a flashing at the corner of the dressing table caught his eye. He moved towards the table and picked up the smart phone he had placed on silent. He had intended that there would be no disruption to the execution of his plan tonight.

80 missed calls...

.... all within minutes of each other

... two numbers

... Dr Adegbola, First Trust Specialist Hospital

As he wondered what more the Doctor could want from him, a text message flashed on the screen.

.... Been trying to reach you. Please come into the hospital as quickly as you can. There was a mix up in the DNA test results sent to us...

Wiser? Who me?

So, one day into my brand New Year, I cast my mind back to February 2010, posting on my Facebook wall a day after my birthday, that I did not feel any different. I had not sprouted horns, still looked like the same old "kaka headed" me every time I took a peek. I still felt like me, nothing seemed to have changed.

Usually, my reflections and introspection come after my birthday because for me, that is when my calendar rolls around to a fresh start. It feels a bit awkward for me making resolutions in January, maybe it is just me being my usual quirky self, but soon as I have had my birthday, I feel that subconscious shifting of gears. Still the same old me, but taking a peek back at the old year, its trials, my successes, failures and near misses, what could I have done better, regrets (hardly any) and look ahead to plan MY New year better.

Turning over the page this morning, staring at myself in the mirror and having a little one on one discussion with myself, these are the points I would love to highlight as I travel down life's winding paths:

1. Never apologize for who you are: I am me. There can be only one me in the entire universe. Love me or loathe me, I am uniquely and wonderfully made. Anybody taller than me is too tall, anybody shorter than me is too short, if you are fatter than I am, you are too fat and if you are slimmer than me, you are too slim. I am the best me this universe can ever have and I stride tall because I know I am irreplaceable. God broke the mold when He made me and I am confident that He knew what He was about. My boast is in God alone and I trust that His perfect will for me will come to pass.

2. Never apologize for who you love: Love is the sweetest thing. Sometimes it creeps up on you while at other times, it rushes against you, pushes you down and sits in your face. Whichever it is, we cannot all love the same types. You might like them quiet and clean shaven, I might like them bold and hairy. If I don't knock your taste, don't knock mine. The principal thing is for your life to be filled with laughter and your heart lifted with love. No two people can replicate the same feelings in you and when you find the right person, love with all you have got.Love your family, they are a God given automatic support system. Love your kids, they will stand by you through it all. Keep in touch with your friends and learn to read between the lines, use the word "friends" sparingly and only bestow that when it has been justifiably earned.

3. Live your life with no regrets: Let every experience be a learning curve for you and learn never to regret the outcomes of any decisions you make. Consequences, whether positive or negative, are a grim part of life, as inevitable as life itself, but once the decision has been taken (by you no less), live with the consequences of your decision. Regrets are like a spoilt brat. They can be seen, felt and heard at the most inappropriate of times and in the most inappropriate of moments. Owning the consequences of your actions enable you obtain closure and take a decision to either move on, looking back only to pick out the learning points, or live with the consequences of your decision.

4. Perception is NOT reality: Never has been, never will be. If you are narrow minded enough to think of me in a particular way or herd me into a particular group because of your perceptions, then you need to expand your mind. Nothing limits growth more than being forced to act or think a certain way because society expects that from you. Explore whatever lies within you and give the world a different standard to judge people by. Explore your inherent potentials to the fullest, you are what you are and allowing what others think of you influence your decisions and actions is the fastest way to the doldrums!

5. You are never alone: No one ever walks "a road less traveled". However chequered you feel your life and experiences are, research and you will discover quite a number of people who have been down that same road as you. Therefore, you do not always have to be the strongest person in the situation, the one who can hold it all together for everyone, the one whom everyone wants to lean on. Once in a while, you do the leaning on, find a shoulder to cry on, unburden yourself, share and talk. It helps to keep you same when you realise and appreciate the fact that there is always an efficient support system, who will listen without judging, comfort without interfering and soothe without prying. You can never do it alone, so reach out and grab those arms and pour your soul out. You might be surprised to see they have been eagerly waiting for you all the while.

6. Finally, learn to recognize when it is old and move on: Some aspects of your past are best left in the past. If someone always made you feel wrong about yourself, meeting up after ten years and you are still left feeling less than a 100%, then that relationship should be left in the archives where it rightly belongs. Do not force friendships and connections. Definitely, do not go digging into your past with the intention of digging up old skeletons and resurrecting dead demons. By all means, everything deserves your best shot and always strive to get your best shot in but if it gets old and doesn't feel right, then let go and move on. Wisdom is... the principal thing


Thanks for everyone who was there with me in 2012 and utpill February 20th 2013. This is a brand new year for us, let us do it again in 2013.

