tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21672728384745554382024-03-05T09:42:02.002+00:00Ose @ the verandahAll material on this blog is the original work of Oseyemi Fagbamigbe also known as Ose@the verandah; is protected by copyright. No copying or reproduction is allowed without the permission of the blog author. Thank youdivaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-1794371582781078872014-08-24T14:35:00.000+01:002014-08-24T14:35:49.483+01:00Different Strokes<br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My friend, Ifeoma just relocated
to Nigeria after a long sojourn in the UK. We met for lunch at a restaurant in
Lagos. I studied her carefully as we sat down while waiting for the waiter to
take our orders. I had not seen her in ages and I was weary about this meeting
because of the general attitude of Nigerian returnees to other Nigerians. I was
pleasantly surprised at her disposition. She appeared relaxed and it was as if
she never left the country unlike some of my other friends who suddenly
developed an attitude because they had lived abroad for a while. As we took our
seats the waiter approached us to take
our orders. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“How long will that take?” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thirty minutes” the waiter
answered politely.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“That means one hour” I responded
sarcastically.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No o madam it will only take
thirty minutes.” The waiter said confidently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I will remind you when you bring
it later than thirty minutes”. I replied smiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The waiter left after taking our
orders. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Why did you do that?” Ifeoma
asked<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh! Don’t mind me. It is more of
preparing myself for the delay. I hate to wait for anything. He has said thirty
minutes anything after that will get me worked up but I have told myself one
hour so it doesn’t really matter. I won’t agitate until an hour.” I explained<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Interesting” Ifeoma said. “So
you mean it may take up to an hour?” She asked<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“It may and may not but the truth
is most waiters don’t have sense of timing and in order to placate the
customer, they give you any time that comes to their head.” I said knowingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We nursed our drinks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So how does it feel to be back
home?” I asked after a while. This wasn’t her first time back since she left about 20 years
ago. But she, like many Nigerians, who left the country in the '80s, are coming
back to Nigeria to stay for good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The weather is killing.” She
said. “But it is expected. Takes getting used to though.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Apart from the weather?” I asked<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The change takes getting used to
but I really don’t want to complain. I decided to come back.” She said
shrugging. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I really wish people will stop fussing over
me though. I can’t find my way around true but I hate to feel as if something
evil will happen to me the moment I step out alone. I was born here and I lived
here for 25 years before I traveled so I can’t understand the fuss.” She
complained<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The Nigeria you left twenty
years ago is different now you know. I mean the crime rate is high and night
life is not safe at all.” I said trying to explain people’s reaction<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ose, there is crime everywhere.
Nigeria is not the worst place in the world. I remember when I first got to UK,
my bag was snatched at West End. My sister and I went shopping. She had warned me about hanging my handbag
loosely and I was like please, I lived in Lagos before I got here. Before I could spell my name,” she napped her
fingers together “my bag was napped I was so surprised. We have been brain washed to believe that crime
doesn’t happen in those places.” She said amused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I know what you mean but then a
lot has changed in this country.” I said<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“ It’s irritating the way people
fuss over me. I know they are being nice but I simply find it difficult to get
used to.” She said smiling. “They struggle with me to carry my bag, pick after
me, I can’t even make my own meals.” She said exasperated. “Who cares about all that in London. My
neighbours and I hardly see each other. I am sure I might not recognise them on the street. The warmth here
is good but overwhelming. I went to see my mum the other day. My God!” She said
rolling her eyeballs, bemused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“She invited the whole neighbourhood to come and greet you right?” I said laughing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh yes! It wasn’t funny at that
time” It was as if she had told the whole village that I was arriving that
day.” Ifeoma started laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “I couldn’t believe it. It was like I was on
display and by the following day, she started distributing stuff I got for her to
them. The three days I spent was suffocating to say the least.” She cackled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You know we are very warm
people. This is our culture.” I replied laughing too. I could just picture the
scenario.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I know” She said shaking her
head “but maybe I have been away for too long. It’s a totally different culture
I am used to now but I intend making the best of it if I don’t get crazy before
I get used to it”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I know what you mean” I said to
her. “My uncle once told me a story when he went to UK for a course. He made
friends with a British and they were quite close. Sometime during the period he
was there, his friend lost his father. My uncle went with him for the funeral
and after the event, my uncle handed him an envelope containing some pounds.
His friend was extremely upset with him when he found out the content of the
envelop. He said ‘Victor you insult me. Why are you giving me money? No please
I can’t take this' he said as he returned the envelope to my uncle and walked away angry. My uncle
was extremely embarrassed and stood there with his mouth agape, not knowing if
he should pocket the envelop or not. To make matters worse all eyes were on him
so he quietly walked away not understanding his friend’s reaction. Few days
later, he saw his friend and tried to explain it as part of African culture. We
love to support our own on any occasion.” I narrated<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Ifeoma burst out laughing. “Poor
man” she said. “I can imagine how he might have felt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“He said the first shock he had
when he got to the funeral was that
just finger foods, tea and coffee were served at the reception. Coming
from Nigeria, he couldn’t understand it. We throw big parties!” I said
giggling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I remember also my first
experience with snow.” Ifeoma said. “I had gone to the pay phone to make a
call. I noticed people were running and I wondered why. I opened the door of
the pay phone and I saw white flakes. I didn’t understand what it meant so I
started running. I ran for dear life back to my sister’s house. I was out of
breathe by the time I got to her apartment. My sister asked me what the problem
was. I pointed towards the window as I was too breathless to talk. She looked
out and noticed that everywhere was white. ‘Oh it’s snowing’ she said. ‘Quite early this year I must say’. I looked at her and started laughing. I laughed so
hard because I thought the world had ended.” She giggled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh mine!” I exclaimed laughing
too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I felt foolish when I realised
my errors.” She laughed again<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Talking about foolishness,” I
said lowering my voice. “I recall my first visit too. I was inside the London
bus and I was perplexed at how I would indicate that I had reached my bus stop.
I noticed there was no conductor and no one calling out the names of the bus
stop. I was so worried and I didn’t want to show off my ignorance. So, I sat
there praying fervently that someone will probably drop at the same place with
me. Someone pressed the bell and I got down at where I had assumed was my stop.
I mean I was coming from Lagos where the conductor calls out the bus stop and
no bell to press.” I said chuckling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So was it the right bus stop?”
Ifeoma asked<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No o! I realised I was at the
wrong place and I had to wait for another bus. I mean I was silly. I could have
asked someone but it was my first time in London and I was a bit uncomfortable
with the way I was being stared at.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I guess that’s probably how
Europeans felt when they too came to
Nigeria back then. I remembered when my cousin came back with his wife in the '70s. He brought her to the village to see my folks. The villagers came out
to in drove to look at the strange woman their son brought from <i>obodo oyinbo</i>. The children sang for her and
also tried touching her. Then one day, she and my cousin decided to have a
picnic at an open field in the village. She had on a bikini and the whole
village came out to see a naked white woman.“ Ifeoma said laughing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Poor woman.” I said
sympathetically<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh! That was the last time they
tried that nonsense. My father had to explain to my cousin and the wife that
the village is not UK and that people are not used to seeing naked bodies.” She said<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I guess it is different strokes
for different folks. What we consider as strange is norm somewhere else.” I
said smiling<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“ You are right.” Ifeoma said. “My
American classmate when I did my second degree, had a Nigerian boyfriend. She
came to me fuming one day because she felt her Naija boyfriend had insulted
her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What happened?” I asked curious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“My Naija brother bought her a
blender as a birthday gift. She was so furious because she had expected bunch
of flowers and box of chocolate or a candle light dinner. The guy came with a
blender.” Ifeoma recounted. We burst out
laughing. I almost choked on my drink as I could imagine the perplexed look on
the poor guy’s face. <br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The poor guy must have been thoroughly
embarrassed.” I said still laughing. “Nigerian guys don’t have any romantic
bone in their bodies. That’s why they think of giving out the useful and
essential gifts. What is it with chocolate or bunch of flowers. Please!” I said
chuckling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I had to explain to Louisa, my
American friend that the guy meant no harm. I told her that most Nigerian girls
will probably not appreciate a gift of
box of chocolate anyway. Louisa was shocked but eventually they made up.”
Ifeoma said laughingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We kept quiet as I
thought of the differences in culture and the way of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I wish there is electricity
though. I was told things have improved but really…”she said shaking her head.
I think we Nigerians are so used to blackout that it has become more of norm than an
anomaly.” Ifeoma said interrupting my thoughts. “ I remember sometime again
when there was a blackout in my area of London. It was not funny. It was in the
middle of the night. I was so scared. I ran to switch off all appliances. I
took the key to my house and sat down by the door near my kids' room ready to bolt
any second. I was so worried. Electricity was restored almost immediately but
everybody was in panic. At least I sat in my house but my neighbours were on
the street.” She said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I guess you are right. We just got used to
not having electricity and we think it is normal. Meanwhile you experienced one
blackout in over ten years of living in UK and you guys were scared silly.” I
said deeply in thought. “It’s sad. One shouldn’t get used to a bad experience". I
said solemnly. “In fact we get worried once electricity gets frequent as if it
is an omen that something evil may soon occur.” I said shaking my head forlornly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Your meal madam.” the waiter
served our food quietly. “ Madam I brought your food within thirty minutes,” he
said mischievously. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I guess you did.” I answered
smiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Enjoy your meal ma.” He said
bowing slightly as he left us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-43928613670267952352014-07-03T13:06:00.000+01:002014-07-03T14:45:02.627+01:00Tit for Tat<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Auntie can you imagine what the Pastor said to us at the
marriage counselling session today?” Foluso asked as she started cooking
dinner.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No” I answered. I
leaned on the door watching her chopping pepper, onion and tomato with expertise
of a fine cook. Foluso loved to cook and you can’t take it away from her, she
did it very well. I watched her silently waiting for her to continue her story.
She washed her hands in the sink and turned to look at me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Pastor told us of a woman whose husband was a
philander. He was never at home but spent most of his free time chasing after
young girls.” She narrated. Foluso and Alex, her fiancé were preparing for
marriage so they go for marriage counselling every week. She would come back from
these sessions telling me about what the counsellor for that week told them.
Most times, she found the sessions amusing believing that most of what they
were told were archaic and cannot stand modern day situations.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The fact of his
activities was not hidden from the wife.” She said as she continued with her
narration. “But she never challenged her husband but prayed to God that He
should change her husband. The more she prayed, the worst the husband became.
According to our Pastor, one day the husband came home with his girlfriend and
told his wife that they were going to have a threesome.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?” I exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes o.” She answered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what did she do?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She did not argue with her husband but asked the woman if
she wanted to shower and showed her the bathroom.” Foluso said<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really,” I said in disbelieve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She also offered the lady a nightie and asked if the girlfriend wanted anything to eat.”
She said laughing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what happened?” I asked in anticipation of a dramatic
reaction from the wife.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The girlfriend
finished taking her bath and came to the sitting room where the couple waited
for her. The man jumped up excited and told his wife to proceed to the room.”
She continued.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The girlfriend carried her bag and told the man that he was
a wicked man who had no respect for his wife. She left despite the fact that
the wife warned her that it was too late. She also offered the use of the guest
room for the night.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Interesting” I said finding it difficult to believe that
any woman will be that calm in the face of outright disrespect. I was
dumbfounded listening to Foluso. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what now happened between the man and his wife?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ha! According to pastor o, hmmm, the man for the first time
in years then realised how beautiful his wife is after the girlfriend had
insulted him. He apologised to her and became a good husband thereafter. She
said cynically.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Please!” I laughed sarcastically. “How convenient for the
foolish husband to change at this point.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, the real gist is that Pastor now asked me in the
presence of Alex what I would do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What was your response?” I asked curious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I told Pastor that I will simply invite my own boyfriend
for a threesome too.” She replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah! I shouted. How can you say that?” I asked chiding her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Auntie, my motto is tit-for-tat. Whatever the devil that
will make my husband have the effrontery to bring his girlfriend home, ha! He
should be prepared that I will definitely get back.” Foluso said vehemently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But Foluso, no marriage can survive on that principle.” I
advised.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ha! Men too should learn to respect their wives, and most
especially the sanctity of marriage. If he is not willing to make the marriage
work, why should I? Auntie, it takes two to tango. If it fails, we both failed.”
