I could come up with a million reasons why this life is not the sweet smelling flower I long it to be.
I could tell you right now that my sorrow has consumed what little hope I reserved,
Yet this sadness lingers and finally swallows me up.
All I see is the darkness and the depth of my soul
Gone so far in ruins that I wonder,
What reason is there left to seek.
Seek what you say?
A flicker of light perhaps, a sound or a ruffle;
Anything that can shake me to life.
Perhaps then, these reasons will dim and their numbers fall
So life can look brighter than I think it be.
Could it be that self-pity and pride have led to my myopia?
Could I really be this sad as to not see how life thrives around me?
Give me reasons to hope...just a little oh mind of mine,
For these walls of misery are wearing me thin.
Look all around oh petty feelings, peer into the horizon and see,
For what you think is lacking, really is there for the taking.
Sweet smelling flower?
What makes you think of life as such?
Even sweet can smell too much and the nose suddenly tires of the fragrance.
Sweet is not the only flavour to life,
Sour and tangy also make life good.
The mixture of all is what creates the perfection we embrace and each term reality.
Now stop! Stop oh soul...are we running away from the fact?
Focus on the subject...you are doomed!
Doomed you say? No! I refuse doom,
Suddenly I have the strength to fight.
Let me fight.
Let me fight for a chance to a life,
Perhaps not quite like the sweet smelling flowers I hoped,
But alas I will still be able to sniff, smell…
Even taste some aspect of life to make me want to stay
Come to think of it, why have I forgotten all that is reason to life?
I have it all around me; I hear them, feel them, smell them
Yet I forget. How indeed did my soul stray so far, that I stopped to think only of me...
Monday, April 9, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Many Faces of Love... Part Two
Continuation from part 1
The happiness of our good fortune came at a very good time for the family. We were able to treat the children and still had a huge lump sum to start over again. The main agenda however, was to get to Nigeria and finalize this thing we started, and perhaps lay a few ghosts to rest.
The thing about having a big family is that it's easy for friends and relatives to dump their kids on you, but you can't do the same. Seriously though, how do you pawn off seven kids on anyone? Funny…huh? You've got to see the humour in this. So we had to look for someone, friend or relative willing to move in for a month or so to help keep an eye on our precious ones. We did not have to look for too long; rescue came in the form of Uncle Femi, Tobe's business partner and brother from another mother.
Our preparations soon began and I got my trousseau according to Victorian standards. Even though I was not quite privileged to their bank balance, I do a mean thrift and vintage that would rival any real fashionista, if you get my drift. All I really needed was a simple but gorgeous gown for the reception and a good Gina...they do great shoes you know. Now there was also the matter of nipping off to Austria for some very fine voil lace for both me and the hubby. As we do it folks, you all know there has to be aso ebis right? That's where my many capable sisters eight in total come in. This was going to be one bad ass wedding and they were hell bent on making it so.
Tobe was still hustling, seriously determined to get this new company of his off the ground and thanks to our newly found mini fortune, he had something to bank on. He left all the organizing to me, said we had to live on something after the big giving. I laughed it off, never quite understanding what he meant, but I did much later when we got home in Naija.
I found the most amazing gown: vintage Dior, but was not so lucky with the Gina. One out of two ain't bad eh. You would never believe the stunner I finally found in Next Bridal. As for the lace, I scoured Liverpool Street. Somehow the hills of Austria did not make much money sense after all, wind fall or not.
As lady luck always followed me, I must brag that I did A-okay with my finds as well. The children were buzzed about the whole wedding thing, though the older ones were a little curious as to why we had to do it all over again. Whatever happened to the Registry over at the Council office, mom, Timothy asked?
His aunt, his dad's older sister had to explain about the traditions, whilst Uncle Femi got the job of promising the others they would all come to Naija next time. "It's not fair mom" the twins moaned in their silly whinny voices..."How come David goes everywhere?" "That's because he's the baby" uncle replies. Duh! Timothy teased.
The house was bustling with the usual crowd of kids dashing in and out, and my in laws who were now frequenting more than usual considering the coming event. Things were been taken care of this but we had to have help on the ground there in Naija and that was resolved by my lovely brother in law David, we named our baby after him. His wife is my little sis Ibuchim but we all called her Buchi. Now these two were typical Lagosians who had their ear to the ground on all the deals both legit and not so.
Between them they handled a lot of the organizing and putting things in place. But even though they steered clear of the not so legit, they knew someone who knew someone if the need ever arose. This time it did, and so they called on the someone who knew someone to handle certain matters.
The family in naija had their own aso ebi and the States side of the family also had theirs. There was still the matter of the in-laws from the Yoruba land...my people or so I thought. Our colour for my birth family was peach and green, my people, the Yoruba's, chose blue and silver and my sisters in naija decided on gold head ties for the Umunna's (relations at large) and Ndi Ibe ( my age group) I will explain later about these .
My mom had to get to naija from the states the same week as me to present a gift to our Umuada (daughters of my linage) to inform them of the upcoming visit for my hand and also plead for their help with cooking for certain members of my clan who would not on occasions such as this, eat food prepared by unworthy hands, no pun intended.
The further along we went with these preparations, the more I came to find out about how this most simple and beautiful tradition we were so keen to fulfil had been adulterated. The whole thing left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth; but everyone else was amused and in good spirits...could be because they had done battle with these people and not only lost, but took great gladness in what they gained in return, their beautiful wives and once lost dignity.
Everything took its toll, between liaising with naija and the states and desperately striving to double up and fill the two deep freezers in our store located in the back garden with 3 different kinds of soups, stews, bean porridge, Jellof rice, Moi-moi, fried fish, meats and chicken. These all had to be individually packaged to serve the kids and uncle for the next 3 to 4 weeks until our return. Other things like the oyinbo food would come from Mac D's or Bugger King and our local chippie. I was definitely swamped, but am not called supermom for nothing; this gal pulled it all off! Nice and neatly delivered and in target time as well...up me!
The last time I attended a wine carrying was back in 05; my oldest sister's. All I had to do was make myself beautiful and show up for the whole shindig; this time around was a different kettle of fish. There was so much to organize; money had to be sent down to David to pre book for the band, pay the caterers deposit and also accommodate the Photographers and video folks. Thanks to internet banking the transfer of funds was easy and as far as other things such as decorations and theme, my capable sisters took care of that.
Here in London, as we put the finishing touches to everything, the days seemed to fly. The children became clingy and the yearning for Naija soon increased in all of them. Having visited back in 04 for my brother in-laws wedding, my darlings were had so much fun and were spoilt rotten by all the relatives; hence their fascination for everything Naija had set in since then.
They remembered the beaches and Mega Plaza, all the Suya and fresh roasted corn; practically living in Ikoyi club, swimming all day. I did not like the idea of leaving them behind, but when you have to cut your coat according to your material, the story becomes different.
The last days before our departure was spent reassuring them that it would not be for long and that we would soon be back. Timothy and the bigger ones however were not too troubled, a little more freedom for them they thought, I'm sure; but surprises lay ahead for them courtesy of good old uncle Femi. Thankfully they were in school the day we left, so all the goodbyes were said earlier in the morning just before they left.
The bad thing about international traveling since 911 is the ridiculous hours wasted on the ground before take off. In this instance, ours was a good 5 hours, this was so not cool especially with a 2 year old. The nightmare of customs and immigration was nothing compared to the horrible transit bus to the plane itself.
I have flown BA all my adult life, but this particular experience left me so frustrated that I made a mental note...never again!
When you are on board an airplane going to Naija, there's a certain atmosphere in it, even before take off that gives off the feeling of being home. Perhaps it's the sudden familiar babbling in our various languages and that crude manner we tend to treat each other, regardless of class or status, courtesy and good manners immediately eludes us...aah...how so sweet.
After the gruesome experience, we are finally settled down and as we taxied for take off, I glance at my Tobe and his expression could not hide his apparent self pity of being in coach...got to love this!.
Take off was good and as the turbulence settled, dinner was served and the cabin crew did their usual magic of clearing up and passengers soon settled for the long haul to Lagos. David soon fell asleep after a bottle and gratefully I placed him in the bassinet. As for me, I was elated to finally stretch out my legs and put my arms around my body in a self hug....okay coach was awful, but it was not the end of the world.
I felt truly humbled sitting between Tobe and an overweight sweaty German who already showed signs of being one of those people who will talk you to death. The good thing though was that he smelled lovely...Armani pour homme; I know that fragrance any day. He was definitely Gay I thought almost happy; if he was a talker as suspected, we would have some real gal talk, lol.
The great thing about night flights was the sleep effect....before long, half our section in the cabin was in snooze-land and the global map on my screen gave our estimated arrival time to be 4hours more.Tobe also finally fallen asleep but my eyes were wide awake. I began to think about home and curious as to how this whole affair would play out.
We had seen a copy of the LIST....this was a list of items and services primarily expected by the groom to deliver to the bride's family. "you are not going to like this David had warned when he emailed it to us, they had asked for everything...from the most ridiculous to the down right stupid. They all but asked for a pound of flesh. He was right, I was livid. I carefully went through the 65 item list and narrowed it to 40. At that number, the total cost was still staggering. Remembering all this, I promptly got it out of my handbag and stared at it once more.
My mother in law screamed "ye kpa " and broke into a banter of Yoruba proverbs about how these Igbo people have turned something sacred to a treasure hunt. I happened to be on the phone with her when she received it. "Mommy! isn't this a plague consuming everywhere in our beloved country?" I said to her amused.
The more I stared at the list the more I began to miss my late father; had be been alive, half the nonsense on this list would not be on it. Tobe's response was just grin and bear it,"after all, we've already begun this journey". David began to stir a little and I gently rocked him back to sleep in his crib. Now would not be a good time to whip out my double D's to pacify him, my little man was still sucking.
Somewhere between self pity and indignation, I too fell asleep. Though I slept for a good two hours, it felt like 30 minutes. I was awakened by the flood of light that illuminated the entire cabin. The cabin suddenly came to life again and the airline staff scurried along with their duty of serving the last refreshments before arrival. Tobe's vegetarian platter looked better than the Ploughman's sandwiches the rest of us in coach got, my opinion of course.