P.S: Hope you like the picture. My daughter declared yesterday that I looked 18 and I could not resist putting up the picture.

P.P.S: How old am I? Well, *blushing*, *fluttering eyelashes*, 18!

Raising Eve...

Dear Lord, for the Grace to raise our daughters right, we pray!

Having raised my daughter to be a very free and open young lady, having taught her to reserve no secrets from me, to feel free to always confide in me and assuring her of repercussion free confidences (ensuring also that I stuck to my promise and never over react irrespective of how disastrous those confidences might sound), I observed with dismay, the first furtive look, the reluctance to be completely honest on an albeit simple issue!

Hm....

I carefully concealed my dismay and reserved my sleuthing for a more relaxed atmosphere. Lying down with her yesterday night and chatting about her upcoming birthday (Today), our expectations of her (heard from her yesterday, that she needs to act with "increased responsibility", I almost fell off the bed in shock at the big words), and generally, various other facts of life, the "birds and the bees" talk, I slowly shifted gears into "sharing confidences" talk.

Turns out she is being groomed on how to lie and keep secrets by the nanny, and being told that only a "small girl" runs to mummy with tales of all that happens to her. In order to get into the big leagues, she has to prove she is a big girl by not being as open or forthright as she used to be and share secrets with the nanny instead of me. Suffice it to say, I got an in depth account of all the nanny's sordid secrets yesterday night and thankfully, was able to arrest the less than a week old trend by reinforcing certain values we had come to hold dear to us both and getting her commitment that going further, we would continue to share confidences and I also gave her a stock response for when next she is approached to join the "big girls league".

When she finally fell asleep, I made a mental note to change the nanny ASAP, while also falling on my knees and begging God for the grace to continue to open my eyes, to enable me nip such incidences in the bud and handle them in a way that would ensure continued trust and confidence flows both ways. While we were talking yesterday, she asked me, So Mummy, must I tell you everything, even when I have a boyfriend? I replied Yes, why not? But Aunt says it is wrong? Don't mind Aunt  she is living in the stone ages! And we had a little giggle over that.

We all know there is no hard and fast rule to raising children. What works for one, might not work for the other and even Siamese twins would not respond to the same parenting technique. In these times also, it becomes increasingly important to keep an ever watchful eye on the kids (especially the girl child), with the growing trend of overeager "baby sitters" to lend a helping hand where we show some hesitance to be as fully involved as we ought to be. From nannies to aunties and uncles, drivers, the internet and all it's hidden promises, sattelite TV, etc.

So, raising daughters (any child at all for that matter), here are what I think are pointers to keep in mind:

1. Be as open as you can possibly be with your children. If a child is old enough to ask you a question, she is old enough to get a factual answer! You can seize the opportunity to work in the ideals, for instance, Mummy, why is so and so boy's body different to mine? (believe me, in these days, it gets easier for children to notice differences in anatomy faster), Let the child know what those differences are and be as factual as possible, using the real names: penis, vagina, breasts, buttocks and how and why the twain should never mix (at least for now). If you avoid the topic, a sexual predator would be more than willing to properly educate - or mis-educate your child depending on how you look at it!

2. Do you flog all the time, in season, out of season and without season? Really, here is the point, especially raising daughters where you need to be less quick with the rod and focus more on shaping the child. A child that has the confidence to approach you on any and every issue, even if he/she is liable and has the assurance that you will not immediately reach for the cane and start belaboring, will definitely approach you with issues first. Whatever the perceived mistake is, take a deep breath before you commencing flogging. Sit down with the child and discuss the pros and cons of their action first before you decide what punishment or reward to mete out. It might not need to be a physical whupping, you could deny the child of certain privileges  impose chores and tasks or even cancel a promised treat. That way, consequences take on deeper meanings than just turning your back, bombom or hand and receiving a thrashing.