She said fervently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I agree that the sanctity of marriage should be respected
and honoured. But you know there is no tit-for-tat in marriage that is if you
don’t want a broken marriage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Auntie Please o!” She said forcefully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anyway, what did the pastor say after you said this? I
asked still shocked at her response.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He looked at me in disbelief and shook his head.” Foluso
laughed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Alex?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He knows me. He knows that I don’t take nonsense.” She smiled knowingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at her in amazement as she went back to her
cooking. I truly wondered what the future holds in stock for her and Alex.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-88747912090812817442014-06-20T14:22:00.002+01:002014-06-20T14:22:55.166+01:00Putting the Record Straight on the Death of Olaiya Fagbamigbe<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
We, the children of late Olaiya Fagbamigbe are writing this article in response to the centre page news story of the Sunday Sun Newspaper of June 1, 2014 titled “How 1983 Ondo Guber Poll Fraud Sparked People’s Revolt” written by Tunde Raheem.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
We have reframed from saying anything for decades about the gruesome murder of our dear father, on August 16, 1983, a week before his 55th birthday, not because we don’t have facts that led to his murder but because we believe that it would not bring him back neither would it replace all the things we lost. The one million dollar question is, who will judge – are they not the same people who killed him? However, we now believe that since the likes of Mr. Tunde Raheem would not let sleeping dog lie, it’s now imperative for us to respond. We are fed up with the constant lies.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
The interesting thing is that every attempt to soil his name simply tells the world that Olaiya Fagbamigbe, our father, was and is still an important figure, a force that cannot be ignored in politics, who almost 31 years after his death, is still strongly talked about. People die and are forgotten. Some die and people around them joyfully announce their departure. But to the glory of God, our father whose life was maliciously and gruesomely terminated in 1983 is still such an important point of reference in the history of politics. If not so, why the lies? Why the need for cover up?</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Our father was a renowned<em> </em>member of the UPN. Our father defected from UPN not out of greed or selfish interest as it’s often subtly portrayed but because he was a man of peace and integrity and it was difficult for him to work with people who lacked those qualities. According to Mr Tunde Raheem, in his article, the 1983 riot was spontaneous but this is untrue as the gruesome murder of our father and others affected was a well-orchestrated plan by those who wanted our father dead. For example, months before the primaries, our father was shot by gunmen in the hip area while visiting a relative. There were three people in the car. The man mistaken for our daddy: uncle Ire, was shot in the head. Thank God he is still alive today. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
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When these victims arrived at the General Hospital Akure, they were turned back because of a prior instruction not to treat people with gunshot wounds. A few days before the primaries, a prominent member of the UPN was arrested for producing fake UPN cards (one of us saw this party member arrested). These incidents were reported to the leadership of the party and no action was taken. After all these atrocities, our father and quite a lot of prominent UPN members in Ondo, Oyo , Lagos and Ogun states walked out of a UPN National meeting and never looked back. If other things were involved, well Olaiya Fagbamigbe is not here to talk about it but those still alive who knows the story especially those involved might decided to come out with the TRUTH. But we have stated it here as it is known to us.</div>
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Also, on the night of August 13th, 1983, the night of the gubernitorial election, an attempt was made three times before daybreak to burn our house at 11 Methodist Church Road, Gbogi, Akure.</div>
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A distant relative who heard about the plan, brought thugs to our house to protect us. Our father argued against allowing the thugs to guard the family but after so much argument, he allowed a handful of them whom he sent parking first thing the following morning. Our entire family would have been burnt to death in our sleep that night. This is the only time any of us ever saw thugs in our house. This attempt was not made by dissatisfied members of the public since they had voted that day and the result had not been announced. Was this spontaneous?</div>
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Months before the August 16 1983 incident, a campaign of condolence to the people of Akure was launched by Chief Obafemi Awolowo. He would say <em>e ku isehinde</em> Olaiya Fagbamigbe etc. This was aired on Ondo State Television. The State Radio and Television stations were instruments of campaign by the Ajasin administration.</div>
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When a hit list was shown to our father by concerned Akure indigens, he reported at the police station and a one-man-police-protection was given to us. He also wrote an article in the newspaper stating that his life was in danger.</div>
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On the morning of 16th August, 1983, visitors including our uncle Pa Oni Fagbamigbe and his friend visited our home very early in the morning as usual. We were at the balcony when we noticed an unusual crowd at the junction of the street and before one could say Jack Robinson, mob of people appeared from all angles matching towards our house. Our father instructed one of us to call the police but when eventually one of the officers answered the phone, he said ‘we don’t have a vehicle now if you make your way to the police station, we will protect you.’ This, he repeated to our father. Our father dropped the phone and expressed grief saying that he had been betrayed. If it was a spontaneous reaction, how come police men were not detailed to our house after the call?</div>
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While we were still considering our options, a neighbour frantically told us that our house had been set ablaze from precisely our father’s room. Our father instructed us to run for our dear lives. We begged him to come with us but he would not burg because he wouldn’t want the death of his brother, the visitors and supporters who lived on the street on his conscience. He wanted to be sure that they all escaped to safety.</div>
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We ran until we got to the front of an old man’s house not too far from our house. One of the tenants took us in but before we could settle, the thugs came after us, threatened to burn the man’s house down if he didn’t produce us. We managed to escape to the bush because our mother was caught. It was while we were in the bush that we heard the gruesome details of how our father was killed. Was this as a result of a spontaneous reaction? We were not politicians but students at that time so why the attempt on our lives? Interestingly, while in the bush, we heard that they were instructed to wipe out the whole family especially the first born by a man who complained bitterly about how oga will not be happy that we were not killed. Was this spontaneous Mr. Raheem?</div>
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Our mother was beaten, forced to drink petrol and was about to be burnt alive when in a miraculous way, God saved her. She is alive with a sound mind to describe those who wanted to kill her. These people had tribal marks. Akure people don’t wear tribal marks. So where did these people come from? Our mother was not a politician but a teacher and her only crime was to have married a politician so why the attempt on her life?</div>
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If Mr Tunde Rahmeen had wanted to write a comprehensive report, he could have done his research and read our mother’s account in the interview she granted Hope newspaper which was published on Wednesday, September 25, 2013 or better still, interview our mother who had been living in Akure since 2004. The reporter claimed he interviewed one Pa Ola Falodun who gave him an account of what transpired on the morning of August 16, 1983. This Pa Falodun could not have lived at Methodist Church Road in 1983 or up on till 5years ago when we pulled down the burnt and dilapidated house (not 2013 as reported by Mr Rahmeen).</div>
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The house adjacent to our house was owned by Mr Okoro. Beside us to the left is a Jehovah Witness Kingdom hall. To the right, was a house owned by Iya Ondo, to our opposite was the house owned by Baba and Iya Ojo and adjacent was the Okoros. There was no Pa Falodun living close to us at that time as claimed by Mr. Raheem. Neither did this Pa Falodun’s photograph in the Sunday Sun newspaper bear resemblance to anyone living on Methodist Church Road at the time. Also, the piece of land published in the newspaper is not our property in Gbogi. </div>
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We are proud of our father and his achievements. He was probably burnt alive as we do not have a definite account of how he was killed but one thing is sure, the memory lives on. History may have been re-written in Ondo State and those who have re-written it may be finding ways of convincing the entire world of their lies, but for us, it doesn’t matter. The enemies of Akure and Ondo State dead or alive might be celebrated today as the elder statesmen, it doesn’t matter. We knew our father. Those who knew him and have not compromised or have not been intimidated would speak the truth given the opportunity.</div>
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Some people are bigger than death, they never die. Our father might be dead but his memory lives on. </div>
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<strong>Olaiya Fagbamigbe’s Children </strong></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-63476533895096710372014-06-10T13:44:00.000+01:002014-06-10T13:44:05.757+01:00The Gang Rape of a Nation<div class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3704" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 19px;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7090">She </span><span class="yiv7605556405">h</span><span class="yiv7605556405">as </span><span class="yiv7605556405">been </span><span class="yiv7605556405">stripped</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3768">Humiliated and b</span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3767">eaten</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405">All she </span><span class="yiv7605556405">possesses</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> </span><span class="yiv7605556405">h</span><span class="yiv7605556405">as </span><span class="yiv7605556405">been forcibly </span><span class="yiv7605556405">taken</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405">Violated </span><span class="yiv7605556405">and </span><span class="yiv7605556405">shamed</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3774">How could this happen?</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3777">Those who kn</span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3776">o</span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3775">w better </span><span class="yiv7605556405">have </span><span class="yiv7605556405">turned their</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> </span><span class="yiv7605556405">faces away </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">Or </span><span class="yiv7605556405">worse </span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3780">have </span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3779">joined in the madness</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_3782"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The gang rape of a nation.</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">I</span><span class="yiv7605556405">t started</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> f</span><span class="yiv7605556405">rom the time she was born</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She stood no chance</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">Wave after wave after wave</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405">The onslaught has been relentless</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405">Each generation proclaiming themselves her saviour </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">But e</span><span class="yiv7605556405">ach time each</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> it has always been a failure</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">H</span><span class="yiv7605556405">er so called rescuers </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">Having </span><span class="yiv7605556405">see</span><span class="yiv7605556405">n</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> her beauty </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">Allow the allure of her splendor and richness to </span><span class="yiv7605556405">seize them </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">With that madness </span><span class="yiv7605556405">the </span><span class="yiv7605556405">onslaught begins again.</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">The st</span><span class="yiv7605556405">riping of her</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> </span><span class="yiv7605556405">body and soul </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">The gang rape of a nation</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">When she was born her people were filled with joy </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">T</span><span class="yiv7605556405">hey all </span><span class="yiv7605556405">marveled</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> at how regal and majestic she was. </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">A sight to behold, they were proud and</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> ecstatic </span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405">But now </span><span class="yiv7605556405">this same beauty is</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> seen as a curse </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">F</span><span class="yiv7605556405">or no matter the intent of her rescuer </span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">T</span><span class="yiv7605556405">his soon changes</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> and savagery takes over</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">She cries out but no-one seems to care</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">Young and old alike in their pursuit of her</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">Take leave of their senses and brutalise her</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7069"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The gang rape of a nation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7072">There she is broken and bent</span><span class="yiv7605556405"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7074">Her mother look</span><span class="yiv7605556405">ing</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> on powerless</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7075">As she struggle</span><span class="yiv7605556405">s</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> helpless</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7076">From the birth of the nation</span><span class="yiv7605556405"> till now</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405">The </span><span class="yiv7605556405">gang </span><span class="yiv7605556405">rape </span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7077">has never abated</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7078">When is this madness going to end?</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7079">Mothers where are you? Have you no voice</span><span class="yiv7605556405">?</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7080">Fathers where are you? Can you not protect</span><span class="yiv7605556405">?</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7081">How long is this to continue</span><span class="yiv7605556405">?</span><span class="yiv7605556405"><br class="yiv7605556405" /></span><span class="yiv7605556405"><span class="yiv7605556405">Will she survive t</span></span><span class="yiv7605556405">his </span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7082">continuous violation</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="yiv7605556405">The </span><span class="yiv7605556405" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1402402719233_7084">gang rape of a nation.</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 9.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="yiv7605556405" style="font-family: monospace;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt;">By: </span><b><span style="font-size: large;">IF Anumonye</span></b></span></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-76359266198566955552014-05-14T21:47:00.000+01:002014-05-14T21:51:34.466+01:00Turbulence of Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">W</b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">e sang the songs of sorrow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And danced to the mournful tune</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where did the promise go</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To hold and to keep?</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Life is but a motion</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since you left without a word</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I gave you my heart in worship</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You threw it back in pieces</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I gave you my love freely</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You accepted it without passion</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now the reality is obvious</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The past was placed on the altar of worship</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am caught in the turbulence of love</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The pang of pain is potent</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My heart, trapped in the sham of love</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mourning the phoney love</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am like a ship without the rudder</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sinking in the turbulence of love.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>image: coursey Google image</b></span></div>
</div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-24756560451913340722014-04-24T21:14:00.000+01:002014-04-24T21:38:33.945+01:00I Take Every Step<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRwBGevDAeL6aDgTbcoYXxOoz9MbN41PTQf3AepPiliUKqk9_I-" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRwBGevDAeL6aDgTbcoYXxOoz9MbN41PTQf3AepPiliUKqk9_I-" height="238" style="background-color: transparent;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #212124; color: white; font-family: 'Proxima Nova', 'helvetica neue', helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18px; text-align: start;">© Copyright Jan Richards All rights reserved</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;">
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I take every step gingerly</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like the careful step of an old woman</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With dry and brittle bones</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I take every step though difficult</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must forge ahead</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I take every step</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bent and beaten by the issues of life</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Head raised high, refused to be defeated</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like a man in command</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I take every step</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trying not to look back</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must keep on moving</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Irrespective of what life</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throws my way</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;">
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-87436718838562099522014-04-20T21:20:00.000+01:002014-04-20T21:24:09.050+01:00Message in the Bottle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwj4orxDmewj3kg6hr38UKcnIJzgyig0ULSklm9909WxoucN7tUMtNx7UleZXrVmKMAWXZt983p2DE2dJljUkHjpCILPFACBjAqTa4Mi6y3AkYoupHK4-cBHWanWo6VDA-ajYMwOm-_69F/s1600/Photography+as+an+art...guess+who+this+is+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwj4orxDmewj3kg6hr38UKcnIJzgyig0ULSklm9909WxoucN7tUMtNx7UleZXrVmKMAWXZt983p2DE2dJljUkHjpCILPFACBjAqTa4Mi6y3AkYoupHK4-cBHWanWo6VDA-ajYMwOm-_69F/s1600/Photography+as+an+art...guess+who+this+is+(1).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I sat by the window pane<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Watching the world go by<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thinking about unfulfilled dreams <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So many questions to ask<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yet no answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My heart heavy with the burden <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My eyes heavy with unshed tears <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I feel all alone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bearing this burden <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then I heard the whispers of the song<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That confirms am not alone in this journey<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Those hundreds of letters <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That came back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With the message in the bottle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photograph is courtesy photograph is an art and the LG...Rhythms</span></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-57833961340819398202014-03-27T10:19:00.003+00:002014-03-27T10:19:36.332+00:00American Mugu<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTRpj-8azowML5vqWvmEpINYsz44T65ondwxNUDP2QsuUewPitd" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTRpj-8azowML5vqWvmEpINYsz44T65ondwxNUDP2QsuUewPitd" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">We were
in my sitting room watching a Nollywood movie. The storyline was that of two
men who were trying to con a young girl whom they assumed was from a rich
family. The plot was silly and funny at the same time. I was amused at what men
will do to sleep with a girl including telling obvious lies. Wobioluwamitito,
whom we call Tito because her name was rather long and jaw breaking for the non-Yoruba
speaking people; kept on smiling to herself as we continued watching the movie.