He looked up at me as I reached to grab David and I winked at him. He seemed a lot less tense now and David began to reach for him...our German friend, who simply smiled and stretched his arms towards me. "I'll hand him over" he said between a mouthful.
Our little man happily reached for his outstretched hands and let out the loudest coo....aahh! German guy says smiling as he gave Tobe his son. I got our things together, prepared some formula for David and went to freshen up while others ate in order to avoid the rush afterwards. In the toilet, I splashed some water on my face and dabbed with paper towels. The face staring back at me looked tired, but still hanging in there. Not bad for a 37 year old huh? I thought to myself. I could still recognize that face.
I hastily applied some moisturizer to my face and arms and hurried back to my seat. The crew were already collecting papers and finished snacks...hence the trolley in the aisle. After several minutes of ducking between seats, I finally made it to mine. Tobe had just about finished with changing our little man and our German friend had left for the toilet. For the first time in the entire trip, my love and I were finally alone....at least for the next 3 minutes or so.
Matter of minutes now babes, I said touching his chin; not too late to change your mind. He smiled in that way only he could; eyes twinkling and face lite up "not for a million baby, it's a done deal already" he replied passing David to me.
The entire cabin was now fully awake once more as passengers prepared before the final call to be seated for landing. I mentally took stock of our belongings and where there where stowed. The smooth sound of the Captains voice soon urged staff to be seated for landing and we gradually descended until the thump familiar sound of the wheels hitting the runway could be heard and gradually the speed decreased until we came to a final stop.
The only way to go through disembarking from the plane was with calm and patience,and we did just that. There was no need to get my panties all twisted up so early in the next 2-3 hours of a hellish morning that was just about to be unleashed upon us....welcome to Naija!
The common rituals of immigrations and customs were observed and after many faked smiles, forced parting so to speak with a few Naira; we finally came through the other side. The family had done well in arranging transportation for us and as we wheeled the luggage and stroller down to the parking lot, my cousin Charles and the driver chatted animatedly with us.
After 30 minutes or so, we finally got everything into both cars and Tobe rode with the driver whilst David and I rode with my cousin. It was good to be in Lagos.
Traffic was not so bad and the familiar sights of flyers, billboards and street hawkers was welcome to my eyes.
Everyone is so excited about your Igabankwu, Charles said to me...in fact all the Oborogu people in Lagos are said to be coming to the village also. "really?" I asked.
This was really nice to hear, but I knew it also meant more expenses. The union of my people voting to come home for my traditional wedding was really a big honor. These days folks were not too keen on spending their money, but to paying their own fares to get to the east? This really was a big deal.
We must make sure there's plenty to eat and drink that day sister, Charles continued taking the words right out of my mouth. Yes indeed, we had to make it worth everyone's time.
The journey to my family home in Ajao estate did not take long. The estate was just minutes from the international airport anyway. The old house was still standing...looking old and tired but still standing. As we pulled into the drive, the gates were quickly closed behind us and soon the few relations who lived in the boys quarters all came out to greet us.
Familiar faces; some now wrinkled with age, yellowing teeth and wide eyed grins. It was wonderful to see them all. There was an uncle deported from the soviet union and one who fought in the Cameroon war; I will tell you more about them as we go along. There was sisi Beke (English teacher) she spoke way too much grammar. She was a middle aged family friend, educated in Cambridge, but taught English in a local secondary school...another strange story for later. Then there was uncle BOY...yes boy; that's just what we call him; his wife and 3 daughters made up the rest of the house hold.
Their hugs were genuine and smelly, but it felt good being in their embrace. They all greeted Tobe in a manner typical Igbo in-laws would, the men that is. "Ogor nno o! welcome". Tobe knew them all, and soon the little girls swarmed around David wanting to carry him and of course he did not protest at all.
When all the luggage had been brought in and put away in the rooms, we sat in the lounge downstairs to contemplate on where we would sleep for the night, when we got our official welcome from NEPA...
TBC
The happiness of our good fortune came at a very good time for the family. We were able to treat the children and still had a huge lump sum to start over again. The main agenda however, was to get to Nigeria and finalize this thing we started, and perhaps lay a few ghosts to rest.
The thing about having a big family is that it's easy for friends and relatives to dump their kids on you, but you can't do the same. Seriously though, how do you pawn off seven kids on anyone? Funny…huh? You've got to see the humour in this. So we had to look for someone, friend or relative willing to move in for a month or so to help keep an eye on our precious ones. We did not have to look for too long; rescue came in the form of Uncle Femi, Tobe's business partner and brother from another mother.
Our preparations soon began and I got my trousseau according to Victorian standards. Even though I was not quite privileged to their bank balance, I do a mean thrift and vintage that would rival any real fashionista, if you get my drift. All I really needed was a simple but gorgeous gown for the reception and a good Gina...they do great shoes you know. Now there was also the matter of nipping off to Austria for some very fine voil lace for both me and the hubby. As we do it folks, you all know there has to be aso ebis right? That's where my many capable sisters eight in total come in. This was going to be one bad ass wedding and they were hell bent on making it so.
Tobe was still hustling, seriously determined to get this new company of his off the ground and thanks to our newly found mini fortune, he had something to bank on. He left all the organizing to me, said we had to live on something after the big giving. I laughed it off, never quite understanding what he meant, but I did much later when we got home in Naija.
I found the most amazing gown: vintage Dior, but was not so lucky with the Gina. One out of two ain't bad eh. You would never believe the stunner I finally found in Next Bridal. As for the lace, I scoured Liverpool Street. Somehow the hills of Austria did not make much money sense after all, wind fall or not.
As lady luck always followed me, I must brag that I did A-okay with my finds as well. The children were buzzed about the whole wedding thing, though the older ones were a little curious as to why we had to do it all over again. Whatever happened to the Registry over at the Council office, mom, Timothy asked?
His aunt, his dad's older sister had to explain about the traditions, whilst Uncle Femi got the job of promising the others they would all come to Naija next time. "It's not fair mom" the twins moaned in their silly whinny voices..."How come David goes everywhere?" "That's because he's the baby" uncle replies. Duh! Timothy teased.
The house was bustling with the usual crowd of kids dashing in and out, and my in laws who were now frequenting more than usual considering the coming event. Things were been taken care of this but we had to have help on the ground there in Naija and that was resolved by my lovely brother in law David, we named our baby after him. His wife is my little sis Ibuchim but we all called her Buchi. Now these two were typical Lagosians who had their ear to the ground on all the deals both legit and not so.
Between them they handled a lot of the organizing and putting things in place. But even though they steered clear of the not so legit, they knew someone who knew someone if the need ever arose. This time it did, and so they called on the someone who knew someone to handle certain matters.
The family in naija had their own aso ebi and the States side of the family also had theirs. There was still the matter of the in-laws from the Yoruba land...my people or so I thought. Our colour for my birth family was peach and green, my people, the Yoruba's, chose blue and silver and my sisters in naija decided on gold head ties for the Umunna's (relations at large) and Ndi Ibe ( my age group) I will explain later about these .
My mom had to get to naija from the states the same week as me to present a gift to our Umuada (daughters of my linage) to inform them of the upcoming visit for my hand and also plead for their help with cooking for certain members of my clan who would not on occasions such as this, eat food prepared by unworthy hands, no pun intended.
The further along we went with these preparations, the more I came to find out about how this most simple and beautiful tradition we were so keen to fulfil had been adulterated. The whole thing left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth; but everyone else was amused and in good spirits...could be because they had done battle with these people and not only lost, but took great gladness in what they gained in return, their beautiful wives and once lost dignity.
Everything took its toll, between liaising with naija and the states and desperately striving to double up and fill the two deep freezers in our store located in the back garden with 3 different kinds of soups, stews, bean porridge, Jellof rice, Moi-moi, fried fish, meats and chicken. These all had to be individually packaged to serve the kids and uncle for the next 3 to 4 weeks until our return. Other things like the oyinbo food would come from Mac D's or Bugger King and our local chippie. I was definitely swamped, but am not called supermom for nothing; this gal pulled it all off! Nice and neatly delivered and in target time as well...up me!
The last time I attended a wine carrying was back in 05; my oldest sister's. All I had to do was make myself beautiful and show up for the whole shindig; this time around was a different kettle of fish. There was so much to organize; money had to be sent down to David to pre book for the band, pay the caterers deposit and also accommodate the Photographers and video folks. Thanks to internet banking the transfer of funds was easy and as far as other things such as decorations and theme, my capable sisters took care of that.
Here in London, as we put the finishing touches to everything, the days seemed to fly. The children became clingy and the yearning for Naija soon increased in all of them. Having visited back in 04 for my brother in-laws wedding, my darlings were had so much fun and were spoilt rotten by all the relatives; hence their fascination for everything Naija had set in since then.
They remembered the beaches and Mega Plaza, all the Suya and fresh roasted corn; practically living in Ikoyi club, swimming all day. I did not like the idea of leaving them behind, but when you have to cut your coat according to your material, the story becomes different.
The last days before our departure was spent reassuring them that it would not be for long and that we would soon be back. Timothy and the bigger ones however were not too troubled, a little more freedom for them they thought, I'm sure; but surprises lay ahead for them courtesy of good old uncle Femi. Thankfully they were in school the day we left, so all the goodbyes were said earlier in the morning just before they left.
The bad thing about international traveling since 911 is the ridiculous hours wasted on the ground before take off. In this instance, ours was a good 5 hours, this was so not cool especially with a 2 year old. The nightmare of customs and immigration was nothing compared to the horrible transit bus to the plane itself.
I have flown BA all my adult life, but this particular experience left me so frustrated that I made a mental note...never again!
When you are on board an airplane going to Naija, there's a certain atmosphere in it, even before take off that gives off the feeling of being home. Perhaps it's the sudden familiar babbling in our various languages and that crude manner we tend to treat each other, regardless of class or status, courtesy and good manners immediately eludes us...aah...how so sweet.