3. Secrets, secrets, secrets... One quick way predators get our children is by encouraging them to have confidences and secrets they can both share away from others. Have you built up in your child enough trust in you to understand that they cannot have any secrets from you? If you encourage them to always share, always talk and realise that the secret they share with you is the safest as you will always protect them as a mother, that any secrets they share with an outsider will only keep them beholden to that person for as long as he/she wishes to keep them psychological prisoners, you might begin to win and retain their confidences. Again, it is important at this juncture to have an iron constitution and disposition with tons of willpower as you might indeed hear a lot of shocking secrets. If you handle it right, you have your child's confidence forever. Fly off the handle just once and go ballistic because a child has shared a secret with you and you would have lost that child's confidence and trust, possibly forever. Dialogue, in this instance, will work a long way to resolve issues, and alternative conflict resolution avenues should be properly explored to reinforce the notion of consequences without always wielding a cane.

4. Be watchful. Do you notice when your child has a strange item of clothing in their wardrobe, has a new hair clip in her hair, are there changes in attitude, in composure? Does she begin to develop an intense outpouring of emotions towards a particular person? Is she beginning to refuse instructions and rebel? Keen observation is very important, come on, this is your child and you should know him/her very well to realise when the subtle changes are beginning to creep in. Miss these changes at the nascent stage when you can step in, nip them off the bud and re-enforce your ideals and it will seem to you like your child just "changed" overnight. No one ever changes overnight. Children test limits, they push boundaries and the more leeway they get, the bolder they become until they eventually begin to manifest habits they have slowly been honing over time unbeknownst to their parents.

5. Then you need to set a good example. "Monkey see, monkey do", that is what children are all about. I have the confidence that my daughter does not lie. I have told her to always tell the truth, irregardless of the consequences, I have given her the permission to call me out in a lie and that keeps me extremely accountable. You do not want to be seen as a hypocrite by your child. "Oh, mummy says one thing and does another", is a very bad parent/child situation to ever be caught up in. The kids will lose all respect for you and begin to openly rebel, knowing full well that you do not have the moral standing to call them on any suspicious behaviorism you notice. Again, gifts can and are used by sexual predators to groom children. Can you account for every item in your child's wardrobe, food, gifts, etc? Or do you just notice a new item and close your eye to it, Ignore, Wish it away?

6. Finally and most importantly, remember to refer back to the Master from time to time. He has the blueprints of all our lives and can give you divine insights into what is going on, the grace to make timely observations, and the wisdom to handle whatever issues that might arise in a matured manner while still retaining access to your child! Without God, you will definitely go astray and miss the point. At this juncture, I would say, whatever your belief systems are, involve them in raising and bringing up your children. You can never go wrong if you do!

I know the above is not exhaustive, these are just a tip of the iceberg of tips to successfully build an open, trusting, mutual relationship with your child and ensure that you, to whom it matters most, are an integral part of her education in the school of life, and not just a casual bystander who wonders where the untoward habits were acquired from, without fully realising their advertent/inadvertent contribution to the turnout.

May God continue to help us all!

P.S:

Happy 8th birthday Valerie, you will live to fulfill destiny In Jesus name!

She - Madam The Honorable Missus.....

As he approached the estate gates, he could hear the throbbing music....

"All mah ladees, all mah ladees, kukere, kukere...."

He coasted to the gate, and with his foot on the brake pedal, placed his forehead on the steering wheel. His mind ran riot, for a moment, he could actually feel it dash to the left, to the right, run in circles, as if making a desperate bid for escape...

"Oga, I dey allright? You don open the gate for me since but e be like say I no wan enter today ba?"

He raised his head and gazed woefully at the gateman through his window, he reached for the button that wound down the glass and immediately he issued the question, wished he could drag the words back and stuff them, unspoken back into his mouth.

"Madam dey house?"

"Yays oga, shim dey po house. I no hear am for the music? Ai today na konkere, konkere".

He revved his engine and while the aboki rushed back to open the gates, resignedly began a prayer that tonight, at least, would end within minutes.

As he drove towards the house, he avoided all eye contact with his neighbors along the way. What was the point? As soon as he made eye contact with any of them, he knew they would attempt to flag him down and lodge a complaint against Madam the Honorable's thoughts, words or deeds today! Yes, of all the women in Abuja and environs, he had managed to attract the only one who could offend without opening her mouth or even taking any action whatsoever. Her thoughts were toxic - he should know, he had the misfortune of being in the direct line of fire whenever those thoughts translated into words and soon enough, action!