Sometimes, she would chuckle loud which was distracting and annoying. Although,
I was more curious as to why she was so amused I didn’t ask her. The movie
finished and we sat back to discuss it as the credit rolled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"That
was a silly movie" I said as a way of conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Not
silly, it happens in real life" Tito replied<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Why
would the guy die at the end of it? Nigerian movie directors like to kill their
actors. I wonder who will be left on earth if that's how we all die at every slight
opportunity" I said not impressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"It’s
true." Esther said. "I am not so much of a fan of Nigerian movies <i>joo</i>!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"You
are not a fan of anything Nigerian. That's why you were almost duped by that fake
Americanna" I said laughing at Esther<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"That
one don craze. Me sef I show am now" Esther replied laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"All
these <i>bobos</i> are <i>mugu.</i> I tell you" Tito said shaking her head. "In fact
this movie reminded me of one <i>mugu</i>
who started harassing me on Facebook.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Really!"
I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Ha
see me o! This guy requested for my friendship. As I am very careful of who I
sign on, I went to check the friend list and I saw that we shared a lot of
friends in common so I decided to sign him on." Tito narrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"That
was a mistake o!" I cut in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Are
you telling me? It was the biggest mistake of my life. This guy was smooth. He
started passing comments on all my posts and liking all my pictures. One day he
sent me a mail commenting on my name. He was always so familiar that I would
have sworn that I knew him. He asked for the meaning which I told him."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“That's
not strange, please! People always want to know the meaning of your name." Esther said. "It was your name that got me attracted to you in Uni now
remember?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Yes I know
and that was why I gave him audience. Anyway, one day, we chatted on Facebook
about issues going on in Nigeria that was when he told me he lived in America.
Shortly after, he started mailing me regularly. Sometimes, I responded but most
times, I ignored him. About the time of my birthday, he said he wanted to get
me a gift. He kept on pestering me on what I wanted but I just felt that he
could get anything without making a big fuss out of it” Tito said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“So,
don’t tell me you turned down the offer? Ore, wetin dey do you now?” Esther
inquired<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Why
don’t you just exercise patience and let her finish this story.” I answered
Esther getting mildly irritated by her interruption.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Anyway,
after much persuasion on his side, he decided to send money to me to buy either
a Samsung galaxy, a watch, or an Ipad.” Tito continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Ore</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">, you have collected <i>awufu</i>. Where is the money?” Esther
interrupted again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Wait
now, he sent fifty thousand naira. Of course, since all the items he suggested
was far more expensive than what he sent, I bought myself a BB.” Tito explained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Yuck!”
Esther said squeezing her face into an ugly shape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Well I
needed another BB at that time and I still had change to do some other things
that needed to be taking care of.” Tito replied defensively. “But you know, he
now had access to my phone number. He would call endlessly that I began to
think that the guy must have issues.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Isn’t
that a sign that he cared?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Esther
snickered “Ose has come with this her mushy-mushy emotional stuff o!” she
mocked<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“No, I
don’t think so. Anyway, I didn’t see it that way because I was irritated by
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Irritated?
That sounded more like devotion to me.” I said ignoring the horrible look
Esther shot my way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“The guy
is overbearing and boastful. He said he was going to buy clothes for me and I
wondered what the cheek! Someone I don’t even now”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“He has
no class. But you can’t blame him that’s what most guys use in luring young
girls into a clandestine relationship.” Ose said knowingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“He told
me his whole family lived in Canada and America. Only for him to gist me about
his immediate elder sister who was living in his village somewhere in Ekiti.”
Tito said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Just
trying to impress you now.” Esther said chuckling to herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Why
didn’t you ask him why the sister was living in Nigeria now? Ok, maybe because
she is married to a local.” Esther said as we all burst into laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“The man
can boast! He told me he wanted to buy a house in Ikoyi that I should find out
the cost when I complained about my area of Lagos.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh! Na
wa for you o! But Tito, you are a slacker. You could have turned him into a <i>maga</i> and collect all the stuff he was
trying to shove down your throat.” Esther laughed clapping her hands the way
she does anytime she is excited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“<i>Ore</i>, I was just amused by it all. All
the lies. How he has properties at the Caribbean and that’s where he would love
to take me on a vacation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh yeah!
Which one Barbados?” I asked as we all laughed with tears rolling down our
eyes. I held on to my side because I didn’t know such people still existed.
Telling unintelligent lies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Look at
you guys, he sent me website of universities I can go there o!” Tito said as we
all burst out laughing again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“You tell
am you want to go school?” Esther asked almost choking on her laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"He even said he would set me up in business, give me a car and a driver." Tito said sighing. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Hey! How you go turn down such a juicy offer!" Esther exclaimed holding her head. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTRpj-8azowML5vqWvmEpINYsz44T65ondwxNUDP2QsuUewPitd" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“One day,
I tried to find out about his family but he was non-committal so I left him but
that was an indication that he was married. After a while, he would only call
at odd hours and very infrequent. One day, he explained that he was very busy
with his tax returns. So I asked in January? He said he liked to start early
and this may take him till April before he would be less busy but I see his
comments on Facebook all the time. After a while, I got fed up of all his lies
and just ignored his messages and calls.” Tito said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“You
could have being more patience with him maybe he was truly serious about these
tax returns thing.” I said chuckling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Is he
running a conglomerate? He is a community nurse for goodness sake and that’s if
he is what he claims he is and not doing bootlegging.” Tito said sniggering<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Ha! You
have serious badbelly for this guy o!” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“I do! I
don’t like anybody taking me for a fool” Tito replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“But
seriously, it pained me that you didn’t collect the trailer load of stuff that
he was going to send from America. At least you will give me some thing now.”
Esther said pretending to be upset.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"Even the car and the driver! By now we would have being doing madam Tito!" I replied mocking her</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“You are
not both serious." Tito responded laughing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"But seriously, that’s how women fall prey you know. I have
heard stories of some ladies who were duped of their personal belongings.” I
answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Those
girls are crazy. How can you take any guy you meet on Facebook serious? Most of
them are looking for who to devour especially single matured ladies.” Tito
answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“God
saved you o Tito!” Esther said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">"How now?
How you see me so? I resemble <i>mumu</i>? He
is the American <i>Mugu</i> now." Tito
replied laughing.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Image is courtesy of Google Image</i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-24798673647457535602014-03-15T10:02:00.000+00:002014-03-15T12:45:22.037+00:00The Wail of the Siren<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I sat in
the corner of the room listening to Yetunde as she told her story. I was angry
at what she had had to suffer and was infuriated that I and others around her
have being unfair in our judgement of her. I am not one for emotions but tears
rolled down my eyes as I listened to her pathetic story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Yetunde
was some girl I was intrigued by. She was a very pretty girl. She was always
cheerful and had a smile for everyone. Though I didn't know that beneath that
smile was a disturbed child. Yetunde was in her twenties. What attracted me to
her was that she roamed the street as if she had no destination. I was very
curious about her. Boys and men alike hung around her because of her beauty. I
felt a need to advise her about what I perceived as her waywardness. She was
also the topic of discussion for all the middle aged women in the neighbourhood. Though, these women greeted her and always seemed friendly, they
were wary of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I met her
at the salon. I came in to wash my hair. There were a lot of customers present
and I was uncomfortable hanging around for my turn. I had contemplated leaving
and coming back another time but I knew I may find it difficult to come back.
As if she sensed my discomfort, Yetunde decided to allow me to take her place
while she waited. I was surprised at her gesture and wanted to turn her down
but she insisted. I felt grateful for this act and I expressed this to her. We
started a conversation after this and long after the salon incident she would
always stop to greet me. I was very fascinated with her and secretly
wondered about her. One day, she saw me walking down the street and she
approached me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Good
evening Aunty” she greeted curtsying as she did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“How are
you?” I greeted back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> “I am fine.” She responded. I made to continue
on my stroll when she held my hand. “Aunty, I hope you don’t mind. I want to
see you” she said nervously. I stopped to look at her wondering why she wanted
to see me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> ”What is it about?” I asked still wondering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“I need
an advice” she replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Ok then,
let’s go to my house” I replied her. We walked the short distance to my house
in silence. I kept on wondering if I was doing the right thing by taking
someone I hardly knew to my house. We got to my place and I invited her in. She
sat on the sofa while I sat on the single chair. I waited for her to tell me
what the problem was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Aunty,”
she said clearing her throat. I could see she was uncomfortable and I wondered
again what she wanted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I hope
she didn’t want to beg for money. I thought to myself. I waited patiently
though lots of thoughts were going on in my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> “I need your advice, men always want to have
sex with me.” She blurted out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I kept a
straight face since this was no news at all. She is a pretty girl and appeared
unusually friendly with the opposite sex.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> “The point is that I don’t how to refuse them.