After the gruesome experience, we are finally settled down and as we taxied for take off, I glance at my Tobe and his expression could not hide his apparent self pity of being in coach...got to love this!.
Take off was good and as the turbulence settled, dinner was served and the cabin crew did their usual magic of clearing up and passengers soon settled for the long haul to Lagos. David soon fell asleep after a bottle and gratefully I placed him in the bassinet. As for me, I was elated to finally stretch out my legs and put my arms around my body in a self hug....okay coach was awful, but it was not the end of the world.
I felt truly humbled sitting between Tobe and an overweight sweaty German who already showed signs of being one of those people who will talk you to death. The good thing though was that he smelled lovely...Armani pour homme; I know that fragrance any day. He was definitely Gay I thought almost happy; if he was a talker as suspected, we would have some real gal talk, lol.
The great thing about night flights was the sleep effect....before long, half our section in the cabin was in snooze-land and the global map on my screen gave our estimated arrival time to be 4hours more.Tobe also finally fallen asleep but my eyes were wide awake. I began to think about home and curious as to how this whole affair would play out.
We had seen a copy of the LIST....this was a list of items and services primarily expected by the groom to deliver to the bride's family. "you are not going to like this David had warned when he emailed it to us, they had asked for everything...from the most ridiculous to the down right stupid. They all but asked for a pound of flesh. He was right, I was livid. I carefully went through the 65 item list and narrowed it to 40. At that number, the total cost was still staggering. Remembering all this, I promptly got it out of my handbag and stared at it once more.
My mother in law screamed "ye kpa " and broke into a banter of Yoruba proverbs about how these Igbo people have turned something sacred to a treasure hunt. I happened to be on the phone with her when she received it. "Mommy! isn't this a plague consuming everywhere in our beloved country?" I said to her amused.
The more I stared at the list the more I began to miss my late father; had be been alive, half the nonsense on this list would not be on it. Tobe's response was just grin and bear it,"after all, we've already begun this journey". David began to stir a little and I gently rocked him back to sleep in his crib. Now would not be a good time to whip out my double D's to pacify him, my little man was still sucking.
Somewhere between self pity and indignation, I too fell asleep. Though I slept for a good two hours, it felt like 30 minutes. I was awakened by the flood of light that illuminated the entire cabin. The cabin suddenly came to life again and the airline staff scurried along with their duty of serving the last refreshments before arrival. Tobe's vegetarian platter looked better than the Ploughman's sandwiches the rest of us in coach got, my opinion of course.
He looked up at me as I reached to grab David and I winked at him. He seemed a lot less tense now and David began to reach for him...our German friend, who simply smiled and stretched his arms towards me. "I'll hand him over" he said between a mouthful.
Our little man happily reached for his outstretched hands and let out the loudest coo....aahh! German guy says smiling as he gave Tobe his son. I got our things together, prepared some formula for David and went to freshen up while others ate in order to avoid the rush afterwards. In the toilet, I splashed some water on my face and dabbed with paper towels. The face staring back at me looked tired, but still hanging in there. Not bad for a 37 year old huh? I thought to myself. I could still recognize that face.
I hastily applied some moisturizer to my face and arms and hurried back to my seat. The crew were already collecting papers and finished snacks...hence the trolley in the aisle. After several minutes of ducking between seats, I finally made it to mine. Tobe had just about finished with changing our little man and our German friend had left for the toilet. For the first time in the entire trip, my love and I were finally alone....at least for the next 3 minutes or so.
Matter of minutes now babes, I said touching his chin; not too late to change your mind. He smiled in that way only he could; eyes twinkling and face lite up "not for a million baby, it's a done deal already" he replied passing David to me.
The entire cabin was now fully awake once more as passengers prepared before the final call to be seated for landing. I mentally took stock of our belongings and where there where stowed. The smooth sound of the Captains voice soon urged staff to be seated for landing and we gradually descended until the thump familiar sound of the wheels hitting the runway could be heard and gradually the speed decreased until we came to a final stop.
The only way to go through disembarking from the plane was with calm and patience,and we did just that. There was no need to get my panties all twisted up so early in the next 2-3 hours of a hellish morning that was just about to be unleashed upon us....welcome to Naija!
The common rituals of immigrations and customs were observed and after many faked smiles, forced parting so to speak with a few Naira; we finally came through the other side. The family had done well in arranging transportation for us and as we wheeled the luggage and stroller down to the parking lot, my cousin Charles and the driver chatted animatedly with us.
After 30 minutes or so, we finally got everything into both cars and Tobe rode with the driver whilst David and I rode with my cousin. It was good to be in Lagos.
Traffic was not so bad and the familiar sights of flyers, billboards and street hawkers was welcome to my eyes.
Everyone is so excited about your Igabankwu, Charles said to me...in fact all the Oborogu people in Lagos are said to be coming to the village also. "really?" I asked.
This was really nice to hear, but I knew it also meant more expenses. The union of my people voting to come home for my traditional wedding was really a big honor. These days folks were not too keen on spending their money, but to paying their own fares to get to the east? This really was a big deal.
We must make sure there's plenty to eat and drink that day sister, Charles continued taking the words right out of my mouth. Yes indeed, we had to make it worth everyone's time.
The journey to my family home in Ajao estate did not take long. The estate was just minutes from the international airport anyway. The old house was still standing...looking old and tired but still standing. As we pulled into the drive, the gates were quickly closed behind us and soon the few relations who lived in the boys quarters all came out to greet us.
Familiar faces; some now wrinkled with age, yellowing teeth and wide eyed grins. It was wonderful to see them all. There was an uncle deported from the soviet union and one who fought in the Cameroon war; I will tell you more about them as we go along. There was sisi Beke (English teacher) she spoke way too much grammar. She was a middle aged family friend, educated in Cambridge, but taught English in a local secondary school...another strange story for later. Then there was uncle BOY...yes boy; that's just what we call him; his wife and 3 daughters made up the rest of the house hold.
Their hugs were genuine and smelly, but it felt good being in their embrace. They all greeted Tobe in a manner typical Igbo in-laws would, the men that is. "Ogor nno o! welcome". Tobe knew them all, and soon the little girls swarmed around David wanting to carry him and of course he did not protest at all.
When all the luggage had been brought in and put away in the rooms, we sat in the lounge downstairs to contemplate on where we would sleep for the night, when we got our official welcome from NEPA...
TBC
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Questioning The Bonds of Friendship
It is true that as parents we are the architects of our children’s take on life. While many try very hard to do their best, there are still some who don’t quite make the mark.
Cruelty and betrayal are taught to us every day of our lives by both kin and strangers. I believe it’s the world we now live in. Take a look around. It’s in your face every day: reality shows, peer pressure, sports, etc. Heck, we even have motivational speakers teaching cruelty and hatred; all in the name of getting one over.
This is the new culture for young people and they learnt this from society as a whole, not just parents. The real task is how do we stop this? Or at least make our children remember that they always have a choice to be the weirdo or odd ball, if the need ever arises or to make that choice to either stand out or join the status quo.
Two separate incidents come to mind. The first incident took place some years ago…
One evening, a friend of mine called from London. The kids had just finished dinner. I was surprised she called, seeing that it was around 2am over there. From the sound of her voice I knew something was bothering her.
Chelle! I exclaimed happily.
“How the heck are you gal?”
“Just hanging by my lonesome” she replied in that throaty voice of hers.
“What gives Chelle? Why are you up at 2am, by your lonesome at that?” I replied mimicking her voice to make her laugh.
And laugh she did and it was throaty and contagious. I love her laughter, deep from the belly as my grandma used to say.
“It’s snowing freakishly over here. Central heating is on the blink and I’m too cold to fall asleep”.
“Hmm… great time for nookie. Why aren’t you wrapped around that handsome man of yours?
There was silence for a moment, then she says “handsome has been gone for two months now, and I….
“What do you mean gone? I cut in.
“Gone as in the hell out of my life” she replies calmly.
***
Chelle and I have been friends from High school. She was just one of those people you could always depend on; kind to a fault and always there when you need someone. Unfortunately she just was not lucky in love.I think it’s the bleeding heart syndrome she has, and men have taken advantage of this for so long. Until Money (that’s her boyfriend’s nick name by the way,) came into her life.
Money was devilishly handsome and brash, but in a really sexy sort of way. Chelle’s first response when he started talking to her was standoffish, which surprised us all because she is the sweetest thing ever; regardless of the makeup of the other person.
This made the chase even sweeter for Money and he persisted. Flowers, texts, calls etcetera. He did all the right things to get her attention. Chelle still ran. Money eventually grabbed her one day in front of her mom and planted one smack on the lips. The room seemed to freeze that day, everyone starred, surprised while Chelle’s mom had a wicked grin on her face.
Chelle tried to pull away, but he was stronger. I guess she liked his lips, and whatever Money’s tongue was doing in her mouth seemed to be working because she relaxed and kissed him back. Everyone cheered and clapped, Money laughed and took a bow, walking over to Chelle’s mom and gave her a hug.
Poor Chelle, you should have seen her face. It turned out Money had been talking with her mom and she had encouraged him to go for it. You see, Chelle is her only child. A mother gets weary watching love come and go season after season. She wanted desperately for Chelle to be happy.
That’s how Chelle and Money came to be a couple. He has been a hustler all his life. He was that boy who sold sweets in elementary school at three times the price to desperate classmates because recess was over and they had no choice. He peddled purses, shoes, clothes…you name it, he did almost anything for a quick buck; this was in high school. University saw him dealing phones, dvd’s …anything to keep cash flow going. And so everyone called him Money, because he loved the dealings and was darn good at it.
Now all grown up, Money had not done badly at all… he was obscenely loaded! This was one relationship I believed was meant to be, they were good for one another. To hear Chelle say he had gone was rather unsettling and sounded out right crazy!
***
Her voice broke as she began to speak…It started about three months ago when she had the flu.
