Monday 24 September 2012

ME PARY

Disclaimer

Any resemblance of characters in my blog to real life, whether of persons, objects, or circumstances are purely coincidental. Also, try as much as you can not to use contents of this blog to judge my persona, well its not like i care anyway. For the sake of your psychological health, take everytthing on face value. This is because alot of crazy things may be spewed here that can turn even the most stoic into locos and may even depress some -__- . You should just enjoy the read and you could even pick up a few things that will help. *that being detrimental to you ofcourse*. The lot of sane things here will most likely to have been written by Jemimah. However, any inhibition you may have as regards the use of profanity in this blog is purely the fault of Nikky. She is my co-blogger and as others may well know "my alter-ego". Therefore any and all complaints should be forwarded to her desk. And to tell you the truth, she usually doesn't give a hoot. So you might like to do yourself a favour and ignore anything that may offend you.


ME PARTY

I was always one to have a party everytime my birthday came along. This has been so since forever, or atleast for as long as i can remember. It was probably a benefit i enjoyed being the last child and having the last birthday in the year. This meant that everyone in the house looked forward to my birthdays as a cure to their boredom. And i made sure never to disappoint them, so I would pester my mother till she gets me a beautiful birthday dress. From the little i remember of Papito, i know he usually sent me a gift from whatever part of the country/world that he was at.

I grew up being the most celebrated birthday celebrant in the house. And when i went to secondary school, that didn't stop. Every visiting day following my birthday came with a party. The host of my family all came to my school on that day bearing so many different cuisines, drinks, canopies and mats. I would rally all my friends to our tent and we will party. Even after secondary school, i made it mandatory to celebrate every birthday of mine or atleast mark it in some way if i am too preoccupied to have a party.

It got to a point where i started to fund my birthdays alone. I was thrilled about that because that meant i was independent enough to do it without Momma pitching in some funds for it. But later that thrill began to dwindle. This i noticed for a certain two years ago. I had just started working and i was feeling like the ideal "big girl", but that status didn't last long. I realized i was spending almost more than the worth of 2 months salary for a birthday party. Last year was the eye opener, for my birthday, i had two parties, one was a buffet at my house and another party for my friends the next day. When the cobwebs had cleared from my eyes after the binge weekend, i noticed my account was bleeding red, it was then i knew i had to draw a line.

With my birthday soon coming around this year, i informed my very close friends that i had no intention of celebrating my birthday this year and they went berserk. They protested vehemently stating that my decision was irrational and outright mean! Hmmmmm, now that got me wavering,
"to do" for the sake of my friends, or "not to do" for my own sake and my sanity?

I came to the conclusion, i was gonna do my birthday alone. After all it was just i who was born on that day, thus i am at liberty to decide just how i wanna mark it. I intend to go shopping for the most beautiful outfit, don it and spend the day alone in the cinema, watching movies and indulging in all types of food that i can eat that day. After that, i will buy supplies and then rally the support of my friends and together we will go to an orphanage and bless the kids with the supplies. At the end i could appreciate my friends for their support by taking them all out for dinner.

Now that would be a worthwhile birthday celebration! I do hope it goes well, so i can regale you with tales after.

Ciao.

Saturday 22 September 2012

YOUWIN 2! FOR WOMEN

YOUWIN! 2 - YOUTH ENTERPRISE WITH INNOVATION IN NIGERIA.


The Coordinating Minister for the Economy and Honourable Minister of Finance Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, along side, The Honourable Minister, Ministry of Women Affairs and social Development, Hajia Zainab Maina (MFR, FCIA) and the Honourable Minister, Ministry of Information Technology Omobola Johnson invites Nigerian women from 18 - 45years with innovative business proposals to apply for Federal Government Grants. You should register online at www.youwin.org.ng for a chance to win N1M - N10M each under the FGN/Youth Enterprises with innovation in Nigeria 2nd Edition (YouWin women programme) from 3rd september- 14th October 2012. Please share this news with everyone. Let's help our female youths to join in weaving the fabric for Nigeria's development! Resourceful women, please apply and win enough to start or expand your business + be an employer of labour. Thank you...

Wednesday 19 September 2012

You Lazy (Intellectual) African Scum!