He glimpsed his neighbor, Chief, standing by the gate, in a pair of XXXL jersey shorts, bare chested, his bloated belly on display, attempting to catch his eye; and deftly but dutifully averted his eyes while he drove into his own compound, parked the car and switched off the ignition. He could relate with Chief's feelings, he just was not in the mood to discuss them. The last time Chief had approached "She" direct, he had gotten an impromptu shower of the dish water! How "She" managed this since they had a fully functional dishwasher was still beyond his comprehension and it took inviting Chief out to an Nkwobi joint to resolve the issue amicably!

Seven years of marriage, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven. No children yet. No peace at home. Almost immediately after the marriage, Madam had read him the riot act, informing him that "She" was now in charge and had deactivated girlfriend mode. She had activated wife mode, full steam ahead and would brook no resistance from man or beast. Even her own parents could not talk sense into her and but for his calm and non confrontational demeanor  he would have broken her neck by now.

 At this point, the blare of music from his house sounded like a rock band had somehow found it's way into the parlor and were performing as for a One Million Man strong crowd in a baseball field! The ground underneath his feet was throbbing and the air freshener on the dashboard was actually vibrating in tune to the music.

He picked up his jacket from the back of the passenger seat, snatched up his briefcase and picked up the most important parcel of all. With this, he would try to negotiate peace in his household today. As he got to the gate, he reached with his fist to bang for attention, thought the better of it and in the interest of peace, rummaged through his briefcase until he found his own set of house keys, turned the lock and stepped into....

"Bia, don't you know how to knock? Assuming I was in a compromising situation now, you would have just barged in on me without first announcing your presence right?"

Immediately, the volume of the stereo system was turned down. Since he knew it was not out of deference for the "Man of the House" returning from a hard day's job and needing some peace of mind, but rather to amplify her shrieks to the remotest corners of the estate, he simply walked past her, dropped his briefcase and jacket on the dining table, strolled into the kitchen with the peace offering, and secured himself safely in there.

He ignored the pounding and shrieking going on in the sitting room, he had thoughtfully locked himself into the kitchen, and scanned the menu. Thank the gods, today was just eba and soup. he had remembered to bring out the soup on his way to work today and was sure he could nail this in fifteen minutes flat.

Meal done, he served Madam the Honorable's portion, brought out a side plate for the peace offering, peppered chicken from Benue Kitchen, which he neatly arranged and garnished with some slices of onions and tomatoes. Quickly ate his own food from the pot while standing and listening to her ranting...

"Thank God, thank God for my christian background and upbringing if not I would have shown you pepper today. You leave me in this house with all the housework from morning to night without a housemaid and yet you expect me to take it all lying down. I don't blame you, it is not your fault. It is because I agreed to marry you and save you from that pretender, Chibuzor, if not by now, you would have been miserable. Look at it, look at what you have turned me into now, the laughing stock of the entire estate. With your small prick, you think you can intimidate me. Come out of there, come out and fight like a man! You will kill me o, today na today!

Unconcerned, even with reference to the size of his manhood, he stood by the door, biding his time. So much for giving the neighbors peace by turning down the music, now they could enjoy the blow by blow account of his faults both real and imagined. Soon, he could hear her move away from the kitchen door and acting quickly, he deftly opened the door, strode to the dining table, and dropped the food in one swell swoop.

She came rushing at him and soon as she saw what he had to offer, switched disposition 180 degrees...

"Sweetie m, I know you are a very considerate man. You remembered to buy peppered chicken today?"

He switched off, collected his scattered belongings and climbed up the stairs to the master bedroom. As he suspected, the whole place was in a mess. Bottles of products lying haphazardly all over the place, her clothes strewn from the bathroom to the bed, the wardrobe scattered and chest of drawers spilling its contents over the floor.

Without even a pause to feel annoyed, he began to pick up the clothes, straighten the bedspread, put things back in their proper place, peeping into the ensuite bathroom and finding it in a mess, he quickly began washing and wiping down. Spent, he took a shower and laid down to sleep.

He knew what was going on downstairs, she would greedily inhale the bowl of eba in one fell swoop after which she would relocate to the sitting room with the chicken and a bottle of Irish Cream. She would settle and tune into one of her favorite programs, probably the Kardashians, at a more acceptable volume, take her time with the chicken and beverage, then leisurely climb up to bed after an hour or two. As usual, plates would be scattered all over the house, TV will be left on, and he would have to get up in the middle of the night or in the early hours while preparing for work and tidy up, load the dishwasher, give the place a good mop, before rushing out to work.