Another gal pal of ours, Sonia came over to play nurse. All went well as she made soup for Chelle and kept her company because Money was out of town. He called several times in those two days, but mainly spoke with Sonia. Chelle was asleep most times and when Sonia woke her up to speak with him, Chelle would say she should talk with him…heck, they all were friends. There was no reason for her to feel strange or otherwise. Sonia took care of her from that Friday until Sunday after midnight when Money finally made it home. He took Sonia back to her flat, and by the time he got home, Chelle had fallen asleep again.
Everything seemed fine until she began to notice that Sonia was not showing up for any of their gatherings any more. She avoided her calls and several times when they planned for lunch or something, Sonia would cancel at the last minute. She mentioned it to Money but his response was “women!”
Chelle’s mum managed to calm her down. She knew Sonia was one of her daughter’s few close friends still present there in London, so once more she decided to play God in her child’s life.
She decided to pay Sonia a visit; maybe she was going through something difficult herself and did not know how to handle it. One day after work, she drove down to Sonia’s street and soon found a suitable parking space. As she walked down to the building, she suddenly stopped in her tracks. At the corner by the end of the road, was parked Money’s jeep. That’s strange! She thought to herself. Alarm bells immediately went off in her head.
Unlike her daughter, Chelle’s mom was one tough broad. You really don’t want to mess with her.
Luckily she caught the door as another tenant entered, so she did not have to buzz Sonia. Her heart suddenly began to beat faster…she was scared all of a sudden. Somehow she already knew what she was about to find out, and though she knew the truth was important, she hated to be the one to tell her baby about it. Money! That bastard! He was just like the rest of them. How could Sonia do this? How could she?
The elevator took her to the tenth floor and with slow tentative steps she approached the Sonia’s door. Voices came through faintly from inside. She stood there for a minute and then rang the bell.
“Who is there?” Sonia’s musical voice asked?
“Management” Chelle’s mom answered disguising her voice.
As the door flew open, she pushed past a stunned Sonia into the flat. There, sprawled on the rug was none other than the bastard himself Money; half naked in his boxers nursing a glass of brandy.
“You” Chelle’s mom gasped launching for him
“Mariam! Noooo!” Money yelled jumping to his feet to grab his pants. It was already too late.
Chelle’s mom grabbed a lamp and flung it at him, he dodged and it crashed to the floor. Sonia was hysterical by now, hands cupped together as if in prayer “Oh my God, oh my God” she kept chanting.
Money had one foot in his pants and was still hopping around like a court jester, as Chelle’s mom snaps away on her phone.
“Shameless, classless bastard! God! To think I got Chelle into this!” She yelled at him.
Money now in his pants moves away from her, hands on his head with the kind of look that says “I’m seriously fucked” begins to speak.
“Shut up!” chelle’s mom roared.
“You only reverted to type, as for you…” she turns to Sonia, “I hope he is truly worth betraying your best friend over”.
Chelle’s mom walks out of the flat, Sonia’s sniffling fading away as she approached the elevator. It was then that she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.
***
“WTF! WFT…!” was all I kept repeating. It didn’t sound real to me as Chelle narrated her horror to me.
Not exonerating Money in anyway, but I was more shocked over Sonia’s part in all of this. She and Chelle were the only two out of six of us living in London. The rest of us lived in different parts of the US. Sonia and Chelle grew even closer over the years. Sonia had gone through a traumatic divorce five years ago after ten years of marriage. We all know she pulled through only because of Chelle.
We meet up once a year for two weeks, no kids, men or emotional baggage; just us gals. We had been doing this for four years now. Sonia’s face came to my mind, sweet beautiful Sonia. Her husband, Anthony, had cheated on her for years until she found out. He took everything in the divorce; the one thing she treasured and got was Jr. their 9 year old son.
Anthony stuck him in some silly private school in Switzerland, just because he could afford to, and also to make Sonia miserable. How could she now turn around and do the same thing to another woman? It wasn’t for material gains; Sonia was rich, as in old money kind of rich. Her dad was in real estate and owned premium buildings in London, N.Y, and South of France. Everyone had frowned when Sonia came home one day with this Benin boy. He was rough around the edges, working class background with a genius IQ, and a hunger to succeed.
Sonia was a wild child and she liked to wind her father up, so she stuck with him. Years later, Anthony’s hunger paid off, and he started making money. They marry against her father’s wishes, and when it ended, he was the first to say “told you so”.
How is it that Sonia has now developed amnesia all of a sudden? How could she now turn around and betray Chelle, over any man, much less with Money, whom she has known less than three years?
***
Chelle freaked out and began to cry. She wondered why was her mom being such a bitch and then she hung up. She felt all alone; Money was not feeling well and was withdrawn…and her mom had gone all psycho. She said she cried herself to sleep, but not before trying to call Sonia to talk with her, but as usual, no answer.
The next day her mom came over just before going to work. She simply handed Chelle the phone and said “here”. At first she did not make sense of it, Money looked rather silly hoping around with one leg in his pants. Wait a minute she thought, how the hell did her mom come by such a picture? It was then her mom sat down and told her everything.
Chelle said she could say nothing. After what seemed like hours but really only twenty minutes, she cuddled up to her mom and began to cry. Chelle said Money never came home after this day. He came by later that month to pick up his things; always making sure she was out of the flat. Chelle never bothered to ask why or what happened, and Money never explained either. As for Sonia, Chelle said she later called her, several times but did not speak with her. The last she heard from friends, Sonia was in rehab.
They said she left her flat in her panties with no bra. The building security called her dad; he was the landlord. He came for his daughter, and put her in a facility. She feels sad for Sonya; her father finally has control over her.
***
The rest of us were happy to be there. We talked, laughed, cried and talked some more.
Chelle met someone in Denver, He’s half Nigerian. His father is Italian and his mother Igbo. Chelle now seems happy. A lot more talkative and witty… There was a radiant glow in her face that we all noticed, and liked very much. We told her to be naughty and spontaneous. Adaku the loudest mouth amongst us yelled “live a little” as she pulled Chelle down into the snow. Adaku works for the U.S. Marines and knows twenty easy ways to kill a man and she tells men so. She’s been married now for thirteen years and Okey knows he is marked for life. She tells Chelle to let her know the next time any man wants to mess with her.
Okay, I have to go back to my introduction before this story; relationships are built in diverse ways. We all want the most worthy basis to be TRUST. Looking back to my friends and I; I begin to wonder about something that also happened more recently.
This really creeps me out. Just last week, we took the kids bowling and ran into a friend from their school. The girl’s mother says “hello” and they pick a lane next to ours. We soon began to talk whilst the children bowled. She tells me she was glad they ran into friends of her daughter Kayla….”she’s been miserable since Friday” her mother says.
Why I ask? Then she goes on to tell me about a group of girls whom Kayla had been friends with since kindergarten, how they had removed her as their friend on Facebook. “That’s not nice” I say really surprised.
I know, Kayla’s mom replies…would you believe they told her they did it because two boys from their school had asked them to do so. They say my little girl thinks she’s so cool but they will teach her a lesson. If the girls did not do it, they would not talk to them anymore and they would also be deleted from their Facebook.
You can imagine my horror…people these are 4th graders! I begin to wonder what kind of a world we live in, when little children terrorize each other and Facebook has become a weapon to oppress.
As I watched the kids bowl and play together, I smile broadly. Kayla was so cool. She was a gorgeous little brunette who would definitely become a stunner in the near future. My question Is, how could her childhood friends give her up so quickly over some boys?
Then there were these little boys who have already began to exhibit traits of dominance so early in life. What exactly had them spooked so young that their desire to control consumed them so? I discussed with Kayla’s mom at length, curious to find out what her child’s initial reaction had been.
She told me Kayla had asked all of the girls what was more important to them, their friendship or doing what some boys they did not even know wanted, just because they thought they were cute. She told them it was up to them to choose.
Wow! What a remarkable child I said, looking her way as she threw her bowling ball and cheered on until it struck the pins. “Her little heart was crushed when all those little freaks one after the other deleted her as a friend” her mother replied, clearly hurting for her child. Hard to believe how young it starts huh? She said softly.
I immediately look across to my girls, they were on Facebook too. In fact I signed them up myself in order to monitor everything they do. How would they react to such a thing happening to them? Had I made a mistake by letting them join? Are their little hearts able to take such rejection?
My girls are twins and are very close. In fact they are best friends and tend to have this shield around themselves from everyone. I tell Kayla’s mom to make sure she sends a friend request to my girls, “they will never do what a boy tells them to do “I say with a wink, it’s a twin thing…but am I really sure, I begin to wonder?
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The Many Faces of Love .... Part One
I often wonder what my life would have been like, if I could peek at another other than this one I have. I wonder whether it's really possible to create your own destiny as commonly said,or is it all just a load of rubbish?
They say that if one wished hard enough for something that it may just come true right? How come it is that I always wake up in this crazy wonderful circus that is my life?
The most wonderful thing happened to me a few years back; I finally got married! After living in sin for 18 years and 7 awesome kids to show for it, we finally did it right. This involved a long aged tradition of IGBANKWU....Wine Carrying in English, and yes! You literally really do carry the wine.
In my culture, it's the big Kahuna of all ceremonies in the nuptial department that is. What took us so long you ask? It's a really long story but I will try to sum it up. The spiritual part of me sums it up to fate, because no body would consciously make the choice to subject themselves and their loved ones to the ridicule and insults we eventually began to receive. There are consequences when a man fails to honor traditions, especially in a family such as as mine.
Life has a funny way of switching on you, and you soon begin to understand that there's something bigger than you here in control. Circumstances and situations beyond your control force and make you realize and acknowledge that you really have no choices but to heed where it leads. We went from being the respectable couple one minute, to the disgrace of the family, back in my home town. After many years of waiting and 7 children later, the situation had become scandalous and the whispers of "alu emee" was a little too much to stomach. The final straw was when an elderly uncle referred to our kids as "UMU IGBO" , we knew we had to help my poor mother save face......something had to be done and quickly.