I have a rather interesting read for you all. I wonder what your thought about it would be. But i really do hope it touches you like it did me and spurs us all towards progressive thinking. Enjoy the read.

DISCLAIMER
This is not my publication, it was culled from an email i received. But i do think it relates an awful lot to our country Nigeria. If the words/slander of the the white man annoy you while you read, please i urge you to take it in good faith. for only then will we be ready to stand up for Nigeria, for Africa and for the whole of the third world.

You Lazy (Intellectual) African Scum!

Posted on January 18, 2012 | 738 …



They call the Third World the lazy man’s purview; the sluggishly slothful and languorous prefecture. In this realm people are sleepy, dreamy, torpid, lethargic, and therefore indigent—totally penniless, needy, destitute, poverty-stricken, disfavored, and impoverished. In this demesne, as they call it, there are hardly any discoveries, inventions, and innovations. Africa is the trailblazer. Some still call it “the dark continent” for the light that flickers under the tunnel is not that of hope, but an approaching train. And because countless keep waiting in the way of the train, millions die and many more remain decapitated by the day.

“It’s amazing how you all sit there and watch yourselves die,” the man next to me said. “Get up and do something about it.”

Brawny, fully bald-headed, with intense, steely eyes, he was as cold as they come. When I first discovered I was going to spend my New Year’s Eve next to him on a non-stop JetBlue flight from Los Angeles to Boston I was angst-ridden. I associate marble-shaven Caucasians with iconoclastic skin-heads, most of who are racist.

“My name is Walter,” he extended his hand as soon as I settled in my seat.

I told him mine with a precautious smile.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Zambia.”

“Zambia!” he exclaimed, “Kaunda’s country.”

“Yes,” I said, “Now Sata’s.”

“But of course,” he responded. “You just elected King Cobra as your president.”

My face lit up at the mention of Sata’s moniker. Walter smiled, and in those cold eyes I saw an amenable fellow, one of those American highbrows who shuttle between Africa and the U.S.

“I spent three years in Zambia in the 1980s,” he continued. “I wined and dined with Luke Mwananshiku, Willa Mungomba, Dr. Siteke Mwale, and many other highly intelligent Zambians.” He lowered his voice. “I was part of the IMF group that came to rip you guys off.” He smirked. “Your government put me in a million dollar mansion overlooking a shanty called Kalingalinga. From my patio I saw it all—the rich and the poor, the ailing, the dead, and the healthy.”

“Are you still with the IMF?” I asked.

“I have since moved to yet another group with similar intentions. In the next few months my colleagues and I will be in Lusaka to hypnotize the cobra. I work for the broker that has acquired a chunk of your debt. Your government owes not the World Bank, but us millions of dollars. We’ll be in Lusaka to offer your president a couple of millions and fly back with a check twenty times greater.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. “King Cobra is incorruptible. He is …”

He was laughing. “Says who? Give me an African president, just one, who has not fallen for the carrot and stick.”

Quett Masire’s name popped up.

“Oh, him, well, we never got to him because he turned down the IMF and the World Bank. It was perhaps the smartest thing for him to do.”

At midnight we were airborne. The captain wished us a happy 2012 and urged us to watch the fireworks across Los Angeles.

“Isn’t that beautiful,” Walter said looking down.

From my middle seat, I took a glance and nodded admirably.

“That’s white man’s country,” he said. “We came here on Mayflower and turned Indian land into a paradise and now the most powerful nation on earth. We discovered the bulb, and built this aircraft to fly us to pleasure resorts like Lake Zambia.”

I grinned. “There is no Lake Zambia.”

He curled his lips into a smug smile. “That’s what we call your country. You guys are as stagnant as the water in the lake. We come in with our large boats and fish your minerals and your wildlife and leave morsels—crumbs. That’s your staple food, crumbs. That corn-meal you eat, that’s crumbs, the small Tilapia fish you call Kapenta is crumbs. We the Bwanas (whites) take the cat fish. I am the Bwana and you are the Muntu. I get what I want and you get what you deserve, crumbs. That’s what lazy people get—Zambians, Africans, the entire Third World.”

The smile vanished from my face.

