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 

listener.

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 

future.

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 

Programme.

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.

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.

Both bound and free.

She said she was very happy, and when I looked into her eyes, I saw a twinkle there.
I almost believed her.
Then I looked again, the twinkle had dwindled.
And in its place, a hollow look,
She looked tired, worn out and sad.
And then she told me about her escape,
Again, the twinkle appeared,
And stayed as she talked about it.
In that brief moment, she was happy and free.
Then, I asked about the other,
And the gloom look reappeared.
She said that she has days of freedom, 
days of joy, days of total abandon and liberty.
When she is on threshold of her escape.
But, there are also days of enslavement, of gloom, 
of mourning for a paradise lost.
For that was what she had become: a slave to conventions.
Confined to the norms that has been imposed
And knowing that she has to stay in that lost paradise 
which has been turned into a brown iron cage.
And I told her, just like everybody else, to do the right thing
She answered, just like she does to everybody else, 
"I am both bound and freed by the right things"

Out in the wilds

The other day, when I stood in front of the house, alone, contemplating nature,

Its wonder and its peace and quite.

I heard the birds and felt the chill on my chin.

The trees in all their green splendor.

It was the promise of a dream. A dream so far away and so unreachable.

My eyes clouded and my heart was heavy.

I was at peace, both happy and sad at the time.

How could that be?

I felt both free and caged.

But, today I woke up with thoughts of the one thing that made sense,

And I know I want to go back to the front of the house, back to the dream,

Out there in the wilds.

A friend sent this to me, and I thought to share it here:

His name is Dean. He cherishes his Fridays a lot; He gets to hang out with the guys every Friday night and secondly, It’s another escape from his nagging and boring wife. 

In his own words; "I get confused sometimes on whether she’s my mother or my wife. Don’t get it twisted; I love her to pieces. It just gets complicated; like I wish we never got married…marriage has turned her into something that doesn’t amuse me. I wish she was still the adventurous, charming, high spirited lady I dated for five years".

I'm a banker.  I love my job and my job loves me, maybe its because I’m the senior banking officer. This particular morning, a lady breezed into my office. My heart raced faster because I had not sighted anything this beautiful in a long while. She wasn’t the typical slender Barbie, in fact, she was a bit chubby but her smile, cuteness and…I was tripped.

“Hi Good morning! Your ATM has swallowed my card!” She laughed, unlike the  typical customer that would ram you.

I gave her my best I'm-the-Boss laughter…

“Good morning, You know what? I’d personally make sure they get it out for you, but not today. Can you wait till Monday?” I smiled

" OK, can I just drop my number so you could call me up or just text when its ready so I don’t come twice? Please? My name is Nancy” She blinked her eyes in a funny way.

“Sure” I smiled

We exchanged numbers. What a lucky Friday! 

So it was 10:00pm and I headed to the club…as usual my friends were chilling for me. My wife had called a couple of times, I just ignored it. She knows I’m never home Friday nights.

“Look at you!” I heard someone say. I raised my head and it was the ATM lady-Nancy.

“Wow, look at you too!” I was surprised to see her but I was happy I didn’t have to wait till Monday to see her again.

“Happy Friday!” She screamed because of the noise, “Wanna dance?”

I didn’t even have the chance to answer, she was already pulled me to the dance floor. I really suck at dancing but she helped me; she was such a great dancer! I had fun! At some point we decided to go to a private area and we talked, ranging from work, business to personal life. I tried to hide my ring as much as possible, I certainly didn’t want this to end now.

“You are a really wonderful lady. You are so interesting…any guy would want to be with you all day” I said.

“I wasn’t always like this but I have learned the hard way that life is just too short to be sad” she sang

Then her phone rang…

“Hey baby! Yeah I’m at the private lounge, I’d like you to meet someone…alright boo” she talked excitedly as usual.

I was in shock until this tall handsome man walks up to her and kisses her.

“You were late!" she smiled as she lifted her face to meet his.
" Meet Dean. I met him this morning, he’s helping with your ATM I told you got swallowed and Dean, this is my B to the O-O,” she laughed “Meet my husband Kurt, we usually come here to dance every fortnight Friday; away from work, stress and kids.” 

“Wow, a pleasure” I didn't know how I said that or how I managed to shake his outstretched hand.

Then she stood now excitedly holding her husband’s arms.

“Why don’t we invite Dean for Mimi’s 16th birthday tomorrow?” Her husband said

They have kids too? I was certain they could both see me visibly shaking. How long have they been married and they look like a couple just dating!