Now we come to the fun part.....as this grand decision was being made, the couple in question being "us", were on ground zero in the finance department. As mentioned earlier, fate is a great decider of things but before I reveal just how we managed to pull this off, I will take you back some years......a decade and some years to be exact. This will help you get better acquainted with me and my wonderful world.
I grew up with my husband Tobe, we went to high school together. After graduating, I left Nigeria for the U.S. I was 16 , naive and full of the most awesome dreams. I settled into life in the U.S. easily because I had siblings already here, and university was fun. A year in Texas was all I could handle and as soon as I was able to convince my older sisters about moving to New York City, I moved in with my uncle in the fall of 1987. New York was everything I had expected it to be, and I soon enrolled in Fordham College, got a part time job in a restaurant in Manhattan and my life was traveling between the Bronx where we lived and work in Manhattan.
Life was good, my uncle was the best and I loved living in the Bronx. The diverse cultural mixture was what did it for me....we had Puerto Ricans, African Americans, Africans, West Indians and every other race. I was enjoying both work and school and thought what a great decision I had made coming here, when that thing Fate....came calling again. A family member blew into town and I had to leave town quickly again...this woman was trouble with a capital T.
Thanks to my uncle and the little money I had managed to save, I got a cheap fare on Delta Airlines, called the midnight express back in the day; and found myself back in Houston again; after just two semesters of school.
Things had changed in Houston; my sisters had moved into a smaller apartment so I had to share a room with my older sister; and had to get a job. This meant I stopped school for some time. In a way I was glad really, I had never really been big on institutionalized learning.....long story. I got work in Target and had to catch the metro which was not good at all. A beggar has no choice so I got with the program .I had not been in touch with my life or friends back home for almost two years and I often wondered what became of them, especially Tobe.
One day I got a call in the evening and the static was so bad, I immediately knew it was a call from home and as I strained to make sense of what was being said to me, I soon realized that it was Tobe, my dear friend whom I had been wondering about just a few days earlier. We reminisced and after catching up on old times, I then found out that he too left the country for London a year after me, working and schooling as well.
We talked for along time and though it was emotional, I was still glad to hear from him; I had forgotten how smitten he had been with me all those years ago. I used to always laugh at him and ask "what exactly could you possibly know about love" and he would look so sad and wounded......that look would always haunt me later in the night and I would feel bad for causing him pain.
To say that reconnecting with Tobe was something good would be an understatement, it was great! Soon it was as though we never even left the country or parted ways. Back then telecommunication was an expensive venture, and we both spent plenty money on it. We talked about everything, love, God, Religion, abuse, politics, sex...etc you name it, we talked about it. Everything was as before and we each carried on with our lives. Tobe was my best friend....he was the one I called when I had good news, and the one for the not so good. Even though my sisters had not met him, they felt like they already knew him....God knows they talked to him enough!
Houston also started being good to me......I got a nice boyfriend who simply adored me. and Tobe initially silent when I told him about Pete, after some time was back to his usual self again. He would even advise me when Pete and I had a fight, and they got to know each other over the phone.
Pete was my first love and soon after my 20th birthday, he became my first lover. As always, fate had another plan for me and it came in the way of me falling pregnant not too long after sex began. My perfect world came crashing down all over again. At first I was frightened, and gradually my fears turned to curiosity. I spent about four and a half months on the curiosity boulevard before moving on to anxiety close. At this time, I was putting on a little weight and my sisters commented on it......it was then that I told them. They must have cried for days....they were both terrified at what our father's reaction would be.
You don't get pregnant where we come from.....at least not until you graduate and marry; they could not understand how I managed to remain so calm. You see, I had done my own share of the crying thing and was all cried out! I knew they would eventually get over it as I did. The strange thing was that I never for once thought about termination....in fact, I found out I was pregnant after just 3 and a half weeks. I told my loving boy friend and he immediately developed a phobia for babies....he was scared to death about becoming a father. I told him it was okay, I will do this on my own then, just feel free to jump right in anytime you want I teased trying to make him laugh. I failed woefully at that, well the short version was we had to go our separate ways.
Life was not too cool after that, at about 7 months I really began to show and all the fun stopped. The rest of the months was used to prepare for my child and on the 15th of mach 1990 at exactly 1:05 pm, my son Timothy was born at a healthy weight of 8lbs 9 ounces. All was not as Rosy as I write mind you...my father did find out, almost threw my mum out of the house(as you all know that the bad stuff is usually the mothers influence right...) I was told to ask my mum where I came from because it was obvious I was not his child.
I took it all in stride but made sure he was equally as frustrated as I was, so I always came back with an equally spiteful response. I told him that I knew for a fact that he was my dad because all his people claim that I am the spitting image of his mom.
We had our war of words for about 3 months and needless to say that my topic fully occupied the gossips of my very extended family whilst the cowards amongst them still pretended and came to visit me and my son.
My so called friends here in Houston gradually pulled away from me, we had nothing in common any longer and as painful as all of this was, I still managed to hold my head up. My sisters were incredible....they were tireless in their efforts and they were mothers to Timothy along with me. Between us we had no clue what to to ,but we winged it as we went along.
My father cut me off completely, no tuition money was sent to me any longer and I had to put my baby in daycare at 8 weeks, and went back to work. This new life was becoming too much for us to handle, and my poor baby was also suffering; I knew my only option was to ask my mother to take him, and she said "yes" when I eventually did. It was against my fathers wishes, but all she said was "let me see how he'll throw away his own grandson" She was right, the stubborn old man could not complain, but he did his best to stay away from Timothy I was later told.
The next three years were the most miserable of my life, I missed my baby so much and there was an empty void that I need to fill desperately; only having him back with me would do that. I finished school, got my degree and went on to take several jobs along the way. I was a cook, housekeeper, gardener, English tutor and a catalogue model at one time. That was a good period for us...the money was infrequent as the work,but when it did come it was very good.
Tobe and I kept communicating and it was during one conversation with him that he said something that changed my life....he said 'if you miss your baby so much Maya,why don't you work with children? that way you can still feel a part of him with you"
At first I paused and thought how silly is that? That would make me miss him more....but later that night in bed, the more I thought about Tobe's comment, the more sense I made of it. That is one thing I can honestly tell you that calmed my spirit. As I started the daycare work, I became happier with each new day. I saw Timothy in every child there, and I showered them all with all the love I had reserved for my baby.
Life suddenly seemed worth living again, my sisters graduated as well and started better jobs, and I made the frequent call to Nigeria and my son was growing gradually. I also found out that my father was also beginning to take to him....they said he had no choice; Timothy would crawl to his bedroom door and sit there most times and he would have no choice but pick him up in other to get in the room. My poor mother would be commanded to come take "this child"...and she would smile secretly as she saw his defenses gradually weakening..
I continued work at the daycare, some days better than others, one day I was very low in spirit and a colleague said I had a call. Thinking it was one of my sisters I immediately broke down and began to say how unhappy I had become lately and that it was not making it any better anymore being surrounded by children whilst mine was hundreds of miles away. When I stopped talking was when it dawned on me that I was not speaking to either of my sisters, but Tobe. He was very kind to me and after much pleading that I stop crying, he asked if I wanted to come to London. To do what I asked slightly irritated. Well....you'll be nearer to him for one, and you can bring him here.
You have lost your mind I remember replying, and how exactly are I going to pull this off? I finally have my green card in the U.S., why would I want to go through the hell of another immigration problem? Besides, I had help here and could not make it, how do you think London would be any better?
I will marry you he said ....for the papers and I will help you. I was speechless! That was typical of Tobe, but I could not put this all on him. I said no! And we went on to discuss it further; work mates began to fidget because I had been on the phone for long, so I said I would call him when I got home. I never did, but I did mention it to my sisters and they agreed with me that it was unfair to allow him do that.
I was all ready to let him know that I could not do it and so I was going to call him that weekend to let him know, but to my surprise, he called and asked if there was anywhere I could receive a fax and I told him where. He faxed me an invitation and had also located the British High Commission in Houston.
He told me to let him do this for me, that he felt compelled to and would not take no for an answer; so I finally agreed to go to the meeting at the British High Commission. Two weeks later I was on a flight to London and I was both excited and apprehensive about the whole thing.
We soon got into the U.K. and after immigration and customs, I finally came into the arrivals hall and there was Tobe. He had not changed at all...still had the smiling eyes and face and still ever so jovial. We hugged and screamed and as would people in airports, we were stared at for a while but people soon got on with their business.
He had borrowed a friends car to get me and we talked all through the hour or so drive to his north London bedsit. The geographically and cultural changes were amazing...I was coming from Texas where everything was bigger....from the cars, to roads and even the people. London seemed like Lilliput, everything was small and awkward, Tobe reassured me that I would get used to it.
I stole glances at him and caught him several times stealing looks at me as well. He said I had not changed either, a little bigger....child birth put me up to a size 8, life! We finally got to the house and the average sized room which he rented from a young Pakistani family was to be our home for the next 7 months, and as planned, we got married at the council registry the following week of my arrival to the country. I got a really great job at Harvey Nicks, an up market department store in the West End and Tobe continued with his managerial work at a local fast food.
We had so much fun living together, and I was able to call home more frequently and find out all I could about Timothy and his development. Our relationship was loving but platonic and I would be a liar if I said I did not know how sweet on me Tobe was. The problem was that I had always loved him as a brother, I felt no sexual attraction for him.
Tobe was my rock...he displayed an amazing strength in character that I had not seen in a long time from a man, and he was dependable. He had the ability to disagree with me without being offensive and even when the situation had been abrasive,he always found a dignified way to make his point without coming across as condescending. We played, we rowed and as friends we made up. Life was good and as time passed, our relationship began to shift. The hugs lasted longer, and then came the horseplay and kisses.
A courtship began that I really can not find the right words to articulate, but the inevitable eventually happened, we became lovers. Now my Timothy was almost 5 and I soon found out that I was expecting again. Within the years of my moving to London and marrying Tobe, my father died. We made our peace before he did,and I went home and got my son to London to live with us.