As his mind drifted off to more pleasant places, he slowly fell asleep. He dreamt of Marietta's soft hands all over him, her voice crooning sweet nothings in his ear, her mouth kissing, caressing and felt his body responding. As he rolled over to make himself more comfortable, he felt actual hands on him and woke with a start to realise that "She" was already disrobing. He willed his body to stop responding, but too late. She was good at what she did and he was up and would stay up, no matter what tricks he tried.

As she mounted him, here again as in everything, her need to dominate, to take charge superceeded any desire for intimacy or mutual enjoyment and he could only lie back and watch in growing dismay while she twisted and maneuvered her way to ecstasy.

With her shuddering climax, she stepped off him, patted him on the chest..

"Why do you always just lie there and look like a dead fish? Don't you know how to move your waist? Na wa for you o! You don't make this fun at all!"

As she strode into the bathroom, he curled into a ball and all the pent up frustrations and emotions rocked through his body like a huge wave and only by dint of force did he stop himself from bawling out like a child. There was only so much a man could take.

But...

...Tomorrow at noon, his guilty pleasure, for whom he always took a straight two hours off work everyday and entire weekends at a stretch "playing golf", Marietta!

In her home, he had a voice, had an opinion, could voice out his dreams and get encouragement, advice. She was never pushy, treated him like a king. A smart and intelligent woman, she held a very important post in a Federal Parastatal and being with her always felt like home, a safe haven. She was happy enough with their arrangement and over the course of the three years their affair had lasted, had produced a bouncing baby boy!

Divorce Is Not An Option?? (DINAO)

Okay, I know this is indeed a quirky caption for a blog post, but something piqued my interest today and has been sitting in a corner of my mind, nagging the bejeezes out of me, and I guess this is as good a time as any to talk about this.

So, the major irritant? A music video on DSTV, meant to be a gospel music and titled "Praise" or some sort! Well, in this video, this lady is married to a layabout, goes out, stays out late, catches all the fun in the world while she sits at home worrying, returns home late and drunk (at this point, I am still like, "okay, nothing to kill yourself over". I have a policy of roll over and play dead, ignore him long enough and he will return to his senses, or else, two can play that game! Then, the icing on the cake, with little or no provocation, he pounces on her, and shows her exactly who the reigning Oba of Benin is: with kicks, blows, punches, etc.

Now, in spite of the constant barrage of panel beatings, she just keeps praying to the Holy Spirit to take control until one day, in the midst of her prayers, the man comes in, falls weeping at her feet, they kiss and make up and apparently, the "Holy Spirit" took control! Don't ask me how this entire plot managed to play out in under five minutes, if you have ever been forced to sit and watch Nigerian movie and music productions, you will know that they are neither limited by time, space or credibility!

Well, while watching, I was in turmoil. I was like no, this is not right! We should not allow our daughters watch this sort of video, masquerading itself as a Gospel Video. No, we must not. It is wrong on every level of wrong. No human being should believe that violence is a way of life against which positive action should not be taken by the victim. Even I, with my tolerance of talking out issues, will only allow for one mistake where Violence is concerned. We should also not allow our sons watch that type of video as it might warp their perspective into believing that if they raise their hands against a woman, it is not of their doing, it is the result of an "evil spirit" at work within them, and they need a prayerful wife who can pray down the intervention of the "holy spirit", to save them.

Puhleeze!

If you raise your hands against a woman, even to push a finger against her head, YOU are an evil spirit and need to be banished off the face of the earth. I have no breath to waste on wife beaters and this post is not to or about them!

Now, dear sisters, please, your self worth first before any other. A man who raises a hand against you has little or no value for you as a human being first, as an adult individual second and finally, as a help meet. I allow for the fact that there might come an instance where he will shove or push you, maybe even deal a slap, sincerely, we are all human. Sit him down if you must and truly, really love him and talk out these issues. Agree it is not going to happen again and work out how your relationship will proceed moving forward. The next time he even looks like he will raise a hand against you, WALK, keep walking and don't stop walking until you get to a place of safety.

Do not allow yourself to be indoctrinated into believing that a violent man can be saved with myriads of prayers and interceding to the "Holy Spirit" to intervene on your behalf while you daily face a barrage of fists. You might be in the mood of prayer the day he deals the killing blow. If you truly love the man, separate from him and pray for him from a distance. Remove yourself from the direct line of fire. Listen, there is nothing to be gained by staying and putting yourself at risk daily in order to prove the world that you are a virtuous woman. Come the day when you lose your life over the worthless bloke, and the reason why you irritated him so much and he couldn't stand the sight of you, will move in in less than a month, throw out your clothes and maltreat the children you left behind.