“I see you are getting pissed off,” Walter said and lowered his voice. “You are thinking this Bwana is a racist. That’s how most Zambians respond when I tell them the truth. They go ballistic. Okay. Let’s for a moment put our skin pigmentations, this black and white crap, aside. Tell me, my friend, what is the difference between you and me?”

“There’s no difference.”

“Absolutely none,” he exclaimed. “Scientists in the Human Genome Project have proved that. It took them thirteen years to determine the complete sequence of the three billion DNA subunits. After they

were all done it was clear that 99.9% nucleotide bases were exactly the same in you and me. We are the same people. All white, Asian, Latino, and black people on this aircraft are the same.”

I gladly nodded.

“And yet I feel superior,” he smiled fatalistically. “Every white person on this plane feels superior to a black person. The white guy who picks up garbage, the homeless white trash on drugs, feels superior to you no matter his status or education. I can pick up a nincompoop from the New York streets, clean him up, and take him to Lusaka and you all be crowding around him chanting muzungu, muzungu and yet he’s a riffraff. Tell me why my angry friend.”

For a moment I was wordless.

“Please don’t blame it on slavery like the African Americans do, or colonialism, or some psychological impact or some kind of stigmatization. And don’t give me the brainwash poppycock. Give me a better answer.”

I was thinking.

He continued. “Excuse what I am about to say. Please do not take offense.”

I felt a slap of blood rush to my head and prepared for the worst.

“You my friend flying with me and all your kind are lazy,” he said. “When you rest your head on the pillow you don’t dream big. You and other so-called African intellectuals are damn lazy, each one of you. It is you, and not those poor starving people, who is the reason Africa is in such a deplorable state.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” I protested.

He was implacable. “Oh yes it is and I will say it again, you are lazy. Poor and uneducated Africans are the most hardworking people on earth. I saw them in the Lusaka markets and on the street selling merchandise. I saw them in villages toiling away. I saw women on Kafue Road crushing stones for sell and I wept. I said to myself where are the Zambian intellectuals? Are the Zambian engineers so imperceptive they cannot invent a simple stone crusher, or a simple water filter to purify well water for those poor villagers? Are you telling me that after thirty-seven years of independence your university school of engineering has not produced a scientist or an engineer who can make simple small machines for mass use? What is the school there for?”

I held my breath.

“Do you know where I found your intellectuals? They were in bars quaffing. They were at the Lusaka Golf Club, Lusaka Central Club, Lusaka Playhouse, and Lusaka Flying Club. I saw with my own eyes a bunch of alcoholic graduates. Zambian intellectuals work from eight to five and spend the evening drinking. We don’t. We reserve the evening for brainstorming.”

He looked me in the eye.

“And you flying to Boston and all of you Zambians in the Diaspora are just as lazy and apathetic to your country. You don’t care about your country and yet your very own parents, brothers and sisters are in Mtendere, Chawama, and in villages, all of them living in squalor. Many have died or are dying of neglect by you. They are dying of AIDS because you cannot come up with your own cure. You are here calling yourselves graduates, researchers and scientists and are fast at articulating your credentials once asked—oh, I have a PhD in this and that—PhD my foot!”

I was deflated.

“Wake up you all!” he exclaimed, attracting the attention of nearby passengers. “You should be busy lifting ideas, formulae, recipes, and diagrams from American manufacturing factories and sending them to your own factories. All those research findings and dissertation papers you compile should be your country’s treasure. Why do you think the Asians are a force to reckon with? They stole our ideas and turned them into their own. Look at Japan, China, India, just look at them.”

He paused. “The Bwana has spoken,” he said and grinned. “As long as you are dependent on my plane, I shall feel superior and you my friend shall remain inferior, how about that? The Chinese, Japanese, Indians, even Latinos are a notch better. You Africans are at the bottom of the totem pole.”

He tempered his voice. “Get over this white skin syndrome and begin to feel confident. Become innovative and make your own stuff for god’s sake.”

At 8 a.m. the plane touched down at Boston’s Logan International Airport. Walter reached for my hand.

“I know I was too strong, but I don’t give it a damn. I have been to Zambia and have seen too much poverty.” He pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something. “Here, read this. It was written by a friend.”

He had written only the title: “Lords of Poverty.”