We moved out the summer of 1996 and our son Christopher was born in our new 3 bedroom semi in West Hampstead. Tobe started to trade in the city and he was very good at it and life gradually continued to upgrade to better levels. Me?...well what can I tell you, I was a stay at home mom. We had 5 more children, altogether,5 boys and two girls (twins) Hope and Faith. The other boys are Micheal, Joshua and David, our last child.
Well that's the best way I know how to bring you up to date with things, the kids were great, and our life was chaotic. It was football, Cricket, tennis and more football. I was the original soccer mom and the house was a regular hang out for the kids in the neighborhood. All was going well until the fall of 2005 when the markets were bad and Tobe lost.....he lost really big, and one by one we gradually lost almost everything; that's how we got to that boulevard I was talking about earlier.
Tobe had taken one last gamble with the last of our savings, hoping to triple the investment,but as fate would have it, that too was lost. We were at our lowest but in all we managed to keep our spirits up. Thank God for good family and friends, we had nothing, but we never lacked. God was awesome and his graces kept pouring in from everywhere.
The hope for the marriage was gone and that was when fate decided to give us one final surprise. My sisters decided that they would loan him the money....it was the only way Tobe would agree to it, but an old friend who we had helped many years ago had suddenly come into a lot of money and would you know that he out of nowhere remembered us, and gave us a gift. On that day, I cooked the most delicious onugbu soup. He was an Nnewi man, and onugbu soup I knew how to cook well, so......
The visit was long and wonderful, and also really great to meet his Scottish wife and 4 beautiful daughters; when the clearing up was done and the kid s finally settled for the night, I limped upstairs to soak in a hot bath. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard Tobe scream...... Oh my God!. what was wrong now? Luckily the children were all sleeping except for Timothy. who rushed out of the room the same time as me and we ran downstairs. Tobe was sitting on the sofa his head in his hands looking up repeatedly saying oh Father, oh Father........
Baby what is it? I asked......what's the matter? He simply handed me a paper....it was a cheque from Ekene his friend. I looked at it and caught my breath....this can not be....... my eyes were certainly playing tricks on me; but was Tobe's also? Ekene had given us twenty five thousand pounds!
Oh my gosh! Timothy exclaimed, mom that's a lot of money!.This God!...oh this God! was all I could chant. All we had done was house this man when he came newly from Nigeria and Tobe through his old colleagues from the restaurant days had found him work. He lived with us for 8 months and at that time we had only 3 children . Just food and shelter and people to talk to. He was a good house guest. He shared with Timothy whilst the other two slept together. Half the time Ekene was gone, he worked like a donkey and it was through that job in Harvester, that he met his wife.
Fate had indeed been sneaky and kind...who would have thought that we would have such benefactors in the first place, and why now when all hope seemed to have gone?
We called them immediately and expressed our gratitude, he hushed us up. No...he said, I wish I could do more. No amount of money can ever equate what you two did in my life. You gave me a family while mine was too far away, and I never felt like a guest in your home. Thank you for showing me the face of love. I vowed that if I ever became something in my life, that I would find you and let you know how you changed my life. Wow....his words were too much to take in, we always wondered about him after we lost touch, we never knew we had made such an impact on him.
Timothy was deliriously excited, he was almost 16 and had a list so long of all the electronics he had his heart on......Christmas had come early.
My sisters had already given the 2 million in Naira and had bought both our tickets, so this 25 grand was just God's way of saying....."see....I got your backs!"
They say that if one wished hard enough for something that it may just come true right? How come it is that I always wake up in this crazy wonderful circus that is my life?
The most wonderful thing happened to me a few years back; I finally got married! After living in sin for 18 years and 7 awesome kids to show for it, we finally did it right. This involved a long aged tradition of IGBANKWU....Wine Carrying in English, and yes! You literally really do carry the wine.
In my culture, it's the big Kahuna of all ceremonies in the nuptial department that is. What took us so long you ask? It's a really long story but I will try to sum it up. The spiritual part of me sums it up to fate, because no body would consciously make the choice to subject themselves and their loved ones to the ridicule and insults we eventually began to receive. There are consequences when a man fails to honor traditions, especially in a family such as as mine.
Life has a funny way of switching on you, and you soon begin to understand that there's something bigger than you here in control. Circumstances and situations beyond your control force and make you realize and acknowledge that you really have no choices but to heed where it leads. We went from being the respectable couple one minute, to the disgrace of the family, back in my home town. After many years of waiting and 7 children later, the situation had become scandalous and the whispers of "alu emee" was a little too much to stomach. The final straw was when an elderly uncle referred to our kids as "UMU IGBO" , we knew we had to help my poor mother save face......something had to be done and quickly.
Now we come to the fun part.....as this grand decision was being made, the couple in question being "us", were on ground zero in the finance department. As mentioned earlier, fate is a great decider of things but before I reveal just how we managed to pull this off, I will take you back some years......a decade and some years to be exact. This will help you get better acquainted with me and my wonderful world.
I grew up with my husband Tobe, we went to high school together. After graduating, I left Nigeria for the U.S. I was 16 , naive and full of the most awesome dreams. I settled into life in the U.S. easily because I had siblings already here, and university was fun. A year in Texas was all I could handle and as soon as I was able to convince my older sisters about moving to New York City, I moved in with my uncle in the fall of 1987. New York was everything I had expected it to be, and I soon enrolled in Fordham College, got a part time job in a restaurant in Manhattan and my life was traveling between the Bronx where we lived and work in Manhattan.
Life was good, my uncle was the best and I loved living in the Bronx. The diverse cultural mixture was what did it for me....we had Puerto Ricans, African Americans, Africans, West Indians and every other race. I was enjoying both work and school and thought what a great decision I had made coming here, when that thing Fate....came calling again. A family member blew into town and I had to leave town quickly again...this woman was trouble with a capital T.
Thanks to my uncle and the little money I had managed to save, I got a cheap fare on Delta Airlines, called the midnight express back in the day; and found myself back in Houston again; after just two semesters of school.
Things had changed in Houston; my sisters had moved into a smaller apartment so I had to share a room with my older sister; and had to get a job. This meant I stopped school for some time. In a way I was glad really, I had never really been big on institutionalized learning.....long story. I got work in Target and had to catch the metro which was not good at all. A beggar has no choice so I got with the program .I had not been in touch with my life or friends back home for almost two years and I often wondered what became of them, especially Tobe.
One day I got a call in the evening and the static was so bad, I immediately knew it was a call from home and as I strained to make sense of what was being said to me, I soon realized that it was Tobe, my dear friend whom I had been wondering about just a few days earlier. We reminisced and after catching up on old times, I then found out that he too left the country for London a year after me, working and schooling as well.
We talked for along time and though it was emotional, I was still glad to hear from him; I had forgotten how smitten he had been with me all those years ago. I used to always laugh at him and ask "what exactly could you possibly know about love" and he would look so sad and wounded......that look would always haunt me later in the night and I would feel bad for causing him pain.
To say that reconnecting with Tobe was something good would be an understatement, it was great! Soon it was as though we never even left the country or parted ways. Back then telecommunication was an expensive venture, and we both spent plenty money on it. We talked about everything, love, God, Religion, abuse, politics, sex...etc you name it, we talked about it. Everything was as before and we each carried on with our lives. Tobe was my best friend....he was the one I called when I had good news, and the one for the not so good. Even though my sisters had not met him, they felt like they already knew him....God knows they talked to him enough!
Houston also started being good to me......I got a nice boyfriend who simply adored me. and Tobe initially silent when I told him about Pete, after some time was back to his usual self again. He would even advise me when Pete and I had a fight, and they got to know each other over the phone.
Pete was my first love and soon after my 20th birthday, he became my first lover. As always, fate had another plan for me and it came in the way of me falling pregnant not too long after sex began. My perfect world came crashing down all over again. At first I was frightened, and gradually my fears turned to curiosity. I spent about four and a half months on the curiosity boulevard before moving on to anxiety close. At this time, I was putting on a little weight and my sisters commented on it......it was then that I told them. They must have cried for days....they were both terrified at what our father's reaction would be.
You don't get pregnant where we come from.....at least not until you graduate and marry; they could not understand how I managed to remain so calm. You see, I had done my own share of the crying thing and was all cried out! I knew they would eventually get over it as I did. The strange thing was that I never for once thought about termination....in fact, I found out I was pregnant after just 3 and a half weeks. I told my loving boy friend and he immediately developed a phobia for babies....he was scared to death about becoming a father. I told him it was okay, I will do this on my own then, just feel free to jump right in anytime you want I teased trying to make him laugh. I failed woefully at that, well the short version was we had to go our separate ways.
Life was not too cool after that, at about 7 months I really began to show and all the fun stopped. The rest of the months was used to prepare for my child and on the 15th of mach 1990 at exactly 1:05 pm, my son Timothy was born at a healthy weight of 8lbs 9 ounces. All was not as Rosy as I write mind you...my father did find out, almost threw my mum out of the house(as you all know that the bad stuff is usually the mothers influence right...) I was told to ask my mum where I came from because it was obvious I was not his child.
I took it all in stride but made sure he was equally as frustrated as I was, so I always came back with an equally spiteful response. I told him that I knew for a fact that he was my dad because all his people claim that I am the spitting image of his mom.
We had our war of words for about 3 months and needless to say that my topic fully occupied the gossips of my very extended family whilst the cowards amongst them still pretended and came to visit me and my son.
My so called friends here in Houston gradually pulled away from me, we had nothing in common any longer and as painful as all of this was, I still managed to hold my head up. My sisters were incredible....they were tireless in their efforts and they were mothers to Timothy along with me. Between us we had no clue what to to ,but we winged it as we went along.
My father cut me off completely, no tuition money was sent to me any longer and I had to put my baby in daycare at 8 weeks, and went back to work. This new life was becoming too much for us to handle, and my poor baby was also suffering; I knew my only option was to ask my mother to take him, and she said "yes" when I eventually did. It was against my fathers wishes, but all she said was "let me see how he'll throw away his own grandson" She was right, the stubborn old man could not complain, but he did his best to stay away from Timothy I was later told.
