Thursday, 20 September 2012

The woman from Nigeria.

I read this somewhere and I just can´t help but share...

The Nigeria woman is extraordinary. She pops up at every equation that capture 

Nigeria. She is the trader on the street, the tiller of the ground and the keeper 

of the home - She is the economic powerhouse of the nation. She is the mother and at 

the same time, father to her children, a position some men have voluntarily if 

unknowingly relinquished. She combines a full time job with mothering Four children, 

wife to a demanding husband, holding down a major role in church and studying for a 

PhD in Applied Science. She is the multi-tasker no one expects to complain.

Without the Nigerian woman, there would be no Nigeria. She is the spine of the nation, 

by virtue of being the spine of her husband, the spine of her children and the spine of 

the extended family. She stays up to encourage her studying children whilst her husband 

is fast asleep. She still has to rise long before dawn to dawn to prepare food and plan 

the day. She is indefatigable, indestructible and indescribable.

She accepts her husband´s indiscretions with dignity and takes his intransigency on the 

chin. She deals with her societal-imposed minority role with utmost diplomacy. She 

smiles whilst suffering. She executes her roles with the utmost diligence.

The Nigerian woman is the ultimate homebuilder, engineer, medical personnel, 

arbitrator between children and father, advocate on behalf of the children, human 

resource specialist, Operations Manager, the Prime Minister of the family government, 

the teacher of manners and etiquette, the prayer intercessor and the attentive 


She comes in every shade of colour, shape and style. There are eight types of Nigerian 

women: the dark-skinned, the slim-figured, the amply-shaped, the short and the tall, 

the effizy and the traditional.

The Nigerian woman is stylish. Whatever her age; style and looking good are indelibly 

programmed into DNA. She relishes the beauty of her naturally tanned skin, full lips and 

her thick strong and healthy hair. She is effervescent and drop-dead gorgeous. She 

beleives that God spent extra time on her and this makes her unrepentantly confident. 

She is confident of natural allure, allure, confident of her body and confident of the 


As a girl-child, she already has a routine of making her hair every week. She is big time 

into cleanliness and may even shower twice a day. She will speak with boldness and will 

not be led astray by anyone. 

Between 18 to early twenties, she knows how to style her hair into different looks on a 

daily basis. She is either in the last lap of university or doing her National service. It is 

also possible that she is working in an oil company, a bank or even pursuing her Master´s 


At mid-twenties, she has a clear mental plan of her future. She knows what she wants, 

the type of man that will complement her plan for success in life. Except she chooses to 

be deceived, an average Nigerian woman in her twenties is too mentally and 

emeotionally sophisticated to fall for any silly tricks.

In her 30s, the Nigerian woman is an established businesswoman who knows every nook 

and cranny of Naples, Dubai, Milan and the outback of Guangzhou. Whether she has a 

shop in downtown Isale-Eko or the upmarket Isaac John Street in GRA, Ikeja, she is 

financially savy, hardworking and consistent.

Nowadays, there is no industry or vocation in which the Nigerian woman is not actively 

involved. The other day, I met a lady who says she is landscape gardener. There are also 

women motor mechanics, photographers and Danfo bus drivers.

Nigerian women do not settle for the dictate that a girl´s fame and fortune depends on 

her beauty, they will rather combine beauty with brain and brawn. At a perriod in 2006, 

the Director-General of the Nigerian Stock Exchange, the Foreign Minister, the Finance 

Minister and the head of the Food and Drugs Agency in Nigeria were all women.

The Nigerian woman is also in many instances, the unassuming quiet woman at home, the 

one who sold puff-puff and carried load on her head amongst other things to send her 

children to school. She is the one who plays second fiddle to her husband and subjugates 

her personal ambitions to that of her husband´s. The Nigerian woman is still sadly 

repressed in many of our cultures and traditions, but the future is hers. I have no doubt 

that the Nigerian woman is ably qualified for a Nobel Prize in longsuffering, sheer 

industry and nation building.

For her strenght, indestructibility, dignity and her contributions to nation-building, the 

Nigerian woman deservedly is a wonder of Nigeria, if not a wonder of the world.

Sunday, 16 September 2012

One of those days.

My friend, Ally, just called to give me the news that she's pregnant.  Before that I had recieved two SMS informing me that two of our young ladies in church had just given birth. My kid sister is due to have her baby in two weeks, making me an aunt for the sixth time.

All around me, all I see is pregnant women and young mothers. Everywhere I turn, someone is either pregnant or just had a baby.
Of course, I'm happy for them. Genuinely happy.
The arrival of a new baby is always a joy but it is also a constant reminder of something that I really want and haven't been able to receive.
It was my eighth years marriage anniversary on Tuesday.  Years of going from one specialist to another,
After 3 failed IVFs and several hormonal treatments, I decided to take a break.
There are times when I feel like I've failed at something.
Dont get me wrong, I consider myself a fairly successful career woman. I work directly with the women group in my church and I derive so much joy in being able to help a lot of  people in so many little ways.
I have a good and full life, and I feel loved by the people around me. But today is one of those days, where I craze the cuddle of my own child.
My husband is a good man, but he's also the not very communicative type, and there are times, it feels like he blames me, but since he doesn't talk much, I have no way of knowing. He has  however pointed out that he doesnt want to be alone, nor have kids at forty-something... I'm still not sure where that leaves me.
I have faith and doctors have said that there was nothing wrong with me.
Soon, I believe, soon.

Dancing in the rain.

I thought I had learnt to dance in the rain,
but these days, I keep missing my step, I keep falling.
I'm wet to my skin, I'm cold, and I've got mud everywhere.
I know that I must keep at it.
I must keep dancing, till the rain stops.
I must keep tripping and falling and rising up until the sun shyly comes up.
I know the rules, and I'm trying very hard.
But still, I keep missing my steps, I keep falling.
Everyone thinks I dance very well,
But, I'm cold and shivering,
And I silently pray that the sun will hurry up.
Maybe, then I can curl up in my lover's arm and sleep.