Thunderstruck, I had a sinking feeling. I watched Walter walk through the airport doors to a waiting car. He had left a huge dust devil twirling in my mind, stirring up sad memories of home. I could see Zambia’s literati—the cognoscente, intelligentsia, academics, highbrows, and scholars in the places he had mentioned guzzling and talking irrelevancies. I remembered some who have since passed—how they got the highest grades in mathematics and the sciences and attained the highest education on the planet. They had been to Harvard, Oxford, Yale, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), only to leave us with not a single invention or discovery. I knew some by name and drunk with them at the Lusaka Playhouse and Central Sports.

Walter is right. It is true that since independence we have failed to nurture creativity and collective orientations. We as a nation lack a workhorse mentality and behave like 13 million civil servants dependent on a government pay cheque. We believe that development is generated 8-to-5 behind a desk wearing a tie with our degrees hanging on the wall. Such a working environment does not offer the opportunity for fellowship, the excitement of competition, and the spectacle of innovative rituals.

But the intelligentsia is not solely, or even mainly, to blame. The larger failure is due to political circumstances over which they have had little control. The past governments failed to create an environment of possibility that fosters camaraderie, rewards innovative ideas and encourages resilience. KK, Chiluba, Mwanawasa, and Banda embraced orthodox ideas and therefore failed to offer many opportunities for drawing outside the line.

I believe King Cobra’s reset has been cast in the same faculties as those of his predecessors. If today I told him that we can build our own car, he would throw me out.

“Naupena? Fuma apa.” (Are you mad? Get out of here)

Knowing well that King Cobra will not embody innovation at Walter’s level let’s begin to look for a technologically active-positive leader who can succeed him after a term or two. That way we can make our own stone crushers, water filters, water pumps, razor blades, and harvesters. Let’s dream big and make tractors, cars, and planes, or, like Walter said, forever remain inferior.

A fundamental transformation of our country from what is essentially non-innovative to a strategic superior African country requires a bold risk-taking educated leader with a triumphalist attitude and we have one in YOU. Don’t be highly strung and feel insulted by Walter. Take a moment and think about our country. Our journey from 1964 has been marked by tears. It has been an emotionally overwhelming experience. Each one of us has lost a loved one to poverty, hunger, and disease. The number of graves is catching up with the population. It’s time to change our political culture. It’s time for Zambian intellectuals to cultivate an active-positive progressive movement that will change our lives forever. Don’t be afraid or dispirited, rise to the challenge and salvage the remaining few of your beloved ones.

Field Ruwe is a US-based Zambian media practitioner and author. He is a PhD candidate with a B.A. in Mass Communication and Journalism, and an M.A. in History.

Thursday 13 September 2012

"THINK" DO WE?


"THINK" DO WE?

On a certain Thursday, a couple of weeks ago, i and my boss went to one of this "important high rolling" ministry. We needed to work out some paper works with some officials of the ministry about a contract we had just been awarded with the ministry. We had done some work with them before so i was already a house hold face with the staff + security guards and so we were ushered to the top most floor (more or less where the Ogas stay).

It was a typical cozy government office, with the shiny table top, executive swivel chair, chilling AC unit, and yeah a floor length mirror. Ofcourse i will notice that, as it fuels my vanity anytime i walk in there. However, that is not the aim of this story. Upon arrival i gazed into the mirror, fluffed my hair, smacked my lips and sat down. The SA to the minister walked in and we exchanged pleasantries. Just then three ladies from another firm walked in, as the SA also had another meeting with them. It was something about helping them tender their case to the Minister so the company they were representing could be paid its monies. (oh yeah, i eaves dropped. As a media person it is expedient to have a nose for news). Somehow they struck me as stand off-ish kind of ladies. They seemed to carry an air of somewhat importance and exuded an aura of "we know what we are doing here" that made me make a mental note to give them my most bitchy attitude. Just then the Minister summoned the SA, so he had to "neglect" us for a bit. Thank God for that window period as that is what inspired this write up.

When he stepped out, my boss, the three ladies and i introduced ourselves and exchanged conversation on a few general national topics. Just then, my boss had a ring on his phone so had to excuse himself out of the room to answer it.  I was left alone with these ladies and as we conversed, they turned out to be a great inspiration. One was Igbo, another Yoruba and the third Hausa-Fulani. You would expect that they will counter each other in every discussion (as we see in todays politics) but that wasn't so. They were colleagues but seemed to be friends also.