The next three years were the most miserable of my life, I missed my baby so much and there was an empty void that I need to fill desperately; only having him back with me would do that. I finished school, got my degree and went on to take several jobs along the way. I was a cook, housekeeper, gardener, English tutor and a catalogue model at one time. That was a good period for us...the money was infrequent as the work,but when it did come it was very good.
Tobe and I kept communicating and it was during one conversation with him that he said something that changed my life....he said 'if you miss your baby so much Maya,why don't you work with children? that way you can still feel a part of him with you"
At first I paused and thought how silly is that? That would make me miss him more....but later that night in bed, the more I thought about Tobe's comment, the more sense I made of it. That is one thing I can honestly tell you that calmed my spirit. As I started the daycare work, I became happier with each new day. I saw Timothy in every child there, and I showered them all with all the love I had reserved for my baby.
Life suddenly seemed worth living again, my sisters graduated as well and started better jobs, and I made the frequent call to Nigeria and my son was growing gradually. I also found out that my father was also beginning to take to him....they said he had no choice; Timothy would crawl to his bedroom door and sit there most times and he would have no choice but pick him up in other to get in the room. My poor mother would be commanded to come take "this child"...and she would smile secretly as she saw his defenses gradually weakening..
I continued work at the daycare, some days better than others, one day I was very low in spirit and a colleague said I had a call. Thinking it was one of my sisters I immediately broke down and began to say how unhappy I had become lately and that it was not making it any better anymore being surrounded by children whilst mine was hundreds of miles away. When I stopped talking was when it dawned on me that I was not speaking to either of my sisters, but Tobe. He was very kind to me and after much pleading that I stop crying, he asked if I wanted to come to London. To do what I asked slightly irritated. Well....you'll be nearer to him for one, and you can bring him here.
You have lost your mind I remember replying, and how exactly are I going to pull this off? I finally have my green card in the U.S., why would I want to go through the hell of another immigration problem? Besides, I had help here and could not make it, how do you think London would be any better?
I will marry you he said ....for the papers and I will help you. I was speechless! That was typical of Tobe, but I could not put this all on him. I said no! And we went on to discuss it further; work mates began to fidget because I had been on the phone for long, so I said I would call him when I got home. I never did, but I did mention it to my sisters and they agreed with me that it was unfair to allow him do that.
I was all ready to let him know that I could not do it and so I was going to call him that weekend to let him know, but to my surprise, he called and asked if there was anywhere I could receive a fax and I told him where. He faxed me an invitation and had also located the British High Commission in Houston.
He told me to let him do this for me, that he felt compelled to and would not take no for an answer; so I finally agreed to go to the meeting at the British High Commission. Two weeks later I was on a flight to London and I was both excited and apprehensive about the whole thing.
We soon got into the U.K. and after immigration and customs, I finally came into the arrivals hall and there was Tobe. He had not changed at all...still had the smiling eyes and face and still ever so jovial. We hugged and screamed and as would people in airports, we were stared at for a while but people soon got on with their business.
He had borrowed a friends car to get me and we talked all through the hour or so drive to his north London bedsit. The geographically and cultural changes were amazing...I was coming from Texas where everything was bigger....from the cars, to roads and even the people. London seemed like Lilliput, everything was small and awkward, Tobe reassured me that I would get used to it.
I stole glances at him and caught him several times stealing looks at me as well. He said I had not changed either, a little bigger....child birth put me up to a size 8, life! We finally got to the house and the average sized room which he rented from a young Pakistani family was to be our home for the next 7 months, and as planned, we got married at the council registry the following week of my arrival to the country. I got a really great job at Harvey Nicks, an up market department store in the West End and Tobe continued with his managerial work at a local fast food.
We had so much fun living together, and I was able to call home more frequently and find out all I could about Timothy and his development. Our relationship was loving but platonic and I would be a liar if I said I did not know how sweet on me Tobe was. The problem was that I had always loved him as a brother, I felt no sexual attraction for him.
Tobe was my rock...he displayed an amazing strength in character that I had not seen in a long time from a man, and he was dependable. He had the ability to disagree with me without being offensive and even when the situation had been abrasive,he always found a dignified way to make his point without coming across as condescending. We played, we rowed and as friends we made up. Life was good and as time passed, our relationship began to shift. The hugs lasted longer, and then came the horseplay and kisses.
A courtship began that I really can not find the right words to articulate, but the inevitable eventually happened, we became lovers. Now my Timothy was almost 5 and I soon found out that I was expecting again. Within the years of my moving to London and marrying Tobe, my father died. We made our peace before he did,and I went home and got my son to London to live with us.
We moved out the summer of 1996 and our son Christopher was born in our new 3 bedroom semi in West Hampstead. Tobe started to trade in the city and he was very good at it and life gradually continued to upgrade to better levels. Me?...well what can I tell you, I was a stay at home mom. We had 5 more children, altogether,5 boys and two girls (twins) Hope and Faith. The other boys are Micheal, Joshua and David, our last child.
Well that's the best way I know how to bring you up to date with things, the kids were great, and our life was chaotic. It was football, Cricket, tennis and more football. I was the original soccer mom and the house was a regular hang out for the kids in the neighborhood. All was going well until the fall of 2005 when the markets were bad and Tobe lost.....he lost really big, and one by one we gradually lost almost everything; that's how we got to that boulevard I was talking about earlier.
Tobe had taken one last gamble with the last of our savings, hoping to triple the investment,but as fate would have it, that too was lost. We were at our lowest but in all we managed to keep our spirits up. Thank God for good family and friends, we had nothing, but we never lacked. God was awesome and his graces kept pouring in from everywhere.
The hope for the marriage was gone and that was when fate decided to give us one final surprise. My sisters decided that they would loan him the money....it was the only way Tobe would agree to it, but an old friend who we had helped many years ago had suddenly come into a lot of money and would you know that he out of nowhere remembered us, and gave us a gift. On that day, I cooked the most delicious onugbu soup. He was an Nnewi man, and onugbu soup I knew how to cook well, so......
The visit was long and wonderful, and also really great to meet his Scottish wife and 4 beautiful daughters; when the clearing up was done and the kid s finally settled for the night, I limped upstairs to soak in a hot bath. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard Tobe scream...... Oh my God!. what was wrong now? Luckily the children were all sleeping except for Timothy. who rushed out of the room the same time as me and we ran downstairs. Tobe was sitting on the sofa his head in his hands looking up repeatedly saying oh Father, oh Father........
Baby what is it? I asked......what's the matter? He simply handed me a paper....it was a cheque from Ekene his friend. I looked at it and caught my breath....this can not be....... my eyes were certainly playing tricks on me; but was Tobe's also? Ekene had given us twenty five thousand pounds!
Oh my gosh! Timothy exclaimed, mom that's a lot of money!.This God!...oh this God! was all I could chant. All we had done was house this man when he came newly from Nigeria and Tobe through his old colleagues from the restaurant days had found him work. He lived with us for 8 months and at that time we had only 3 children . Just food and shelter and people to talk to. He was a good house guest. He shared with Timothy whilst the other two slept together. Half the time Ekene was gone, he worked like a donkey and it was through that job in Harvester, that he met his wife.
Fate had indeed been sneaky and kind...who would have thought that we would have such benefactors in the first place, and why now when all hope seemed to have gone?
We called them immediately and expressed our gratitude, he hushed us up. No...he said, I wish I could do more. No amount of money can ever equate what you two did in my life. You gave me a family while mine was too far away, and I never felt like a guest in your home. Thank you for showing me the face of love. I vowed that if I ever became something in my life, that I would find you and let you know how you changed my life. Wow....his words were too much to take in, we always wondered about him after we lost touch, we never knew we had made such an impact on him.
Timothy was deliriously excited, he was almost 16 and had a list so long of all the electronics he had his heart on......Christmas had come early.
My sisters had already given the 2 million in Naira and had bought both our tickets, so this 25 grand was just God's way of saying....."see....I got your backs!"
Friday, November 5, 2010
AM CONVINCED 2
I could not wait for Thursday....we still had two whole days; how on earth could he do such a thing? We still had 40 minutes for the lesson, he was barely there for 20! What teacher leaves his class unattended and not appoint a monitor for the rest of the period?... All of these thoughts ran through my head all at once, and I was already thinking of my new assignment. Having read Oliver Twist the previous year was purely for the pleasure of it.
All that I got out of it was that poverty knew no borders or boundaries, and that wickedness and corruption equally found its way right up to the white peoples countryside as well. I remember all of the children and their unfortunate existence and it reminded me so much of mine in some ways.....seeing that I lived at the mercy of which ever stepmom was in command at that time. Their plight was all too familiar with my environment, all you had to do was step outside; and you would see it every where.
Child labour, abject poverty and destitution beyond your imagination, and the unfortunate victims were the most defenseless, most vulnerable...children. The sad irony was that oftentimes, their own mothers and fathers put them into these; because their own parents knew no other way than that.......and the cycle just continues.
To now write about the moral and psychological opinions and implications I had about this same subject proved to be a big challenge for me....how exactly do I begin to do this? What could I possibly write that would make an impression on the man who had managed in the brief twenty or so minutes of encounter to put me in awe of him. The rest of the class period went by quickly and then we had biology labs, and agricultural science, that meant lots of stink and chicken poo.....another topic I might add. When the bell went for the day at 2:55, I was ready to go home: home being my dorm room of course.
Thursday came and as the day progressed, am very sure that I was not the only person waiting anxiously, but also eagerly for 12:55, last period double literature. Time finally came and precisely on the clock, he walks into class. We all rise as is customary when a teacher enters for class, we remain standing until instructed to sit. When he did, he started to speak immediately. He went on about the age and time and period Dickens wrote his book, and pointed out the style of the grammar and then went on to tell us that the book was obviously satirical and that was the basis of his challenge to us.