“Silly me, please come for my second daughter’s 16th tomorrow. It would be an honor” She said as she brought out an I.V from her purse.

I began to feel so ashamed of myself…this was another guy like me, getting it right with one woman.

I collected the I.V and promised to be there.

“See you tomorrow! Have you had something to eat Kurt?” I heard her ask her husband as I watched them walk away with their hands around each other.

After they left, I kept staring at the thin air like I had been hit in the face by some unseen force. They come just to dance together every fortnight Fridays? Why didn’t I think of that! My wife Kim loves to dance…she also likes long walks, she loves to talk…she loves jazz music, there’s this vivid picture I have of me putting her hand on my chest when we danced at a jazz club on our first year anniversary…I found myself typing all the things I knew Kim loved to do on my Ipad and I realized I had denied her of all… I had helped mould her into the old woman, the nag and the bore that she had turned into.

What the hell was I doing here! I didn’t even tell my friends goodbye, I walked out of the club into my car.  Kim's call came through and I picked at first ring.

“Kim?” My heart raced

“I know you are not coming home…”

“I am, stay up so we can gist. Been a while” I decided to do everything on that list and to even add many more for the rest of my lifetime with her.

“Are you alright?” She was shocked I suppose

“And I’d like us to go for a birthday party tomorrow. I want you to meet this amazing couple”

“You sound different Dean” she said, sounding puzzled.

“Maybe I’m different” I responded softly, with a lump in my throat.

“Don’t say it! don’t say anything! I'll wait up, when you come we will gist really well” she laughed

She laughed!!! In just that laughter that I hadn’t heard in a while, she sounded like the lady I married six years ago…


That was 2 years ago, and that was the first step towards rediscovery, towards magic. 
Today when I look at my wife and see the love in her eyes for me, I'm truly humbled.
I'm not only more in love with her, I am in awe of her. She is positively glowing and everyone tells me how lovely and sexy she looks.

Dear Dalia.

One day, she strood unannounced into my office, dropped a letter on my desk and demanded that I read it.

She said she wasn't asking for my opinion since she was going to send it anyway. 
I read, and since I wasn't allowed to air my views, I kept them to myself...

Dear Dalia,
I have chosen to write you for two reasons. First, I never want you to forget or mistake my exact words. I want to leave you with something to refer to when you have one of your fits. 
Secondly, I am never going to have this conversation with you, be it on the phone, face to face or by any other means  of communication. 

I love your ex-husband who now happens to be mine. I think he is noble and loyal and good-hearted and smart and hardworking. I think he is loving, kind, generous and as sexy as hell. I know he has his defects (who doesn't?), I know that at the moment, things are not as rosy as they were in the past and that he has seen better days. However, I strongly believe that with his dedication and some encouragement, even better days are ahead. Maybe, I'm mistaken, but I'm willing to take the chance.

I understand that after almost a lifetime with him, you got tired or bored and you wanted a change. You had enough of him, you got tired of waiting for things to change and playing the blame game, so you threw him out.

Obviously, you did what you felt was right, you felt that having him around was doing you more harm than good and you chose to put him out of your live, that also I understand. I am a woman after all, and I understand that these things can happen.

What I don't understand is how a supposedly intelligent, smart and well-gifted young woman like yourself has continued to trail after something you had rejected. Even dogs do not take back their vomits. I can't figure out why after all you'd put him through with the divorce and the custody of his son, you still have your absurd jealous fits at the mention of my name.

Did you think that he was never going to find someone to love him? Do you seriously believe that he can't love someone else after you? 

For over twenty years he loved you, deeply and profoundly. You both shared your lives and all that it involves, the good times and the bad times. You both were the perfect couple. 

You know, everytime he talks about you, which are not very often, he has mostly good things to say about you. But somehow, along the line, you both made mistakes and some bad choices. You blamed him, threw him out and filed for divorce. He has dealt with and accepted your decision, he has moved on. Through it all, he has never spoken bad of you even in the midst of all your troublesome and controversial divorce, the trials and not even during the custody battle when you tried to question his love for his son. That for me speaks load of  his integrity as a man and even more of your pettiness and small-mindedness.

And now, I'm in his life. I met him after you dumped him. Yes, I have no problem in admitting that you probably had him in his best years, you were part of his youthful, vibrant and carefree days. You both share a wonderful son and that's the only thing i envy you. I dont know if I'm ever going to get even a quarter of all that you got or all that you shared.  I met him when he was depressed, sad and heavy hearted. I met him when he was practically on the floor with the weight of your rejection and weighed down by the absence of his son. Gradually, we are building a solid relationship based on friendship, love, admiration and mutual respect. 