Somehow as we conversed, we meandered into the aspect of "thinking". Usually we just throw that word around without taking time to understand what it entails. Most of us who have been out of school no longer know how to think. We pour ourselves deeply into our work and we get soaked into the constant ups and downs of our occupations that we never find the time to imagine other things we could be and/or could do in our lives. We are so encumbered with providing solution-oriented thoughts that we do not give our minds the credit to create something new, unique and innovative.

While we argued back and forth, we came to the realization that "worrying" "anxiety" cannot  be categorized under thinking. They are solution-oriented mullings. The ability to think constructive thoughts is in all of us, but we need to learn to sometimes shut down certain worrying/anxiety thoughts to be able to allow us truly focus our energy into thinking productive thoughts.

That conversation taught me 2 things:
1. Never to judge a person before you have given them an opportunity to express themselves.
2. Strike up conversations with people I meet. I just might learn a great deal from them or in the least, impart my knowledge to them.

After our conversation, we exchanged our cards and promised to keep intouch sometime in the future. Who knows my company just might be called upon to be their PR Consultant in the future?

"WALKING" CHARITY

Writing a disclaimer often is very tedious and energy sapping, so i intend to keep this disclaimer as short as possible.......

Disclaimer

Certain people close to me may be quoted in this blog, in such cases they will be duly attributed. In any case where there be any resemblance of characters in my blog to real life, whether of persons, objects, or circumstances besides the ones who i attribute to are purely coincidental. Thank you!

WALKING CHARITY

Couple of weeks ago I, along side a number of my friends hosted a charity event for teenage orphans from an orphanage in rural town Gishiri, Abuja. It was a PHOTO POWER Initiative, with theme "Hope For Gishiri" .

My friend Yinka Taiwo came up with the vision and then requested our help to contribute into bringing that vision to fruition. Many people i spoke with about this project thought it a smart and thouthful idea but never believed a few youngsters like us could pull it off. That upsetted me greatly. Many people do not understand the plight of less priviledged people especially where it affects kids. Some are fortunate to have grown up in a home with two parents and many relations to help cater for their every need, thus they take such advantage for granted.

Well, pull if off we did, and may i add, remarkably well. This project ran for two weeks, we taught the teenage kids of the orphanage all aspects of photography. From camera functions to taking shots, editing to framing and so on. Several photographers volunteered to teach these kids and also take them on photo-walks around Abuja metropolis to take pictures of their sorroundings.

At the end of the photo taking sessions, the photographers helped teach them how to edit the best photos which were about 30 in all. They were framed afterward and we began to plan an exhibition to bring the project to a close. We contacted sponsors many of which supported in whatever way they could to the success of the event. Most of us emotionally blackmailed our parents and friends and bosses into supporting such a wonderful cause, and i might add, we really did get them.

We had intended to use the coutyard of the orphanage for the exhibition but decided against that for several reasons including the fact that many peolpe may not be able to easily find their way to the sub-ub where the orphanage is located. A well meaning supporter cleared his Art gallery situated in Wuse 2 right inside town and allowed us hang the photos taken by the kids for the exhibition and auction. It was a big event, even more than we had expected. Many people turned up and came with the intent of buying the photos and/or donating to support the orphans.

The auctioneer was a beautiful lady 'Lara" who gave such a perfect delivery that even people who had no intention of buying these Arts were gingered into doing so. And many who had planned to buy only one or two, ended up bidding for a couple of photos.

At the end of the auction, every one of the photos was sold! remarkable! We were greatly astounded by the love shown for our cause and the donations! When all monies were reconciled, a group of volunteers went to the orphange and donated all of it to the Administrator for the upkeep of the orphans. A couple of cameras were bought and given to the orphans who showed the brightest flair for photography. This is to enable them pursue a career in photography if they wished (and we do hope so), or atleast enjoy it as an Art. Who knows, they may be the next TY Bello of Nigeria or a photo reporter for TIME.

Yinka the founder of the initiative was featured on NTA Network AM Express show and she went along with the best student/orphan of the programme. So also, the story of the event was featured in several Newspapers for the whole of the country to see and even beyond! Truly our hearts were gladdend by the smiles we put on the faces of these kids.