Sometimes, I would have told myself that I wouldn’t do it but I just find
myself having sex with them.” I kept quiet pondering how I would manage this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> “I am helpless all the time. I don’t even enjoy
sex.” She said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“So why
do you do it?” I asked puzzled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Aunty, I
really don’t know.” She replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Do they
offer you money or buy stuff for you? Do you think that’s why you do it” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> “I will never sell my body for anything” she
responded harshly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Well, I
am sorry if that sound offensive but I am just trying to find out why you find
it difficult to refuse sex if you don’t enjoy it.” I replied taking aback by
her response.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> “I am sorry Aunty. It’s just that I am aware
people call me a slut in the area and I don’t want you to see me that way” she
replied. I was surprised that she was aware of how people perceived her. “Aunty,
I am no slut. I really want to be a good girl but…”she said hesitant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Her voice
shook slightly and I could see tears in her eyes. She bent her head and tried
to avoid looking at me.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> “I was raped at ten years old” she said
barely audible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“What?” I shouted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“It was not my fault.
I didn’t lure him into it. He would come into my bedroom and caress me. He
promised to give me beautiful things. The first time he did it, it was painful
and I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. After he finished, he told me
not to tell my Aunty that he would buy chocolate for me. He did the following
day but I knew what he was doing was wrong and I told him but he said he loved
me. I didn’t want to do it I swear but he made me.” </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She said crying. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Her
eyes looked wild and she was eager to convince me of her innocence. I was glued
to my chair wondering who the “he” was.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I tried telling my Aunty
but she was too hostile, she would not listen to me. She said if she should
catch me with her husband she would kill me. I wanted to tell her that he sneaked
to my room but I was afraid as I had nowhere to go.” She continued crying. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I kept
quiet not knowing what to say. I could
see she was badly damaged.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> “Shortly after, my Auntie’s brother-in-law started
fondling me at night. I suspected he had seen his brother having sex with me. I
tried to refuse him but he threatened to tell my Aunty. I suffered in silence
because I had nowhere to go. When I was thirteen, I got pregnant. I didn’t know
I was pregnant at that time. I thought I had malaria. My Aunty took me to the
hospital where I was told I was pregnant. She beat me blue and black. She accused
me of luring her husband into sleeping with me. She beat me until I fainted. I
woke up the following day in the hospital. I was told I lost the pregnancy but
I am sure she aborted it.” She said sobbing quietly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I sat there with
tears rolling down my cheek listening to her story. I felt like reaching out to
her but I was glued to my chair and really did not have any words of consolation
for her.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> “Yetunde,” I called out tentatively. “You need professional help. This
is beyond me. You need to seek for professional help.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Where?” she asked
still sobbing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I believe you need a
psychological evaluation. I believe what those two animals did to you have
affected you.” She sat there sobbing. I got up and held her. This could have
being my daughter. I said to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-19614962301099592082014-02-20T19:53:00.005+00:002014-02-20T19:53:46.934+00:00Troubles of a single lady<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I sat under the canopy watching
as guests arrived at the party. I was too early which was not customary for us
Lagosians. We love to make grand entries so we arrive at parties late in order
to make a statement. I watched as guests arrived in droves all dressed in the
chosen <i>aso ebi</i> of the party which
added colour to the occasion. Nigerian ladies love to dress up. The men were
mostly in <i>buba</i> and<i> sokoto</i>; simply dressed but they all
looked gorgeous. Food and drinks were being served and there was a huge array
of dishes from the regular dishes like fried/jollof rice and pounded yam to the
ceremonial dishes like <i>ofada</i> rice,
yam portage, <i>ewa aganyin, tuwo</i>, <i>amala</i>, fish and <i>dodo</i> or fried yam chips etc. there was also<i> asun</i> as well as assorted drinks ranging from minerals, beer,
stout, wine and spirits made their rounds. People had their fill. Lagosians do know how to party.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The music boomed while people
greeted on top of their voices trying to outdo each other. The only thing I
hate about these parties was the noise. Discussion was always impossible. I
looked around searching for some of my friends. Then I saw her as she walked
towards my table. A broad smile on her face. “Aunty Ose!” she called out as I
got up to hug her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Titi, it has being ages” I said
as I stepped back to look at her. “You look good” I said admiring her. “Tell me
the secret of your beauty” I inquired jokingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ha aunty, it is God o! Who do I have but God”
She responded laughing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ehn, who is the <i>bobo</i>?” I asked laughing with her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
”<i>Bobo</i>, which <i>bobo</i>, there
are no <i>bobos </i>out there o!” She
replied as she took her seat next to mine. I raised my eyebrow at her to
indicate that I did not believe her. She kept quiet for a while. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Aunty, why do people always
think that you need a man to be happy? Titi asked. “I am always asked that
question everywhere I went and it’s so irritating! People will show some
respect only when you are married.” She said annoyed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was shocked at her outburst. “I
am sorry Titi. I was just teasing.” I replied embarrassed. “I know you are
capable of taking good care of yourself.” I found myself explaining thoroughly
discomfited. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She stared at me with a half
-smile on her face. “I am sorry for my outburst. I know you didn’t mean it that
way but I am just fed up of people asking that question.” She explained. “The
other day, I was with my friend when her aunt asked me when I was going to
marry or if I wanted to become an old maid. Aunty Ose, can you imagine that in
this day and age? My mum queried me on why I changed my name and if I could not
use a compound name instead.” She said exasperated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“How?” I asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You know now, combine my marital
name with my maiden name. I have been divorced from this man for ten years now
and my mum believes I should live in deceit. What more should I expect if my
mother is ashamed of my status.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You know people care and that’s
why they ask these questions.” I said trying to re assure her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I know some people do but most are just
nosy. What people don’t understand is I am not in a hurry to get married. You
know as a young girl one is pressurised into marriage. At every turn you are
reminded that all your mates were married or about to marry. That’s why girls
rush into marriage only for them to wish out of the marriage soon after.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I do agree with you.” I replied.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She grinned at me. “I remember a
joke I read somewhere of a young girl that her aunt made it a point of duty to
remind her that all her age mates were married. Sometimes at marriage
ceremonies, she will walk up to her niece and say, <i>ti e na a de o!</i> The niece suffered in silence for a while until the
day they met at an uncle’s funeral. She promptly looked at her aunt and said, <i>ti yin na a de o!</i> That was the last time
the aunt greeted her that way.” We both burst out laughing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Don’t worry, I know how annoying
this can be but just know that they mean well.” I said still laughing at her
joke. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ha! Titi, long time! Where have
you being hiding yourself?” shouted someone coming towards us. We turned to
look at her. Titi got up to greet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ha! Moni, it has being ages truly o! She
replied hugging her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Titi, you look good.” Moni said
appraising her. “Who has being taking care of you? When are we meeting the<i> bobo</i>?” Moni asked. Titi and I exchanged
looks and burst out laughing while Moni looked confused.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Meaning of Words</b><br />
<i>aso ebi-uniform worn at parties. It is customary for guests at parties to wear the same clothes or headgears</i><br />
<i>buba and sokoto- top and trousers for men</i><br />
<i>ofada rice-rice grown at ofada village in Ogun State. Its prepared in a special way-mostly served in leaves.</i><br />
<i>ewa aganyin- beans cooked in a special way by the aganyin people of Badagry in Lagos</i><br />
<i>Tuwo- rice pudding.Largely eaten by the Northern part of Nigeria</i><br />
<i>Amala- Yoruba meal made from yam</i><br />
<i>dodo- fried plantain </i><br />
<i>Asun-barbecue goat. It is a delicacy eaten by the Ondo people of Ondo State.</i><br />
<i>Bobo- Boyfriend</i><br />
<i>ti e na a de o- we will also celebrate with you</i></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-74018786005857316012014-01-29T14:40:00.004+00:002014-01-29T14:40:53.263+00:00Living My Life Again<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Tomi” I called hesitantly, she
turned to look at me. We were in one of the popular eateries in Lagos. We had
gone shopping and was exhausted both physically and financially. We had spent
so much more than what we budgeted for and I just knew that I would regret it
the following day. We decided to crown our effort by having lunch. Actually, I
had ulterior motives, I had wanted to talk to my friend about her relationship
and I just didn’t know how to brooch the subject. Moreover, she has avoided
talking about her boyfriend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What are your plans for this year?” I asked.
“I mean you and Mr O.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Tomi kept quiet for a while. I
wondered what she was thinking about or maybe she would not say anything as
usual. Tomi had been dating Mr O as we call him for three years now. Nobody has met him and we her friends are
beginning to think maybe he was an imaginary boyfriend coined by our friend in
order to keep us off her back. We were rather protective of her because she had
suffered a lot. Her fiancé had died a week before their marriage and that had
made her shut down emotionally but that was several years ago. We were very happy
when she told us about this man that we have never met. Initially she was very
excited about the relationship. She looked radiant and beautiful and was very
full of life. This lasted for one year. She had since become very pensive and
withdrawn again and I worry about her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I waited patiently for her
response. She played with her fork for a while. Making circles on her plate.
She seemed far off and I wonder if I have not over run my mouth again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ose,” she said.” I have decided
to live.” She smiled and her eyes shone. “I have decided to live my life to the
fullest. I have been afraid for too long. Afraid to live life but now, I am
going to live. I will travel, go out on dates and enjoy my life. If I find love
I will embrace it but if I don’t, so be it.” She said happily. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I looked at her curiously. I
wasn’t satisfied by her answer because that was not what I expected. Tomi held
my hands in her palms. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I am going to be fifty in a
year. I have mourned Ola. I have laid his ghost to rest and I think it is time
for me to live again. It has taken me years to get to this point but I thank
God that I finally did.” She said smiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What about Mr O.” I asked
tentatively. She looked at me and smiled again. “Mr O is there. But Mr O has
developed cold feet. He has commitment phobia” She replied shaking her head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Have you guys broken up?” I
asked now confused. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No we have not. He is my friend and will
remain so as long as he wants.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But…” I said interrupting her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hear me out. She said putting her
fore finger on my lips. He has a choice. He can either get his act together or
the relationship will frizzle out but for me, I am going to go on dates again.
Go to the cinema, travel to all those places I have always wanted to go; do all
those things I have always wanted to do. I am going to cast my net wide, in the
deep ocean as far as I can. I am going to spread my wings. I am going to live
again.” She replied giggling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Then she laughed. She laughed
long and loud. The laugh was very infectious. I joined her laughing loud too
not mindful of the people around us. Then I knew my friend is finally healed. <o:p></o:p></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-13756306704815363312014-01-21T19:16:00.001+00:002014-01-21T19:16:57.890+00:00Shopping for a husbandIt was a very hot afternoon. The heat was too much and as usual NEPA had struck again. I was restless so I decided to pay a friend a visit. My friend, Ronke's house was just a walking distance from mine. Walking in the scrounging sun, I arrived at her house all sweaty. Ronke opened the door for me. "Hi, Ose! How now?" "I am fine" I responded walking into the sitting room. I sat down and as I expected her house was cool as she had her generator on. "Men! this weather is killing" I said. "Hmm Yes o!" Ronke said distracted. She was a bit distracted as she kept on responding to the messages on her phone. I sat there watching the TV. I had started dozing off in front of the TV when she tapped me. "I am very sorry" she said smiling sheepishly. "I can see you are very busy." I replied. "Not so busy except that I joined this dating platform on the internet and since then I have had hordes of suitors." she explained. "Dating site? I asked surprised. I didn't know Nigerians visit the dating site. "Yes o!" she replied excitedly." My friend introduced me to it and I have met a lot of interesting men" Ronke explained. "Please pardon my ignorance but aren't these sites dangerous?" I asked." No, Its actually interesting. I meet all sorts of men there but some of them can be crazy. Like the guy who sent his naked picture to me. I was embarrassed and quickly blocked him. But most guys I have met are very decent." " But why a dating site?" I asked "I can't trust anybody I meet through such a platform" I said. "Ok Ose<i> wetin man go do</i>?" She asked. "See I am in my forties and never been married. All the men I have met are not serious but with this, it is like casting my net wide." She explained. "But you don't know them. What if they are psycho?" I asked worried. "Oh girl, there are a lot of psycho out there. I beg. All I know is that I must marry this year and I have gone out shopping for a husband. "<br />
<br />
"How many of these guys have shown interest and how do you begin to know the serious ones?" I asked still pondering. She left where she was and sat beside me. "Look at this one, he is extremely quiet". "After our initial contact, I have had to do all the calling and maintaining contacts". I am beginning to wonder why he contacted me anyway. It is like he developed cold feet. Look at this "flipping to another picture," he is actually very nice. Always chatty but there is something not right about him. He is too quick to talk about his wealth and I wonder if he has as much as he claims. This is the main person I am interested in." She said showing me his picture and profile. "He is very attentive and caring. We have gone to the extent of arranging to meet each other." She explained.<br />
<br />
Now I wonder what if the guy is not who she thinks he is. What if he's a psycho and probably worst than any of the guys that she has rejected? Well she has to take a risk but is it worth the risk?<br />
<br />divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-13877746265636254002013-08-17T00:09:00.001+01:002013-08-17T00:09:59.401+01:00Ose @ the verandah: My Father, My Hero!<a href="http://osetheverandah.blogspot.com/2013/08/my-father-my-hero-part-1.html?spref=bl">Ose @ the verandah: My Father, My Hero!</a>: It was just dawn and the early visitors had started arriving. This was the case anytime my father was around in Akure from Lagos where...divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-86896846602241407142013-08-16T21:00:00.000+01:002013-08-16T21:15:24.372+01:00My Father, My Hero! <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">It was just dawn and the early visitors
had started arriving. This was the case anytime my father was around in
Akure from<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Lagos</st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>where
he served as a member of parliament. He was in the House of Representatives.