Seriously, I have gone through the bible trying to find an instance where a man actually raised his hand against a woman and found none! If you die trying to be a good wife, you just might have committed suicide, because I am convinced of one thing, it is not among the ten commandments that thou shalt not strive to preserve thy life! It is not. In fact 3John 1:2 wishes that we PROSPER and be in GOOD HEALTH even as our SOUL PROSPERS. You can not prosper when you are constantly thinking up (and failing) at strategies to keep the lion of the house at bay! You can not be in good health when you are constantly "falling off a bike", "falling off an okada", "running into a stationary trailer" (heck, you even cast aspersions on your coordination as a human being just to make excuses for a wife beater), your soul can not prosper when every day, rather than pray for spiritual growth, you are asking for the "Holy Spirit" to intervene and stop the man from hitting you.

In fact, in Luke 20: 27-38, we are told categorically that there is no marriage in heaven. Why then Sisters, do we risk our lives to cling tenaciously to a marriage that will not add any value to our afterlife, but might in fact act as a drag, preventing you from achieving your ultimate destination? If you seriously believe Divorce Is Not an Option, then separate for a while. Separate, until you have proof that he has come to his senses. whatever you do, where violence is involved, be extremely selfish. Think YOU, YOU, YOU! YOU first! So many battered women who ran and left their children are today alive, healthy, happy and reunited with their children. I might invite one or two that I know personally to share their stories on this blog if they will. I am also a survivor! Maybe one day, my story will out! Maybe....

In closing, a little anecdote:

We have this small gathering of women - single, married, widowed, the only criteria is to love the Lord -, we meet the first Sunday of every month to fast and pray. Well one day, at a meeting that held in my house, I presented the case of a battered young lady who wanted us to pray with her. Without missing a beat and almost unanimously, the other sisters retorted - "Let her leave the husband first, then we will pray. She can't be enjoying the beating and asking us to pray for her".

Suffice it to say, we did not pray for her and her issue was never mentioned again since she so obviously proved to us all within a matter of days that she was indeed "enjoying the beating".

Ciao folks!

Love stings

Fiona twirled on the spot, admiring her figure from every angle in the mirror. Smooth face, no blemishes and any that threatened to mar the gorgeous landscape had been heavily smothered under a smooth base of foundation. Luscious well formed lips with a distinct cupid's bow and that too, was so obviously penned in by nature. Just a smudge of lip gloss was enough to clearly accentuate the gifts nature had so bountifully endowed. Long stretchy neck like a gazelle's, the twin mounds on her chest were prominent enough to cause a commotion as they led in the beauty behind.

She twirled once again and observed her "bootilicious" behind. Her major complaint about her body was a slight, almost unnoticeable bulge in her underbelly and even though she had been assured several times by her friends that this feature helped to enhance the altogether "Marilyn-Monroesque" smoky nature of her special brand of sexiness, her candid belief was that it was the only noticeable flaw on the otherwise perfect master piece that was FIONA!

An onlooker would have been extremely bewildered at what followed next, but to all those who knew Fiona, it was all part of what she called her "Project 10 0ver 10 appeal". She strutted up to the mirror, and strutted back down the length of her room. Up down, up down, up down - each time changing one little thing about the way moved, the way her waist pivoted on her hips, a little jiggle here, a little bounce there, the final stance upon getting back to the mirror: striving to achieve that "I am sexy, I know it and you do too, I just can't help it, I was born this way, eat your hearts out and die ladies" casualness in her gait and stance.

Satisfied that she had uncovered the best pose to unleash 360 degrees of fabulousity upon an unsuspecting world, she proceeded to examine every possible facial gesture known to man in her mirror. The "pouty, little girl" look, the "bewildered, can't help myself, need your strong arms to lift this little handkerchief off the floor" gaze,  the "OMG, you just scared pretty ol' me" look, the "gosh, you are such a funny young man, how am I so blest" look; and a whole range of others.

Satisfied, Fiona heaved a huge sigh of relief, she had all that she needed to face the world in pursuit of her dreams today and the most important accessory of all, was lying impatiently on the bed, a bit amused at the extent of care being put into a short trip down the street to pick up a tin of sardine and loaf of bread from the corner retailer, a bit exasperated that all that effort was in her own candid opinion, a collosal waste: the obligatory Plain Jane that served to heighten Fiona's almost ethereal presence.