It was a worthwhile programme. And i engender everyone who reads this blog to know that it is our duty to give back to the community. Support the cause of charity in any way you can, be it music, free Healthcare delivery, environmental sanitation or donating your resources into any number of causes.

Do the Walk, not just the Talk.

Gracias amigos.








Thursday 6 September 2012

THE LATE BLOOMER

Disclaimer

Any resemblance of characters in my blog to real life, whether of persons, objects, or circumstances are purely coincidental. Also, try as much as you can not to use contents of this blog to judge my persona, well its not like i care anyway. For the sake of your psychological health, take everytthing on face value. This is because alot of crazy things may be spewed here that can turn even the most stoic into locos and may even depress some -__- . You should just enjoy the read and you could even pick up a few things that will help. *that being detrimental to you ofcourse*. The lot of sane things here will most likely to have been written by Jemimah. However, any inhibition you may have as regards the use of profanity in this blog is purely the fault of Nikky. She is my co-blogger and as others may well know "my alter-ego". Therefore any and all complaints should be forwarded to her desk. And to tell you the truth, she usually doesn't give a hoot. So you might like to do yourself a favour and ignore anything that may offend you.


THE LATE BLOOMER

My name is Keren and i'll be 22 years old in December. I had always been a late bloom child. Sort of like the ugly duckling who only became a lovely swan long after his peers.
Growing up in a typical Nigerian home, in a typical Nigerian society, with typical Christain Northern parents + adults around me had its perks. Trust our ancient parents whose idea of fun was to match make their kids. Probably twas all a joke, and probably in a little corner of their hearts they hoped their kids will grow to marry each other someday, so the family's ties could be knotted forever. For as early as i can remember, everyone teased me and called me TY's wife. I was probably 5 or 6 at that time and i was very embarrassed! I will wail and run into any room and hide under the bed anytime TY and his family came over to visit. And trust boy kids, he will embark on a search campaign to find me and drag me out to the parlour. He seemed to really enjoy being "mijin keren".

One thing you should know was that I was never a shy girl. I sang at the children's church choir and was always at the front row. (In retrospect, i dont think they let me stand there because i had a good voice, its most likely because i was just knee high + i had a tendency of bringing down the house if i didn't get what i wanted). Besides that, i was always at every debate and literary function in school. But for some strange reason, i never liked the whole match-making thing.

Maybe, that should have warned me that i was probably building an apathy towards friendships and all that, because as i grew up i really didn't like boys. That was partly because i went to a girls school through out my secondary education. And also because it was frowned at if you had many male friends, as you were easily tagged "a loose girl". And for a teenage girl in secondary that was a huge insult. The fact that i didn't mature early also played a huge part. Guys only "toasted" the girls who were "grown". By that i mean, girls with developed boobies. As for me i was just poor ol' tiny winny black Keren. At age nine a couple of girls in school already had boyfriends and were overly pleased to show it off, while i was forming Tomboy and busy still playing "hide and seek" with match made boyfriends.

When i started "growing up", i would cover myself in Baggy trousers to hide a rather fine body that was forming. Unknowingly, i was passing off the wrong signals. Guys who liked me thought i would never like them back and so never bolstered enough courage to ask me out, even as i grew older.

It wasn't totally a bad situation though, because while other girls were more bothered about their appearances and such, i focused my entire energy into my books. That, did reap good fruits somewhere along the line. But as a hausa adage goes "ko wata gauta jah ne, sai dai bata sha rana ba", when it was time to blossom, the Rose (that is ME) really did bloom. An awareness of my feminity(which i never knew existed) continuosly bloomed like a big red rose flower.

Then i got all the attention i had missed out on + had a better standing, as all those years of burying myself in books and novels paid off. I wasn't only just a beauty, but one with even more brains.

Enjoy your day!


P.S
Please comment, share + Subscribe to my blog. Lets help build a strong online presence. ONE LUV.