Get a life, get busy, put the past behind you no matter how difficult it might be for you. Afterall, it was your choice to change your life, so do it. You very obviously dont want him back, but neither do you want him to be happy. Leave him alone, leave us alone. Stop using your son as weapon to hang on to something you threw away. You still are a pretty and intelligent woman and I know that if you put your mind to it, you still can achieve  a lot for yourself.

You know you can't threaten me. You and I know that I'm not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I'm making the effort to remain civil, cordial and nice because I also love your little boy and I seriously think that you're not a bad person, only that you've got your priorities badly misplaced. I dont want to be firends with you, but I don't want your son to feel like he has to choose, between you and his father. I think in your best interest and that of your son, you should make the required efforts to at least have a civilized friendly relationship with your ex-husband.

You are strong.

Strength isn't defined by the thing you can do,
but by overcoming the things you and most people believe you couldn't.
You are strong, because I know you can overcome and achieve everything you set your mind to.
Not only have you got my admiration and respect, you've also got my applause and ovation.
Nobody said its going to be easy, but you and I know that it's worth it.
It's been worth it right from the start and I believe in this team.
I´m part of your team, and I'm your cheerleader.

The call.

When I picked up my phone last night and saw her missed call, my first thought was, "what now?"
Abby was a great girl; fun loving, cheerful, hard working, but more stubborn than a mule. When she told me 2 years ago, that she was leaving her marriage of 2 years, with a little girl of a little more than a year, I couldn't think of anything to tell her.

Theirs had been a stormy relationship while they were still dating, but she always went back to him, and finally, they got married. Two months after the wedding, she called to say she was expecting, everybody was happy. It seemed to be a happy ending for them after all.

After the birth of their daughter, Rose, trouble reared its head again, and again, it was her fault, her husband said.
"She is too stubborn", he complained incessantly.
He continuously berated her for her willfulness, her unwillingness to listen to him.
Abby didn't help matters, as she went about her business paying no heed to him.
"He is too demanding and lazy", Abby whined.
What puzzled me was how they both conveniently didn't remember that they were both exactly the same way during the 3 years that their all famous courtship lasted.

When they came to me, each alone, I urged them to be patient with each other and accept each other as they both were, without trying to change each other. Obviously, they didn't heed my suggestions.
They even tried a little bit of counseling; Abby went once and didn't return.

Both of them were so dammed impatient, none wanted to cede and they both stood their grounds
and didn't want to give their marriage any chance.
Love had burned out! After their daughter's second birthday, she filed for divorce.
Two years has passed, and now, Abby is the happening girl in town. She has shed what little weight she gained with pregnancy and childbirth,and I have to admit that she looks absolutely gorgeous. I've seen her with Charles, and their little girl together, probably coming from school plays or going to church, and Charles looked so little next to her, and I don't mean in size.
She has obviously moved on and moved up in life. They are not in the same level, no not anymore.
She is reportedly seen in all the parties and she is steadily building up a reputation.

She was never shy, to begin with, but the speed with which she seems determined to climb the social ladder is rather alarming, and the easiness with which she seems to be achieving it seems even more so.

Abby didn't bat an eyelid when she non chalantly told me, that she was having the time of her life and that she isn't willing to pass on the opportunity to be happy.

Really, I couldn't say anything to that. All that was left to do was to wish her all the best, after all, I do want her to be happy.
So, be it leaving her husband, partying hard, not giving heed to my tentative advice or just breaking what was considered by the society as the norms of good behaviour, if it makes her happy... who am I to say otherwise?

S0, that evening she called to say that I shouldn´t believe all that I might hear about her or see in Facebook. I wasn´t sure why she was worried about that and I told her so. She didn´t answer. But she sounded quite tired and when I asked, she swore it was work related stress and the burden of taking care of  little Rose.

The question which I still don´t have an answer to is: Is she really happy?
It looks like it, but you never know.

That feeling again

Today, I had that feeling again. It was a mixture of stillness and euphoria.
A combination of trepidation and ecstasy,
My head sometimes seems to be playing tricks on me,
but I´m certain that there exists a reason for all that I´m getting myself involved in.
I haven't been able to shake off the huge cloud that seems to be hanging over my head.
But, after looking long enough, I've caught a glimpse of a silver lining.
The clouds are still there, but that must be the promise of rain.
It needs to rain and then the clouds will disappear.
I remember an ephemeral display of the unimaginable,
I see my sacred places become a playground for the gods.
Tomorrow appears to be perennial, but even that is an illusion.
The joke appears to be on me and today, I had that feeling again.