Members of his constituents, family members and associates visited at this time
of the day because it was the best time he would be met at home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The house was already a beehive of
activities, though it was slightly dark outside. It was a cold and wet morning
as it had drizzled a bit during the night. It was a day that one would have
loved to stay in late bed yet visitors defiled that to arrive early to see my
father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The visitors were seated in<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>the living room, <span class="apple-converted-space">discussing</span> about the election that took
place the previous week and the sporadic violence that happened over the
weekend. This discussion went on while the radio was turned to the local radio
station. Everyone wanted to know the result of the Governorship election. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>We the children were busy serving
guests who came in that morning. This was a tradition in my house; everyone who
visited must be fed unless such a visitor declined. Though it seemed like a
normal day, but there was a feeling of uneasiness in the air. My father asked
one of the aides to buy newspapers as the regular vendor had not turned up that
morning. Daddy loved to read his papers first thing in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">One of my father's aides ran in panting.
Everyone gathered around him to find out what the situation was. "Riots
had broken out". He said. "I had to run as fast as I could to warn
you about the impending danger <i>oga</i>". The man said. My father picked the
phone and called the commissioner of police. He dropped the phone after a while
and murmured “I have been betrayed". My mum looked at him anxiously
"Olaiya, what is it?" Before he could answer her, we heard a lot of
commotion outside. We ran to the veranda to see what the problem was all about.
Suddenly, someone shouted "the house is on fire". We all ran
out of the house to the street. My father told us to run for our dear lives. We
started to obey him when we realised that he was not going to try and escape
with us. My sister and I ran back to him. We held his hand and tried to pull
him to follow us. He refused but held my sister and I and told us to run to
safety. "I can't come with you. I am sorry I can't leave my friends and
associate. Their lives are in danger and I can't leave them" he said as he
pushed us gently to go. My mother knelt beside him and pleaded with him but he
refused. "M. E." he said as he fondly called my mother, "take
the children to safety. I can't leave now. I can't leave these people to die
for me. I can't." My mother held his legs and begged him crying.
"Please Olaiya, come with us. Please." He looked at her and gently removed
her hand. "Look at Baba" he said, referring to his elder brother who was
one of the early visitors to the house. "I can't leave him; I can't leave
the other fellows too. They are equally in danger" he said. "I will
escape if I can but I can't let these people to die. I will never be at
peace". He turned to my sister and I, "run, run to safety" he
said in a stern voice. I wanted to say something to him but I knew it was
useless trying to convince him because he wouldn't burg. I looked at him
imploringly but he shook his head. He mouthed to us to go. I pulled my sister.
I turned around to look at him for the last time. He adjusted his glasses with
his index finger, one of his habits. He stood tall, holding a stick. Our eyes
locked. He looked away and I ran for dear life <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-61441958221419201322013-07-01T00:00:00.000+01:002013-07-01T21:33:18.900+01:00A very long period of silence<i>Iwa ju ni oloko yi wa mi lo, eyin ko ni oloko yi wa mi lo, mi omo.</i> Meaning: I don't know which direction the driver is taking me. This song was sang in the 70s by King Sunny Ade -a popular Nigerian musician. As a child, I danced to the beat while the deeper meaning of the song was lost on me. But as an adult, I have often pondered at his reasons for writing the song. <br />
<br />
Sometimes, we go through this period where we simply don't know which direction we are heading to; where everything seem like a blur. I have had my share of this experience in the last one year or so. In the last one year, I felt like someone caught up in a storm or whirlwind. I felt like a rudderless ship. I didn't know which direction I was heading to. I struggled through this period trying to find stability in the whirlwind of life. In the process, I gave up on some things. There was little or no inspiration to do anything. I was living a day at a time as if it was the last.<br />
<br />
One of the thing I gave up on was writing this blog. Friends and other readers have asked why I stopped writing. I had no explanation except a wary smile and some flimsy excuses. However, I have being encouraged from the numerous comments from visitors to my blog. These comments never cease to amaze me. My readers seem to have more faith in my ability than I do. I appreciate every visitor to this blog and all my readers. However, Funke (one of my readers), was one of those who inspired me to get back on track. She called to ask me why I had not being writing my blog and shared how I inspired and impacted her through my blog. (Here I was feeling that I had no impact on my reader), I was surprised and at the same time excited by her phone call. I was highly criticized and chastised by a friend for posting the particular story that inspired Funke. I was advised to delete or re-write the story without barring it all. This was the same story that inspired her to take a decision she had being reluctant to take for a while. Thanks Funke for sharing your experience and inspiring me to continue writing.<br />
<br />
Another person worthy of note is my friend and brother, Seun. He got me thinking. I read some of the deeply and sincerely expressed write-up on his friends. I was deeply moved and jealous (you know how you want to be the only special person in a dear friend's life). I expressed my wish for him to express his feelings about me. He wrote me the most beautiful and sincere message a friend can write. Seun, thank you for giving me my roses while still alive for your words inspired and encouraged me. It lifted the burden of despair.<br />
<br />
I am back for the storm is over. There is now rainbow after the storm. I apologise to my readers for leaving them in the lurch. Watch out for more inspiring stories on this blog.<br />
<br />
Thank you and God bless<br />
Diva Osedivaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-65522014637628544472012-04-22T20:51:00.000+01:002012-04-22T20:59:37.685+01:00Even Men Hurt 2-Never Good Enough<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I looked down
examining my toes. I had being looking at my toe nails since Toye started
telling me about his experience with my friend. I was too embarrassed to look
him straight in the face. I knew things were not okay between Toye and Oyinda
but I never knew that it was this bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">I have known
Toye and Oyinda for over twenty years now. Toye, I can describe as easy going
and hard working, upwardly mobile. He is someone I will portray as loving life
and good things despite his easy demeanour. I met Oyinda through a friend of
mine and we hit it off. Oyinda is very creative and talented. I admire her for
her various talents especially her entrepreneurial skills. She is smart, good
looking and always seems to know what she wants out of life. Oyinda and Toye
met about the same time I became friendly with Oyinda and despite all doubts
and misgivings, they got married. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Fifteen years of matrimony
with two boys, the marriage is threatened. My friend, Oyinda has moved back to
her parents’ house despite all pleading for patience, she is adamant. For some
reasons I couldn’t believe that her husband was as culpable as she would want
me to believe. She did not give any concrete reason for this quarrel which led
to moving out of her matrimonial home
except that Toye was not good enough. I am aware that they have being having on
going issues but I strongly believe that it did not warrant the steps she had
taking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Yoruba speaking
people have a proverb that only a wicked person would judge from hearing one
side of a story.. That’s just the case here. I sat still counting my toes as
Toye narrated his experience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I hurt and I
don’t believe I deserve what Oyin has done. I have done everything to satisfy
her. I rented an office for her and paid three years rent in advance but she
didn’t step into that office until six months ago when the rent was about to
expire. Her anger is based on the fact that I refused to renew her tenancy. <i>Haba!</i> I work hard for my money and I
can’t be wasteful. I tried reasoning with her all these while to go back to
work. Our plan was that she would start work all over again after putting to
bed but she simply told me she could not nurse her child in her office. This office
was not in the public market of Tejuosho but at Adekunle where she had
everything. I paid premium for it but no, it was not good enough. I have
started many businesses for her but nothing seems to work. At the end of the
year, I wouldn’t see either the seed capital or the profit. Even if she did not
make the profit, she should at least let me see the capital. So I made up my
mind. No more after this. I am better investing my money on stocks than
wasting it on a bottomless pit business.” He said angrily “What attracted Oyin
to me were her creativity and her entrepreneurial skills. When I met her she
was so hardworking and serious about her business but that is not the case now.