Wednesday 5 September 2012

MY CUPID HELPERS

Disclaimer

Any resemblance of characters in my blog to real life, whether of persons, objects, or circumstances are purely coincidental. Also, try as much as you can not to use contents of this blog to judge my persona, well its not like i care anyway. For the sake of your psychological health, take everytthing on face value. This is because alot of crazy things may be spewed here that can turn even the most stoic into locos and may even depress some -__- . You should just enjoy the read and you could even pick up a few things that will help. *that being detrimental to you ofcourse*. The lot of sane things here will most likely to have been written by Jemimah. However, any inhibition you may have as regards the use of profanity in this blog is purely the fault of Nikky. She is my co-blogger and as others may well know "my alter-ego". Therefore any and all complaints should be forwarded to her desk. And to tell you the truth, she usually doesn't give a hoot. So you might like to do yourself a favour and ignore anything that may offend you.


My Cupid Helpers


Every single girl/lady from age 18 who has attained an A-level must have been put under a "when will you marry search light" every once in a while. Funny enough, it is rarely our own mothers who breathe down our necks with such inquisitions, but mostly distant aunts and cousins who have probably not known jack about your life since you were 5yrs old.

Gone were d 90's where a lady wasn't roped into marriage talks until she is approaching the big 3 "0". That was the era most of us saw our aunts and elder siblings grow up in, so had fashioned our lives to getting married at our late 20s. This proves constantly changing these days for many reasons.

One, our childhood friends are married, some just tied the knot and some have 2 kids before their 23rd birthday. Now our parents + parent figures feel they are duty bound to get their own kids wedded off.

Couple of days ago, my late father's sister whom i hadn't seen for over 17years came visiting. She had felt guilty about staying away from my siblings and i for so long. Not like i am one for a reunion or anything, but i felt since her visit was to born out of guilt, i thought i could atleast be friendly enough to her. After i had endured the whole semi-apologies/catching up, i needed to got away from all that, so i snuck off to my room, turned on my music loud and was bobbing my head to my favourite rock band.

Dear aunt felt she had gisted enough with my other siblings and so she knocked on my door. In retrospect now, i wish i had faked being asleep to avoid any conversation. Instead i let her come in with plans to quickly exchange light conversation and dismiss myself. Unfortunately for me, after what seemed like a sentence of honest conversation she went straight to the matter that really did bring her to my room.
She goes, "erm baby, so now you are through with university right?" i replied in the affirmative. And then she goes "Tor, saura aure ko?" (meaning - "all that is left is to get married right?") To that i gave a fake half laugh that many people attribute to me being uninterested in a discussion. Obviously she didnt get it, and she went on and on about the importance of getting married as soon as possible.... (as if she was one to talk to me about anything, she being absent through my formative life and beyond). Through all her talking though, i nodded, half-smiled and faked interest, until i couldn't fake it anymore. I had to lie that i had a headache and needed to get some sleep before she excused herself. 

Similarly, my friend's mother recently bought her a gold earring set with hopes that she wears it at her introduction! Mind you she and her beau haven't even taken d "serious/exclusive relationship" step yet. With this push from her mom now she has to start mildly pushing boo towards that decision.

The other day, a married friend of mine gave a friend of hers my pin + number, openly trying to hook us up (by the way, did I mention she did so without my permission?) When I berrated her she dismissed it flippantly, In her words, "well its not like you are married nor have a serious boy friend, so just try dating him, you will like him". Last time I checked I never told her I needed help getting guys, nor did I insinuate that I wasn't seeing anyone. But to her, so far as I haven't told her "hey chic, dis is d guy I wanna marry" that means I'm very available.

Having always been one who keeps my personal life quiet, I would expect her to know that i never say a personal thing without being very sure first, and for that, to respect my privacy act. But I guess to some people hushing up means I'm desperate& probably too depressed to talk about it.

Not like the thoughts of our dear cupid helpers are necessarily wrong. But its just that sometimes they should let us do things at our own pace. And if you "must" interfere, please let it come in a form of prayer to God anytime you kneel to pray.

Buenos Dias!


Salut amigos

Jemimah Nikky Jatau: THOSE EVER PRESENT HOUSEGUESTS

Jemimah Nikky Jatau: THOSE EVER PRESENT HOUSEGUESTS: Disclaimer Consistently having to write a disclaimer is beginning to become mundane, redundant and increasingly boring. However, for the s...