"Abeg na", Naomi burst forth. "Hunger wan bend my mouth here, no be only to go buy sardine and bread? Whish kain levels be dis wan again?"

"I have told you several times before Naomi, that every step you take outside that door is an opportunity to present yourself well. A perfect packaging is an indication that what lies underneath can fulfill hidden promises", Fiona replied in a well modulated, perfectly toned, flawless, near American accent, the result of years of careful effort.

"Abegi, leave wetin dem write for motor enter motor joor" Naomi retorted as she stormed outside to wait. From experience, she knew there was another 5 to 10 minute wait before Her Royal Majesty unleashed herself on an unsuspecting world....

One Day For Love...

... As the excitement mounts, the atmosphere in the two camps are of completely different natures. 

Married or monogamous ladies are already all tensed up, waiting feverishly for the commencement of wooing and loving from the eve of the D-Day! Even those with Aristos or a string of multiple lovers are either preparing their excuses for why that date will not be exclusive for one fella, or playing the one up game. Whom ever toasts the hardest, pursues the keenest and spends the freest, gets to snag the prize. The others have to make do with whatever cleverly packaged excuse her agile mind can come up with.

Interestingly, for the men, the range of emotions run the gamut of; I don't believe in Valentine, have never celebrated it (yeah right, he is wriggling out of spending time with you...the worm), to stretching themselves thin, trying to be in a million and one places at the same time (the love rat). Apologies to the steady and steadfast men, because you guys are few and far between, you deserve an honorable mention - at least - from me.

Truth be told, the concept of "One Day for Love", is a bit wearing and sometimes I wonder, what happens on the other 364 days of the year?

Can Madam now comfortably parade the house from morning to night with her "lappa" knotted across her chest, uncombed hair, untrimmed armpits and foul smelling dragon breath, only to suddenly ginger her swagga on the 13th preparatory to looking good enough for Oga to throw a perfunctory wham-bam her way on the 14th? After maybe taking her to go and eat fish at the nearest bush bar (probably the first and only trip of it's kind for the year)? Can that be love?

Can Oga revert back to being a boring, brutish bully with little or no regards for the lady in his life beyond demanding ready meals, even readier sex (at the spoken command - "come here", with an obligatory fumble here, a grope there, deposit, withdraw, and that's all folks), a quiet house, even more quiet almost unseen kids with the bulk of his affection given to the chicks out there who make the 24/7 efforts to remain in the game and hold their own?

At the risk of trying to flog life into a long dead horse, I honestly think the One Day of Love is highly overrated. No, I do not believe you should not make the day special if you are so inclined. Some of my memories of the best valentine's ever has been a quick trip to the nearest Mr. Bigg's (On a bike no less), by the bloke in question, chillaxing on the rug in front of the TV and just eating meat pie, or drinking coke, jisting (might not even be love jist, maybe politics, maybe office jist), but just being there and enjoying each other's company. If you have the means to go all out with the flowers, the chocolates, the high end perfumes, wristwatches, jewelleries, cars, trips abroad, etc, then by all means do. If your love is defined by material means, by all means, get your rocks on or off as the case may be.

I however, am more concerned with the other 364 days of the year. Are they not additional avenues to show and magnify your love? If one day can be so packed full of glitter and glamour that it sticks, imagine how 364 days of constantly validating your love through the little gestures that make life worthwhile would continue to blow each other's minds. Someone once asked me: "How can I show my wife love when I don't have money"? Sadly, that is what the world has turned out to be.

My best memories of loving moments, your guess is as good as mine how much was involved:

-Someone climbed a mango tree, plucked down a piece of fruit and drew the classic hearts and arrows with both names inscribed on it. Suffice it to say that the babe graduated from school with that prized possession still in her tight clutches!

-Another black like half past midnight guy, dating a yellow sisi, bought a bottle of coke and fanta and they served as part of the decorations in his home! Once you stepped in and saw the decades old Coke and Fanta which you could only touch at risk to your life, you knew what was on.

-A phone call at about 1 am, after you had spent the past few hours in each other's company to say, "Baby, I miss you die! Wish I were there or you were here!"

-Returning from work with Chicken Suya for madam, cookies for the children. Something or anything at all that says, while I was at work today, I thought of you.