I really don’t know what she does with her time except she runs around like a
headless chicken.” He continued bitterly “I don’t have a say when it comes to
the children’s welfare. She often takes decisions without consulting me. It
doesn’t even matter if I have objections or if I can’t afford her latest
brainwave. I feel as if my relationship with the children starts and ends with
supplying money. I am like a father Christmas to my own children and I want
more than that. I want a relationship with them. If I correct them when they
are wrong she flies off the handle, if I play with them she sneers that my
language will corrupt the children. With her, I can’t get it right. You won’t
believe I feel inferior in my own house. I never seem to know the right thing
to do. Sometimes, I am at a total loss at what to do.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">He kept quiet
for a while. I looked up to glance at him. All I saw was pain and I felt
tightness in my chest. I felt sorry for my friends and I just wished things
could be different. I wish they could reach out to each other.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">“You know she
slapped me.” He said looking lost and sad. “She slapped me in the presence of
my friends over an imaginary girlfriend. I don’t even know who tells her all
these nonsense. She said she saw a girl in my car. Imagine that!” He laughed
bitterly shaking his head. “I am not boasting. I can have any woman I want in
this <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nigeria</st1:place></st1:country-region>
and beyond but that’s not the type of life I want. I know what it is to come
from a broken home and I don’t want my children to go through it.” He shut his
eyes rocking back and forth. I was afraid that he would cry. I wouldn’t know
what to do if he did. He kept on rocking back and forth. Suddenly he stopped
and stayed motionless for a while. “Toye” I started to say something soothing
to him though I was lost for words but I felt it was appropriate to say something
palliative like “it is well” or “God knows” but he raised his hands indicating
that I should not say anything.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Ose, I love my
wife and I will take her back if she is willing especially because of my
children. I don’t want them to suffer."</span></div>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-22927060617568196092012-04-01T13:36:00.000+01:002012-04-01T13:36:04.850+01:00Even Men Hurt 1-My 'Ariya' Wife<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">There is something about me that attracts a total stranger to me like the bee to the honey. It could be downright embarrassing, sometimes overwhelming but most times humbling. I am truly honoured by a total stranger pouring out his heart out to me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I remember some years back, just a young girl on her first job. I had just collected my first salary and I thought it called for celebration. I got home early enough to go out again. So I changed from my office attire and wore something comfortable. I stepped out of the house and stood for a while trying to decide where to go-not that I had too many options in those days. I pondered on if I should walk down to the stores down the road or visit the snacks bar. I was still undecided when a black Golf car stopped in front of my house. There was nothing unusual about it since my house was on a major road; people usually stopped to ask for direction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">The man in the car let down his window and I peeped in to see if he was someone I knew. “Good evening” the stranger greeted</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Good evening” I replied waiting for him to ask for direction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Can I offer you a ride to where you are going?” he asked </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Oh thank you. I am just going down the road” I replied and started walking away. The man got out of his car and followed me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I can actually drop you wherever you are going” he said persistently. I ignored him and wondered if there was more to this offer. I hated the idea of the man trying to pick me up and I was increasingly getting angry with his pushiness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Actually, I am sorry for harassing you. Let me rephrase, I need to talk to someone” he said sounding very desperate. I turned round sharply to give him a snide remark but what I saw in his eyes stopped me. It was raw with naked pain. This stopped me in my track. I starred at him wondering if it was a plot to “toast” me but the pain in his eyes convinced me that the pain was sincere enough.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I am really sorry but I need to talk to someone desperately. I left my house in frustration because I don’t want to commit murder.” He said anxiously. I kept quiet wondering why he picked me to talk to. I was still a bit sceptical about his intensions though. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I can park my car and we could walk while I talk to you. I am not going to harm you” he said eagerly. I looked at him pondering. Now, I am not a sucker for situations like this but there was something so sincere and hurting about him. Eventually, I reluctantly agreed that we should walk down to the snack bar wondering if I did the right thing. We got to the bar, ordered what we wanted and sat down. The bar was somehow empty that day which was unusual since the place was always active. That was the reason I picked the place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I am sure you must wonder why I want to talk to a total stranger but I am going through a tough time at home. I love my wife but she is driving me round the bend and I don’t know what to do about it.” He said “I met my wife in the University but we didn’t start dating until well after graduation. My wife is from a wealthy family and I am from a poor one. I had loved her since University days but I could not bring myself to express my feelings. She belonged to the hip girls on campus and I was just a struggling undergraduate. I did every odd job to see myself through school. I played football. I was on the University team so I was popular. She and her friends used to come around to watch us play but I was scared to approach her. We graduated and went our different ways and I didn’t see her again until the day she walked into the bank where I work. I was excited to see her and believed that God has given me a second chance. I was in a relationship then but I didn’t love the girl. I quickly broke up with her and made an aggressive move towards my wife and luckily enough she agreed. A year later we got married and that had being my undoing” he explained as I kept silent wondering where this was leading to </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“It has being one <i>wahala</i> after the other since we got married. She is spoilt and does not know how to take care of the home and the children. All she is ever interested in is partying. Her weekend starts on a Thursday and she and her friends would go from one party to another and then she gets home so late. I have tried talking to her to no avail, I am fed up” he said looking distraught.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I kept quiet since I didn’t know what to say to him. Somehow, I realised that he just wanted to pour out his frustration.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I got home today and she’s left for one of her parties despite the fact that I banned her from going. I mean she left the children with the housemaid and left me a note that she has gone to a party with her friends at Ilesa. Can you imagine that? I work hard to take care of the family while she is busy gallivanting with her friends. Who knows what they get up to?” He lamented.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I sat there listening to him. I thought of what to say to him but was lost for words. I knew back then that letting off the steam was good for his soul but I thought I could say something intelligent to soothe his pain but I was lost for words.</span></div>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-10224366205326083542012-03-10T19:29:00.000+00:002012-03-10T19:29:34.194+00:00No Finance, No Romance<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I sat there listening to them talk about everything and anything. They were a rowdy sort but they equally reminded me of my friends and I during university days. We were a rowdy group too. They sat close together at the fast food place. I had gone there to wait for my sister who had gone to shop at the nearest Shopping </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">Center</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">. I hated shopping and I was tired of walking from one shop to the other so I opted to wait for her while she went on to buy for whatever she wanted to get. There were four of them obviously fresh from the university and looking forward to a bright future. They were an excited lot and very refreshing compared to the hostile sun outside, one of the reasons why I decided to sit in the fast food place. At least I would be able to enjoy the air-conditioning before my sister turned up.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">I tried not to listen to them. It was not in my character to eavesdrop on other people’s conversation but they were a boisterous group and I just couldn’t help but listen. “See, I am not going to marry someone who cannot provide for me. In fact, I put guys to test and if I suspect that you’re anywhere near being stingy, that’s the end.” One of them said. She was light skinned and very beautiful. She looked very confident and self assured.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“At least, you have a choice in who you will marry. My parents chose the man for me and he is my mother’s best friend’s son. I have no choice in the matter but the truth is Hausa men take care of their wives. Most often, you are not even allowed to work.” Said one of the girls who probably was from the Northern part of the country.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I can’t imagine my parents choosing my husband for me in this day and age. Not working is out of the question. Why did I spend four years in the University just for me to become a house wife? Ha! I have to work o!” answered the third girl. This particular one looked like a modern day girl with all the modern day determination of girls who wants more to life than being a wife and a mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“What if your husband insist?” asked the light skinned girl <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“<i>Lai-lai</i>, that can’t happen. I am not going to wait for any man to provide for me. I can fend for myself at least that’s why my parents sent me to school.” The determined girl answered emphatically.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Even if I work, earn all the money in this world, the man must provide. It is the duty of the man to provide. How can I respect him if he doesn’t meet his obligations? I beg o!” answered the light skinned girl.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“What if he looses all the money? What will you do? I will marry for love. I believe that marriage is a joint effort, a partnership. It does not matter who provides as long as there is an understanding” argued the fourth girl who had being quiet. She looked rather innocent. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Ha! What has love got to do with the business of marriage?” asked the light skinned girl “You are sure of the old <i>skool</i>” she said and they all burst out laughing. The fourth girl was embarrassed as her friends laughed out loud. Everyone in the fast food place turned to look at them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">I felt compassion for her especially the way her friends laughed at her innocent response. I wish life was that simple but I have since come to understand that nothing was as simple as the four of them thought. In my younger days, my friends and I used to talk of marrying someone who had prospect and is responsible. Being rich wasn’t in the picture but just for him to have prospect. We had since realised that even that may not be enough in safeguarding ourselves from going through financial abuse. I sneaked a look at the young ladies as they continued with their gist. “How nice to be young and free!” I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">I remembered my friends and I having almost the same discussion at one point and all of us feeling very self assured but it has not turned out as we envisaged. My friends, Devotion and Endurance shared their experience with me sometime ago. Devotion met her husband when we were at the university. They were much in love and we were not surprised that they quickly got married after graduation and settled down to marital life. Things were tough financially for them because they were both in a profession that is not as lucrative as being in the telecom or financial industry. Devotion was determined for them to live a comfortable life, so she combined jobs. While her husband just got by with whatever he could lay his hands on. According to her, not once in all their twenty years of marriage did her husband give her house keeping allowance. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Ose, I was always out there looking for what else to do just to make ends meet. I am the man of the house. I wear the trouser and he doesn’t mind. I pay the school fees, house rent, everything. It is scary now that Ifemide my son is in the University and I still have to pick the bills. The children don’t bother to go to him for anything. I suspect that they know I fund everything even though I try hard to cover up for him but they are not fools. I have noticed that Ifemide barely respects him. The sad thing is while, I bring my money home to fend for us he spent his on himself. The little he makes he spends on perfumes, toiletries, clothes, shoes etc. Once in a while, he will buy grocery and that’s all. I have tired to discuss this with him but each time he shrugged it off as if it doesn’t matter. I am tired I just can’t continue” she lamented. “I bear the financial burden of the house. The only thing is he assists with the house chores and allows me to concentrate on my business. Again, he was very supportive when my mother was very sick. I can’t fault him for that but bearing the whole financial burden is excruciating. I just wish he would support once in a while.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">I felt very sad listening to Devotion. I just can’t imagine how a man will feel comfortable allowing the woman to be the bread winner. I felt it was very irresponsible of her husband and I wanted to hug Devotion just to reassure her but I was shocked at Endurance’s reaction. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Devotion, you are spoilt” she said. I looked at Endurance in shock.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> “Why are you being insensitive?” I asked disgusted with her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Look, Devotion is lucky. If I was married to her husband, I would rejoice and willingly do everything for him.” Endurance replied. I starred at her astonished. I have always felt Ed was a feminist who will not take such nonsense from any man. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“How?” I asked. Sometimes, it is difficult to know when Ed is serious<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“You surprise me Ed. Are you saying that my complaint is unfounded?” Devotion asked obviously hurt. I can imagine how she felt after all, girls should stick together. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“No I am not saying that. All I am saying is that you are luckier than I am. I am worst off. Just like you, I pay all the bills which include the house rent. I provide meals, clothe him. I mean I do everything, absolutely everything in the house and I end up being abused and unappreciated. See, Bennie will not lift a finger to do anything in the house. You see what upsets me most is that he would invite his friends over once I left for work and they would have a feast without any regard for the fact that I am the sole provider.” Endurance narrated. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Common Ed, how did you get into this? You were a no nonsense person back in the University days.” I asked shocked at her story. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on"><i>Ore</i></st1:state></st1:place>, <i>na so dem they ask person</i>. We didn’t start out like that. In fact, we both contributed our quota the first year of our marriage at least financially. Then he got retrenched from his place of work during the financial sector wahala and I took over the responsibilities. After all, it wasn’t planned and I felt he would soon get another job. One year has turned to ten years now and I am the one still bearing the financial responsibility. I asked him to get a job but he said he would rather go into business. The business is more of a curse than a blessing o! Bennie is always claiming that his clients owe him. Even when I assisted him to get a project in my office, he still turned round to abuse me. In fact, he almost got me into trouble because the job was so badly executed.” She said <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I am sorry to hear this” I said <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I never finish <i>ore</i>. He borrowed money from me to execute some projects. He never paid back. I better not ask him for the money if I want peace <i>o</i>. Anyway, one day, I got tired and asked for a heart to heart discussion. I just couldn’t continue. I mean Bennie was going to run me bankrupt. I was doing well career wise but my account was in red. The man was borrowing money from me as if I own Central Bank. So we sat down for this discussion and I told him to get a job and that I had no intension of continuing the way we were. My sisters, that day he told me the story of how my mama met my papa and gave birth to me. He abused me so much that I was left speechless and confused. So, I decided not to fund any of his projects again. Since then, life has being hell. At least, Dev, your husband helps with the house chores, Bennie, is too macho to even lift a finger to do anything. You know because I refused to fund his entire bogus projects, he chased my younger sister back to my parents in a house I pay the rent. If I talk, he will say it is because I am richer than him. You know what I found out recently, Bennie has a landed property in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Lagos</st1:place></st1:city>."