THOSE EVER PRESENT HOUSEGUESTS

Disclaimer

Consistently having to write a disclaimer is beginning to become mundane, redundant and increasingly boring. However, for the sake of my rather empty bank account i am forced to do so, in any event that a disgruntled person may decide to "try to" sue -___-. So here we go....
Certain people close to me may be quoted in this blog (with their permission ofcourse), in such cases they will be duly attributed. In any case where there be any resemblance of characters in my blog to real life, whether of persons, objects, or circumstances besides the ones i attribute to are purely coincidental. You should try not to be too critical to matters of this blog post. Just enjoy the read and you could even pick up a few things that will help. *i cant assure you though that none will be detrimental to you ofcourse*. The lot of sane things here will most likely to have been written by Jemimah. However, any inhibition you may have as regards the use of profanity in this blog is purely the fault of Nikky. She is my co-blogger and as others may well know "my alter-ego". Therefore any and all complaints should be forwarded to her desk. And to tell you the truth, she usually doesn't give a hoot. So you might like to do yourself a favour and ignore anything that may offend you.

 
 THOSE EVER PRESENT HOUSEGUESTS

Growing up in a large family had its upside and alotta downsides trust me. The upside was swell as there were always elder siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles to help take care of me. Do my laundry, take me to school, cook my meals and so on. The downsides were never noticed until many years later.

Having spent most of my years away in boarding school from JSS1 to University, i had never been home for more than 2 months at a time. Upon graduation from Uni was when i began to get antsy by the amount of people living in my house. Though many had gone to get married and start their families, many more had come to live with us to replace them.

It makes the house seem like a constant market place. A beehive of activity and constant frustration. Where you keep an item is never where you will return to find it. And as common with all big households no one will ever admit to moving it away to another location. So it seems like besides the gazillion house members their also seemingly exists some ghosts who move around undoing everything that everyone does.

Growing up in such a house teaches one to be accomodating and open to provide room and board to anyone who is in need. This though a good lesson could be uncomfortable as everyone in the house is free to invite a friend who is in town and needs a place to crash for a couple of days (and as normal with africans, that translates to weeks un-end)

Now that puts the entire family (i actually mean ME) in a fix. Though i am a people person, i really do greatly crave my own space. i am one of those weirdos who on days i am home, could stay inside my room through out the day without stepping out. I enjoy my company so much i donot like being forced to share my little space with anyone.

But then the family must have guests, and when they do come they are to share my room with me and that just gnaws at me. I have had my own fair share of annoying guests and a couple of fun ones. Ranging from the ones who "jarumpa" (that is toss and turn and flay their arms and legs uncontrollably) to those who help out greatly in house chores.
It is usually the "jarumpa" filled ones that pose the highest threat to my sanity. They give me such a heavy thrashing at night that i wake up with body pain and i am forced to catch up on the lost sleep at work. Now that is very unhealthy.

During my formative years i really wanted to have a large family for myself. Actually, anyone who is close to me know that i would want to have 6 children. But now, my orientation really has changed. For the sake of any kid of mine who will have my attitude, i pray to God for just two, as this will provide everyone with enough personal space. When there is so much money, i could adopt other kids each with his/her own quarters so they dont bump into each with every turn they make.

Now that all is said and i am done purging my heart out, i am going back to work before my boss notices that i am using office time and resources to update my blog. And on the matter of my boss, i should blog our interesting office relationship soon.

Adious Amigos

Tuesday 4 September 2012

8 GIRLS IN THE HANDS OF 8 DEVILISH MEN

Disclaimer

This post is designed to share a link to a rather interesting story from another blog post. Therefore, any resemblance of characters in my blog to real life, whether of persons, objects, or circumstances are purely coincidental. Also, try as much as you can not to use contents of this blog to judge my persona, well its not like i care anyway. The lot of sane things here will most likely to have been written by Jemimah. However, any inhibition you may have as regards the use of profanity in this blog is purely the fault of Nikky. She is my co-blogger and as others may well know "my alter-ego". Therefore any and all complaints should be forwarded to her desk. And to tell you the truth, she usually doesn't give a hoot. So you might like to do yourself a favour and ignore anything that may offend you.

You all should take out time to read it and share with others also. Life is too precious for us to be careless with it. Thank you

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