The possibilities to show love daily are endless, and on a million and one of them, you spend little or nothing. gross your kids out with the PDA around them. gross your parents out, gross your neighbors out! I am not saying go the full shebang outdoors, No! A hug here, a peck there. A pat on the behind, exchange of fond looks. A secret smile that speaks volumes to both of you, secret words, pet names - you don't need February the 14th to do all these. they also do not cost a dime to execute - go figure!

I recall walking past a husband and wife on a work day, in a popular Abuja eatery, jisting and sharing lunch like they were tight, old time friends. I recall the couple for whom a day apart was like heart surgery, they had to be on phone 24/7 or at least every spare minute they could afford. I know a couple who are always in the clubs together, getting their dance on, always going out together to the bush bars, the classy restaurants, taking trips and breaks abroad. Heck, I once had a driver who would take permission, stop by the roadside and buy a pack of guinea fowl eggs for the wife because "Madam, this thing dey drive my wife crazy"!

Methinks love is found in the littlest gestures of life, the commitment to what keeps the other happy, the desire to please and be pleased, the pleasure found in each other's company, the everyday things we do, reflect the love in our hearts. If you truly and genuinely love, then everyday is an expression of the outpouring of the emotions you feel within. Another Val's day rolls by, and you do not feel the need to impress, to put on a show for cynical mockers (they know what you are on about, they know there is no love lost, but if you insist on putting on a show, they are game too). You know you love her deeply and she loves you too. You can escape the trap of the highly commercialized "valentinisation" of the entire universe, because you do not need one day of the year to send out a card, an SMS, make a phone call to say I love you! You don't need corny symbols to hold her, look deeply into her eyes and tell her how dizzy you are just gazing at her, because she makes your world go round.

Sincerely, I am not going to go the "touch a life" route! If you are not already routinely touching lives, then you need a quick trip down to Kuje prisons, before Rev. King is executed, for serious deliverance. If by all means, you want to make your Val's day a noble one by visiting orphanages, prisons, hospitals, etc, then more kudos to you. We however, all know that the family is the nucleus of the society. So many broken homes, marriages, relationships, so much baggage, so many scars! If we heal our homes, we can so easily begin to make steps towards healing our nation, our world!

So, inject all those little tiny things that make the world go round into your daily life with your loved ones! Show them you love them, don't mind the commercial monsters of this world, God has not set aside "One Day for Love". Make every day val's day in your life!

P.S: That is my Vallie's birthday, so we will be popping champagne and cutting up decadent Malteser's cake, family members only! :-)

If you had any plans on serenading me, please bring it on! I do know of one or two cars whose general demeanor would be greatly improved by me, sitting at the wheels!

Ciao'

.....AND AWAY WE GO!

So, pursuant to the promise I have made to myself to log in and blog daily, here I am today.

Eventually, I hope to find the grace to recall the short stories I had been saving to my tablet and which have all been irretrievably lost. I will try, might not be like the originals would have been, but in addition to talking serious issues, i hope to pursue my first love, which is African Folk Stories for Children, in a more contemporary setting!

 I hope it would give a lot of fun and delight to those who sat round their parents and grandparents feet (like I did) and listened in rapt awe while these stories were being recounted. With slight variations from narrator to narrator, but still maintaining the same central theme. i also hope that for those with Nigerian backgrounds, it would also be some fun trying to match contemporary to folk lore.

I must confess that in both writing and blogging, I am still finding my feet, but I love to talk! That is and has always been my passion! Speak, talk, relate, rub minds - it gives me an almost orgasmiac delight when I meet like minds and can spend hours just talking, listening, sharing ideas - BLISS! I like to say that my weight is all unevenly distributed: 100kg in the mouth and lips region and my body has the remaining 10kg (forsooth thee, did you think I would actually tell my real weight here)? Bottom Line - I love to talk! Hope that can transit easily and smoothly to writing!

It will not be all short stories, I also like to talk about issues happening around me, in my immediate environment and in the world at large. I give my unique perspective and invite others to share theirs too. That way, we can collectively make our world a better, cleaner, friendlier place for everyone!

So, daily, I will check in and blog about what matters most to me, whatever catches my attention for the day, I will pour out here. Maybe once a week, or once a month, I will post one of my short stories and we can all have fun taking in questions, comments, advice, etc on how to make both the blog and the world a better place.

Maybe I am no longer a blogging virgin, but I am still learning the ropes!

So, see you all daily and please bring on the jists!