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Ha!” echoed Devotion and I<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Yes, I almost fainted when I saw the receipts and other documents relating to the property in his name. I have being a fool o!” Endurance said. Her voice shook slightly and her eyes misted with tears. I felt extremely sorry for my friends. I could feel their pains.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“This is so unfair. Your story reminds me of my friend Lovelyn. Dev you remember her now. We came to your office together.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Oh yes that’s true. What about her?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Her situation is so pathetic that my heart bleeds for her. Her husband starves her of funds. He drives luxury cars while my friend jumps on buses. She used to work in a bank and she was the sole provider for a long time while the husband was jobless. She did everything to make him feel comfortable but the sad thing is the husband turned mean immediately he got a job in one of the telecommunication companies. He started doing well, unfortunately, she lost her job. They both decided she should stay back home and take care of the kids but that has being her undoing. Her husband uses money to manipulate her. Anytime, they had a slight disagreement, he would starve her of funds. She told me she was so disturbed one day that she asked him why he felt she deserved to be treated the way he treated her since it was a joint decision for her to stay at home. You know he told her that she maltreated him while he was out of job and so it was his turn. Lovelyn told me, she used to give him her salary and he would only give her some stipends to spend during the month. She stopped giving him her salary the day he slapped her for spending out of her income to buy a pair of shoes without his knowledge.” I narrated<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Women dey suffer o!” Devotion said. “No wonder she looked so sad and forlorn. I was going to ask you about her after that time you came to my office because of how dejected she looked”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“She is very unhappy. She looked for a job but you know how our environment is. It has being very difficult. She tried going into business but her husband frustrated her. He would promise to assist her and at the last minute he would change his mind for no apparent reasons. He has the money to give her as seed capital but just simply refused.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“What do we do as women? How do we free ourselves from this mess? We started out so hopeful but….” Devotion said despondently <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“But you know this is a form of abuse. In fact it is called financial abuse.” I said<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Abuse? How? Who has ever heard of financial abuse?” Devotion asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Ose you don start o! What is it with pycho analysis?” Endurance asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> “This is a form of abuse that comes in different ways. The most common is when the husband because of his financial muscle, denies his wife access to funds like Lovelyn. The idea is she will not be financially empowered as he is so that she can be permanently subjected to him. He denies her of funds or just gives enough not to starve her and the children but never enough for her to have extra. In most situations, she is not allowed to work or be employed in any way. This kind of abuse is most prevalent in the society. This is why most women will never agree to become home makers because it is a job that does not attract financial empowerment. Sometimes, the woman is subjected to sub human behaviour just because she is at her husband’s mercy.” I explained “The other type is what you guys are going through. The truth is that it is often subtle at the initial stage and as women, we often start out wanting to assist but we surely get our fingers burnt.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“You know you are right. I started out wanting to cover up for Bennie because he lost his job and I didn’t want it to affect his self esteem” Endurance replied<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“It didn’t really matter to me who was doing what. I just wanted us to be comfortable and live well. Moreover, I didn’t want Ifemide to suffer so I worked hard to provide for the family. “Devotion said quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I know what you mean. Don’t blame yourself because you meant well for your family. The point is that men who behave like that are often opportunist. They can also be emotional and physical abusive.” I explained <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> “I don’t know what to do now. Ose what can I do?” she asked eagerly <o:p></o:p></span></div>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-18281155144309444582012-02-26T10:04:00.001+00:002012-02-26T10:04:21.270+00:00Is Marriage to be Endured<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">It was another long weekend because of the public holiday declared by the Federal Government. Though I had mixed feelings concerning the holiday but I planned to make the best use of it by lazing around and watching as many movies as I could. I had borrowed some Perry Tyler’s movies from a girlfriend. As I settled on my sofa to watch one of the movies, my door bell rang. I reluctantly got up from the sofa to check who it was. I opened the door for my neighbour, Edith. “How are you?” I greeted her as I opened the door for her. “I am fine. What are you up to? She asked as she sat down. ”I am about watching a movie.” I replied her as I pressed play on the remote control. “What’s the title of the movie” She asked making herself comfortable. “It is ‘Diary of a Mad Black Woman’ It is a .Perry <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tyler</st1:place></st1:city>’s movie” I replied as I settled back on the sofa. We were both engrossed in the movie. Though we laughed as we watched it but it was a story line that we could both relate to. We were quiet as the movie came to an end.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> “What an interesting story? I wonder why any man would treat his wife like that. To think he now expected the same woman to come back to him just because she took care of him and didn’t leave him to the dead” Edith said analyzing the movie we just watched.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Men can sometimes be assuming. Can you imagining? She tried o! That, wife tried!” I replied. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Well, that’s what a good woman should do.” Edith said</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Why?” I asked angrily. “Why should it always be the woman who has to be understanding or good?” I questioned sharply. I didn’t mean to be sharp with her but I am just tired of the over expectation from women. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Well, I just …..” I cut in as she started to reply me. “I am sure you would have wanted her to go back to her ex husband </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Well, God hates divorce” She replied</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“That’s the usual line. God hates wickedness, adultery and any form of meanness” I answered her. I was already getting irritable with her. I wonder why women love to play ostrich.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I know but sometimes, we may have to turn a blind eye to some of these things that is if one wants to keep her home” she answered imploringly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Please” I said rolling my eyes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I laid back on the sofa thinking. I believe marriage should be enjoyed and not endured. A lot of women are stuck in a loveless marriage simply because the society expects them to endure it no matter what they may be going through. The woman is often told not to abandon her home because she is the one that is responsible to make the marriage a success. A friend was once advised to be like a shock absorber for her home. The gentleman offering this counsel forgot that even shock absorber wears out and sometimes needs a replacement. In <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nigeria</st1:place></st1:country-region>, a woman is often blamed for whatever goes wrong in her marriage or even a relationship. She is often admonished to be patient and not allow another woman to replace her. She may be ostracised if she decides to walk out of a loveless marriage. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Meanwhile, the man is made to believe that he can do and undo; the lord and master of the woman. Unfortunately, it is equally the woman who has created the monster who has become the bane of our lives. The woman has being informed right from childhood that she has being created to serve the men folk and often reminded at every given opportunity that the man is her covering, her crown and without this covering; she will not amount to much. However, what kind of covering is a man who cannot meet the needs of his family? What kind of covering is an adulterous and lecherous husband giving his wife except that of a venereal disease?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I was once told of a woman who caught her husband in bed with her housemaid. She ran to her mother for succour and she was promptly bundled back to her husband with the clear instruction to go and sleep with her husband because according to her mother, “she must have failed in her marital duties” When the case got to her mother-in-law, the poor wife was advised to carry her cross since the lecherous behaviour was hereditary. Her father-in-law behaved like that and so she had to live with it since her mother-in-law was able to manage the situation and at the age of 70years the mother-in-law could not hire a housemaid because of the fear that her husband may harass the poor maid.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">What should a woman do in this kind of situation? Follow her mother’s advice and simply go and have sex with her husband? Would that make her a happy and fulfilled wife? Would that change the husband and make him more responsible, respectful and less adulterous? Does it mean that the fact that the man defiled the matrimonial bed should be overlooked and he should be trusted? As much as I don’t believe that the solution to every marital problem is divorce I equally do not subscribe to the fact that a man is simply excused of his bad behaviour and shrugged off as part of being a man. Imagine if a woman was caught in the act? Will the mother advise the son to manage her because it is hereditary and should go home and have sizzling sex with his wife because he failed in his husbandly duties? Oh no! The woman becomes the scorn of the society just because it is expected that she is better behaved than her husband. What about what is good for the goose is equally go for the……</span></div>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-14555586602595277302012-02-14T08:34:00.000+00:002012-02-14T08:34:34.057+00:00My Mystery Lover: The Lover I Crave For<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">We laid on the beach. The sand was very white and shinning. The sea was clear blue. I had never seen anything like that before. It was a cool night. The wind blew quietly and I could hear the gentle and soothing thud of the waves against the beach sand as the waves rolled gently against the beach bank, lazily depicting the mood of the night. Everywhere was quiet and calm. The rays of light from the surrounding building reflected on the sea which provided the necessary illumination for the area. There were other lovers on the beach since it was Valentine’s Day but I was oblivious to what was going on. I was alone in my world. The world only my lover and I share. I nestled into the hands of my lover. He stroked my hair and I rested my head on his chest. He whispered into my ears, “It is going to be okay.” Somehow, I felt assured and I relaxed in his hands. I snuggled closer. I had never felt anything like this before. I was very comfortable in his assurance that everything was going to be alright.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I have known my lover for a while but I have never seen his face. I love everything about him. He makes me feel special and calls me the apple of his eyes. I am his princess, his bride but he has never allowed me to see his face. I wonder why and I am very curious though I feel vey safe in his hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I nuzzled into his hands. “What is the problem? Are you okay?” He asked concerned. He is always alert and highly perspective. He is quick to know if there is anything disturbing me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">“Not really” I answered. I paused and he waited patiently for me to continue. “You know I love you” I said. I felt his nod and I was encouraged to continue. “I really want to see your face. That’s the only gift I want from you this Valentine’s Day”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">He was quiet and for a second, I thought I had lost him. I reached out to touch him, I held his hand. I felt reassured that he was still near me and I waited. There is one thing I have learnt from my lover-patience. I waited patiently for him because I was so comfortable in his love for me, I did not mind the silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">After a while, he spoke but it was like a whisper. He sounded so far away that I had to strain my ears to hear him. I moved closer to him. We were now flesh to flesh. I could feel his warmth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">“My love,” he said, “Why do you want to see my face?” he asked gently. “I offer you protection, I provide for you. I love you with my whole heart and unconditionally, never judging you. I can do anything for you. Isn’t that enough? Don’t you trust me enough to know that you don’t have to see my face? Don’t you believe that I will always be here for you? Be with you, go everywhere with you without intruding in your space? Others might have let you down but I promise to be with you always” he said reassuringly and I smiled. My heart bursting with the love I have for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">“I will comfort you when you are down, console you when you are sad, protect you from any danger, teach you the right way to go so that you will not miss it in life. This is my promise to you and it will never fail. I will always be with you. My love, you will see my face but not now” he said lovingly. I rested in the comfort of his love and I know that once, I have someone who truly loves me. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I didn’t want the night to end so I held him closer burying my head in his chest. I wanted to touch him to let him know how deeply I feel for him. I felt the gust of air and I wondered why I felt cold all of a sudden. I opened my eyes and alas I was on my bed dreaming again of the love I yearn for.<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-27456947569389849982012-02-10T18:30:00.000+00:002012-02-10T18:30:31.340+00:00Tina Turner - I'm Ready<iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qmt4PgowKA8?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-84342144928902173322012-02-10T18:21:00.000+00:002012-02-10T18:21:26.428+00:00Tina Turner - I Don't Wanna Lose You<iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pLj5sBfGuQY?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-79771171408491531682012-02-06T18:18:00.000+00:002012-02-06T18:18:34.056+00:00Ada’s Quandary<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I had just finished a session on Assertive Skills. We broke for tea/coffee and it was a perfect time for me to catch my breath. I went to the coffee table and poured myself a cup of tea. I wanted to rest my feet since I had the whole day to facilitate. I should mingle with the participants but having to facilitate a whole day takes it toil on me and every available second to rest is a welcome one. I had 30minutes of break to stretch my legs. I put my cup of tea on the table while I flipped through my presentation. “So far so good” I thought to myself. “I have managed my time very well so far and I will be glad if I can finish before the allotted time. I wonder if I would be able to achieve this” I thought again. “The class is vibrant and full of energy. Whenever it is like this, it could be a bit tricky trying to stick to time.” I thought as I flipped through the pages trying to familiarise myself with the presentation.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Good morning” one of the participants greeted me. I looked up from my presentation to see who it was. “Good morning “I answered her. I remembered her as I smiled at her. I had noticed her in class. Though, she did not make any contributions to the topic we just had but I noticed she was very attentive and interested in what I said. She took time jotting a lot and I had observed that she was very fascinated with the topic. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“My name is <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ada</st1:place></st1:city>” she said introducing herself. “I enjoyed the class we just had and I have some questions that I want to ask if you don’t mind” she said shyly. “Oh! It is ok. Please feel free to ask me any question.” I said smiling but moaning to myself that my 30minutes of peace had just gone. I may be lucky though and she may not take up all the time. I thought hopefully. “I have this problem. I am not assertive at all and I have found out that people tend to take me for granted” She said. I waited for her to continue wondering where this was leading to. ”I have a problem with my husband” she whispered as she looked around. “I am at my wits end and I really don’t know what to do.” She said glumly. I really didn’t want to dabble into anybody’s private matter but she looked so disturbed that I had to ask her what the problem was. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“My husband humiliates me. In fact, he enjoys humiliating me. I really don’t understand how to put it.” She paused and I waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts because I knew it must be difficult for her as she must be suffering enough to want to share this with a total stranger “Let me say that sometimes he would decide not to talk to me for no apparent reason. When I try to find out what could have gone wrong, he would not answer me but acted as if he was a wounded lion. The more I try to find out the more he withdrew into his shell and this could go on for weeks. Whenever he decided that he was ready to talk, he would simply tell me to check myself. I really don’t know how to handle this type of malice. Also, he puts me down in front of our friends and family, worst still, in front of the children. I have tried to raise the issues with him but he ignores me. He believes everything is my fault and I should examine myself.” She said looking embarrassed but deeply hurt and perplexed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I looked up to the heavens for help. “How do I begin to counsel this woman?” I thought to myself. “Has he always being like this? I mean even during courtship?” I asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Not exactly. He used to be moody a lot when we courted but this public disgrace is new. The point is, it is getting worst. He bad mouths me amongst our friends, claiming I am no good. He would call my parents and come up with all sorts of accusations even if for all I know at that particular time, we had no disagreement. You will not believe the number of times we had to go for family meetings to sort out one problem or the other. I believe that we should not wash our dirty linen in public so I kept quiet most of the time. Moreover, I don’t have energy for all the allegations. I often get embarrassed by all the things he got to say, so I keep quiet. Now, I am being viewed like the wicked person. Do you know that he wept the other day at my uncle’s house when we went for yet another meeting? I am asking myself some questions here. Am I a wicked person?” She asked anxiously. I knew that was rhetoric because I didn’t know her at all to determine that but I realised that she was really troubled and needed to talk to somebody<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“First, I think you should stop taking the fall for everything that happens in your marriage. Remember, it takes two to tango.” I said. “There are deeper issues here which I believe you and your husband should sit down to discuss.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I have tried to discuss this with him” She cuts in. “This has not worked out in anyway. He ends up blaming me for everything and anything. I try to satisfy him in everyway but the more I try, the more dissatisfied he becomes. He criticizes everything I do. I am never good. I try really. I do try. I don’t know what to do. I am desperate here. I want my marriage to work but I don’t know how to make it work” she cried out. I looked around a bit uncomfortable with the discussion. I realised I may not be able to advice her as she wanted. By this time, other participants were back in the class.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“You know what; can we meet during lunch break? Unfortunately, I have to continue with the presentation. I asked reaching out to her. I patted her hand and hope that the next topic, Building Positive Self-Esteem may address some of her issues.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I looked at her as she went back to her seat. I had no clue on how to help her. I am no marriage counsellor but I am used to the position of ‘one size fits all’ most participants tend to put facilitators especially if you are handling a topic that addresses both personal and official life. I concentrated on starting the class somehow wishing that she would not come back to me during lunch break.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I finished my second presentation just before lunch break. I was a bit preoccupied with how I was going to handle the problem <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ada</st1:place></st1:city> presented to me. We had enough time before lunch. I knew I should seize the opportunity of the break to rest since I had two more sessions to go but I couldn’t get <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ada</st1:place></st1:city> off my mind. I sat down wondering why many marriages were failing at the speed of light. From what <st1:city w:st="on">Ada</st1:city> told me, it was easy to blame <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ada</st1:place></st1:city>’s husband but I know that issues in marriage are not always clear cut. I waited patiently for her to approach me again. I looked at her as she approached my table. ”Madam, I hope you don’t mind my disturbing you like this?” She asked shyly. I shook my head. I gestured to her to take the seat close to me. I guess I was doing my one good deed for that day at least if she leaves the class feeling better then, I would have achieved a lot. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ada</st1:place></st1:city> took her seat and kept quiet. I realised she wasn’t going to talk unless I prompted her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ada</st1:place></st1:city>?” I said tentatively “I quite appreciate the trust you have in me for you to share something as private as this. “<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I really do appreciate you. I am usually not like this but I am overwhelmed as it is. I am lost at what to do. I didn’t bargain for all these. I had hoped for a beautiful marriage. My father was wonderful and very attentive. I had prayed for that kind of marriage but alas!” she said heaving a deep sigh. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“There is nothing wrong about hoping for a beautiful marriage especially if your parents made a huge success out of theirs. The truth is that marriage is hard work and both parties must be willing to make it work. Unfortunately, in our society, it is often believed it is the duty of the woman to make the home. We women are often blamed for whatever goes wrong in our marriage. We carry the burden of making our marriage work when there is a lot out of control. We try hard to make it work forgetting that it is the responsibility of both parties. We are often told the woman makes the home and because we have being brought up to believe such, we do everything including spoiling the man to the point of creating a monster.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“A monster? How?” she asked perplexed<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“It is what we do unconsciously. It starts form the courtship stage when probably out of love or because we just don’t want to topple the apple cart, or just too desperate not to fail, we accept whatever is dished out to us believing that things would change once we are married. Things don’t ever change. My advice to you is, you need to set boundaries and make it clear that there are things you would not take. For example, whenever he goes into his ‘not talking mode’, leave him. Give him space. Do whatever you have to do as a wife but don’t go fidgeting around him. He does it so often because he knows it gets at you. You have to be the matured person here. Be calm and control your emotions. Do not disrespect him in anyway and don’t show any sign of anger. Just take it that he needs to work out his emotions.” I said “You should be more emphatic when you are expressing your beliefs and opinion but at the same time have respect for his opinion. “ I advised. “Keeping quiet in the face of his accusations is agreeing to them. I am not saying you should join issues with him but you need to state your side as clearly as possible. Whatever you do, do not accept responsibilities for what you didn’t do.” I continued. ”You are not responsible for anybody’s happiness. His choice to be either happy or sad is way beyond your control. You can only try. You need to communicate more. Communication is an essential ingredient in any relationship.” I said to her holding her hands. “Basically, what I am saying is that you need to be more assertive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Do you think things would change if I do all these?” she asked apprehensively.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“It is not a magic wand and it takes more than you to make your marriage work but I know that if you lovingly change your attitude towards him, things may change. I really don’t have all the answers but I pray that things work out for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-28895574598088417482012-02-03T19:16:00.000+00:002012-02-03T19:16:23.928+00:00Tina Turner - I don't want to fight no more<iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LoNXsne8exg?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167272838474555438.post-4370859532395249132012-02-01T20:17:00.000+00:002012-02-01T20:17:37.276+00:00Love: A Game of Emotional Manipulation<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">We sat in my sitting room watching one of those Ghanaian movies. It was a pleasant but lazy afternoon. My friends, Uduak and Yetty had visited since we were forced to stay at home because of the nationwide strike and protest. We had nothing to do and there was really nothing interesting to watch apart from the movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">There was nothing spectacular about the plot of the movie. The same old love story of a woman who married a much older man and fell in love with her step son. I watched the movie half heartedly while I read a novel which I was reading a second time. I was bored with the movie. I looked at my friends and saw how they concentrated on the movie as if their lives depended on it or there was going to be an exam on the plot after viewing it. I smiled to myself as I tried to get back to the movie. “Love is a game, sex is the real thing” one of the actors in the movie said. The statement got my attention. I pondered on it wondering how true the statement is.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“<st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><i>Ore</i></st1:place></st1:state>, “I called “is that statement true?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“What statement is that?” Nduak asked as if she just came back to planet earth<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Love is a game, sex is the real thing” I replied<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Why are you fascinated with that statement? Yetty asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Because I am a romantic by nature but I am beginning to wonder if love is actually real” I said<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Ah! I don’t believe in love or let me rephrase, I used to believe in love but I now, know better. Love is just a word that’s touted about. It is a cliché that has being abused. People use it because they want something from you or just get in between your legs.” Nduak said. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“You have become jaded.” I replied rolling my eye balls. “If you don’t believe in love how come you have stayed married for the last twenty something years?” I asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Haven’t you heard? What’s love got to do with it” Nduak sang in her croaky voice and we laughed.” Honestly, love has nothing to do with it. I married my husband because I got pregnant. Our relationship, even when we courted was filled with emotional manipulation and verbal abuse. I ran away to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region> when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want his <i>wahala</i> so I took off. But he came after me pleading and apologetic. Since I didn’t want to be a single parent, I agreed. Really, being a single parent twenty-five years ago was a taboo and my parents didn’t help either; insisting that I had disgraced the family. I had to weight all my options and I married him”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“If you didn’t love him, why did you stay with him all these while?” Yetty asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Where will I go with my broods? How am I to manage with six children? I beg, I stayed because of my children. I know staying with my husband will give them a good life. Look, nothing has changed since I met my husband. As a matter of fact, things seem to get worst. But I have developed my coping strategies. I just pray that my children would not make the same mistakes.” Nduak said<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I believe you must feel something for him. No matter how small.” I said not wanting to believe that she was not romantically inclined towards her husband<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Yes, I feel something, which is more of dislike. My friend, love is a game o! We all pretend to love but half the</span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">time…..!” She left the sentence hanging, paused and continued. “Do you know that sometime, I have sex with him so that I can get some money from him? With him, money is the instrument of manipulation for me, my body is. Now tell me, how am I better than the common hooker on the street except that I have</span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">only one customer, my husband. We have both perfected the act of emotional manipulation”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I was taken aback by Nduak’s outburst. I never knew she felt like that towards her husband. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"> “You try my friend” Yetty commented.” This is why I have refused to marry. I was in love once. I dated this guy for ten years. I gave him everything and did everything in my ability to make him happy and comfortable. I had money so that was not an issue. I didn’t have any problems taking care of his needs. I loved him so much that I just wanted to see him happy and he capitalised on that. I ended up being responsible for all our financial needs. I was manipulated in everyway one could imagine. Everything was my fault and I was made to believe that I could not do anything right. The more I tried to satisfy him, the more dissatisfied he became. Ah! How I tried. I sacrificed everything for him. After a while, I thought if I got pregnant things would change or at least, improve. I stopped using the contraceptives hoping to get pregnant. I tried but nothing happened. I visited my gynaecologist and I had to undergo the most painful and horrific medical tests that I didn’t wish on my enemies. I had some problems really but according to my doctor, nothing to prevent me from getting pregnant. At the same time, I started talking to him about us getting married. We had spent 10 years together and my parents were no longer comfortable that we were living together without him making an honest woman out of me. He refused initially when I broached the subject, insisting that I have to get pregnant before we can tie the knot. I became almost desperate and I signed on for an assisted conception programme which was very expensive but I didn’t mind. It was the condition I had to meet before I got married and so getting pregnant was the only thing on my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">At the clinic, I was asked to invite him for examination and other necessary procedure but he refused saying that I didn’t seek his permission before signing in on the programme. I pleaded with him to see reasons and how was I to get pregnant if he was not going to be cooperative? I was devastated at this point. After a while, he reluctantly agreed to go with me to the clinic but only until after our wedding ceremony but well, we could proceed with our plans. I didn’t understand why we had to wait until after the marriage ceremonies but who cares? Anything to make him happy <i>abi</i>? I was excited and earnestly started putting things together for a ceremony that I was not going to be the bride.” Yetty narrated<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“How do you mean?” I asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh a month to the date of our wedding, he married another girl. I beg! Love?” she said sarcastically.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“That was a really bad experience. Ah! Ten years of a relationship? Only for him to marry somebody else? I just can’t fathom it” Uduak said<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Why did you court for such a long time?” I asked<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Long or short courtship doesn’t really matter. We met at the University then in my prelim and we dated all through University. Moreover, there was always a reason why we couldn’t marry. Again, I wasn’t really crazy about marriage not after watching my mother go through her gruesome experience with my father. I just didn’t want to go through all that <i>wahala</i> but what happened? Please I don’t believe in love again o!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“So what are you doing with mystery lover?” I asked. We have taking to calling her recent boyfriend that because she has refused to introduce us or disclose his name to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“My mystery lover? Hm!” she giggled mischievously. “That one is another story. You know, I have known him all my life technically. Actually, he was my first boyfriend. We didn’t quarrel but we lost contact until two years ago when we saw each other again. He started showing interest in me and I thought well, let me give him a chance. I mean he has had his bad experience too and I expect him to have learnt from his experience but alas! Initially, he was very devoted and I actually started feeling something akin to love. I believed in him and I started opening up to him. However, he is comfortable now and he has started the game of power and emotional manipulations that men tend to use in relationship. You won’t believe that he gets angry at every little thing and sometimes, will not pick my calls or call me for weeks and he expects me to know through some astral means what could be biting him. Am I a witch? I don’t have energy for this emotional manipulation. I am a grown woman and I can’t deal with a man who has refused to grow. I care but I am not treading the road I took before.” She concluded.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I kept quiet for a long time pondering at the experiences of my friends. I have had it rough too but I still believe in love. “But who is there to love?” I asked aloud<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Your brother who is probably the sweetest human being on earth but most likely, manipulating his wife.” Uduak answered</span>divaosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476521246981276306noreply@blogger.com17