Everyone handed in their paper and the first ten minutes or so he glanced through some of the papers ,putting about three or four to the left, and the rest he left in a pile. We read two more chapters of Oliver twist, he would call a name from the register and after 4 or five minutes of reading, he would call on another. when we concluded the two chapters, he got up and asked us to introduce ourselves. We were 32 in my class, and 32 young men and women introduced themselves, feeling quite grown up I might add. After the introductions, he said to indicate by show of hands those of us who wanted to be writers or teachers. Around half the class raised their hands, and he said "very good"; now can the rest of you tell me what profession if any at this time you would be interested to pursue in your future?
One by one each remaining student said their piece, with him asking a question here or there to a few people. When they had finished, he cleared his voice and spoke again"..now that we all know each other properly, class can begin". He divided us into three groups which he called Alpha. Beta, and Kappa. Mr Andy then told us that he really did not like to teach...he preferred to say that we were all trying to discover . He said that everyone had an interpretation to an object or observation, irrespective of it's original or initial intent, the receptor being the human, had the sole right to discern what he wanted to from it.
So based on that, he wanted us all to be thinkers......"convince me, he said", make me see what you see...I may not agree with you, but I will understand you...and after that, we can do it the curriculum way, so you get your passing grades, and also attain the purpose of being here in the first place, an education.
To now write about the moral and psychological opinions and implications I had about this same subject proved to be a big challenge for me....how exactly do I begin to do this? What could I possibly write that would make an impression on the man who had managed in the brief twenty or so minutes of encounter to put me in awe of him. The rest of the class period went by quickly and then we had biology labs, and agricultural science, that meant lots of stink and chicken poo.....another topic I might add. When the bell went for the day at 2:55, I was ready to go home: home being my dorm room of course.
Thursday came and as the day progressed, am very sure that I was not the only person waiting anxiously, but also eagerly for 12:55, last period double literature. Time finally came and precisely on the clock, he walks into class. We all rise as is customary when a teacher enters for class, we remain standing until instructed to sit. When he did, he started to speak immediately. He went on about the age and time and period Dickens wrote his book, and pointed out the style of the grammar and then went on to tell us that the book was obviously satirical and that was the basis of his challenge to us.
Everyone handed in their paper and the first ten minutes or so he glanced through some of the papers ,putting about three or four to the left, and the rest he left in a pile. We read two more chapters of Oliver twist, he would call a name from the register and after 4 or five minutes of reading, he would call on another. when we concluded the two chapters, he got up and asked us to introduce ourselves. We were 32 in my class, and 32 young men and women introduced themselves, feeling quite grown up I might add. After the introductions, he said to indicate by show of hands those of us who wanted to be writers or teachers. Around half the class raised their hands, and he said "very good"; now can the rest of you tell me what profession if any at this time you would be interested to pursue in your future?
One by one each remaining student said their piece, with him asking a question here or there to a few people. When they had finished, he cleared his voice and spoke again"..now that we all know each other properly, class can begin". He divided us into three groups which he called Alpha. Beta, and Kappa. Mr Andy then told us that he really did not like to teach...he preferred to say that we were all trying to discover . He said that everyone had an interpretation to an object or observation, irrespective of it's original or initial intent, the receptor being the human, had the sole right to discern what he wanted to from it.
So based on that, he wanted us all to be thinkers......"convince me, he said", make me see what you see...I may not agree with you, but I will understand you...and after that, we can do it the curriculum way, so you get your passing grades, and also attain the purpose of being here in the first place, an education.
The groups were to work together to form the three classes in Dickens times....the royals, the court and the lower class. We were to present our perspectives of that time and our rational and reasons for why we lived and behaved a certain way . This was 1980's Nigeria. What we had to eventually present to Mr Andy had to be our best understanding of Dickens tales and somehow try to equate it to our modern reality.
I know.....this sounds far to advanced for 11,12 and some 13 year olds; it sounded more like what a second year university student would be expected to do....but we were buzzed with excitement. If there was one thing Mr Andy was good at, it was making you eager to try anything without fear or reservations; his enthusiasm and optimism was intoxicating.
So began my love for literature and groups Alpha, Beta and Kappa went on to produce very outstanding contributions in our joint quest to discoveries, and very different but compelling arguments about our classes and what ills or good we gave society. This was a dialogue no particular group could possibly win, but it achieved something that taboos and societal dictates forbade; human beings, irrespective of class or creed, talking and interacting as should be. Those were some 32 years ago and a far cry of what my world is today; but the lessons I learnt from that single teacher in the 8 months of that academic year, are the same ones which made me what I am today. My Dickens class thought me love, respect, discretion, integrity and dignified human life. I learnt loyalty and confidentiality, I learnt not to be afraid to show my emotions, be it anger, fear, dislike or love......"Convince Me", those were Mr Andy's words..... I learnt how to convince people and make them see me.
I know.....this sounds far to advanced for 11,12 and some 13 year olds; it sounded more like what a second year university student would be expected to do....but we were buzzed with excitement. If there was one thing Mr Andy was good at, it was making you eager to try anything without fear or reservations; his enthusiasm and optimism was intoxicating.
So began my love for literature and groups Alpha, Beta and Kappa went on to produce very outstanding contributions in our joint quest to discoveries, and very different but compelling arguments about our classes and what ills or good we gave society. This was a dialogue no particular group could possibly win, but it achieved something that taboos and societal dictates forbade; human beings, irrespective of class or creed, talking and interacting as should be. Those were some 32 years ago and a far cry of what my world is today; but the lessons I learnt from that single teacher in the 8 months of that academic year, are the same ones which made me what I am today. My Dickens class thought me love, respect, discretion, integrity and dignified human life. I learnt loyalty and confidentiality, I learnt not to be afraid to show my emotions, be it anger, fear, dislike or love......"Convince Me", those were Mr Andy's words..... I learnt how to convince people and make them see me.
AM CONVINCED
They say that no truer love exists than a man lays his life down for his brother; in other words a love without conditions. As we go through these phases we call life, we all encounter different people with whom we develop relationships and affiliations on various grounds and levels.
In one way or the other these people influence our lives in ways that affect us either positively or negatively, but in all, our general make up would not be totally complete without them. It begins as early as when we are babies, our parentage and families are first; as we grow older we begin to mix up more with other people.
In one way or the other these people influence our lives in ways that affect us either positively or negatively, but in all, our general make up would not be totally complete without them. It begins as early as when we are babies, our parentage and families are first; as we grow older we begin to mix up more with other people.
Some of our earlier encounters would be with baby sitters or daycares, and as we progress into kindergarten and grade school, we begin to form bonds with teachers or classmates or even general workers or staff in the schools or institutions. They say these are the things that help us develop socially, and from these we are able to form perceptions and opinion.
Personally my earliest memory of my favourite persons and least liked ones goes back to about the age of five; my siblings find it incredible that I remember things about that early in life, but my mother has confirmed many of my memories. I remember a particular house help we had who was very loving and kind, Angela was her name and like her name she looked like an angel. As an adult now, I often think about her and what circumstances in her family life that must have led her to becoming a maid at such an early age. Now I know that the economic situation of the world often leaves many of us in places we just never imagined we would be. On the same note, I remember another maid we had, Cecelia who was the devils’ hand maid. She was employed by my stepmother, and somehow got it into her young mind that we were second class citizens in our own home..... I was about 8 at this time.
There was a steward who used to come at night by our semi open bedroom window to peep at us; I was about 11 at the time. One day when we fell asleep in the family room watching television late into the night, I kept dreaming that someone was pulling at my shorts and trying to touch my private part. I would move subconsciously and it would stop, but after a while it would continue... I felt like peeing, so as I got up to use the toilet, I saw a figure dash into the corridor....it was the steward.
He was a pervert and the following day, I told my stepmom about it. He was summoned to the living room for questioning, and as expected he denied everything. So an 11 year old girl was branded a liar, and all I did was cry and made sure I never fell asleep in the family room ever again. Karma is a very determined master and not too long after my accusations, the same steward was caught by the night watchman trying to break into our bedroom through the window. He was dismissed the next day; the amazing thing was that he still kept denying it.
I later went on to boarding school and life was just wonderful; boarding school was not the best, but it was not too bad either. It was here that I actually encountered my first love: literature. I was one of those people who conventional education was a little too much for me to grasp, but knowing that I had no choice but go to school else my father would murder me: I just about managed to cope. Everything was a drag for me; the only things I enjoyed about the academic aspects of school were subjects like English literature, Economics, English Language, History and Geography. All other subjects not only did not make much sense to me, but I was totally clueless at especially mathematics. I had a very unpleasant relationship with my maths teacher. In fact with all my science orientated subject teachers.
The non academic aspects of school and boarding school was the best; especially sports, drama society and the school paper. Unfortunately the academic and non academic worked hand in hand; if your fail, you just don't play period. So you can see my predicament....I had to work really hard and many times I resorted to begging class mates into helping me until I somehow grasped what the whole thing was about. In my areas of interests, I was just brilliant; go figure.
So like a good trooper I went along with school and days when I had my subjects, I had a smile on all day, in fact I could hardly wait to get to class. I started my love affair with literature really back in elementary school, I began with all the Secret Seven, Famous five, Adventurous Four series, and gradually graduated to C.S Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, Dickens Oliver Twist, and books like Great expectations and Mayor of Casterbridge, Little Women, Shaw's Tom Sawyer and adventures of Huckleberry Finn and many more. I loved African literature as well.....writers like Soyinka, Ola Rotimi, Chinua Achebe, Flora Nwapa to name a few. I relished every piece and by age11 I started to develop an interest in poetry and the rest as they say is truly history.
I can honestly tell you that I never fully appreciated the pleasure of this awesome art until the first day I met my literature teacher Mr Andy Chukwujukwu, but he was fondly called Mr Andy. That day was like any other, the bell went for a change of lesson, and the class waited for our regular teacher Mrs... I don't even remember her name now, that's how boring and numbing she had turned my beloved literature. Instead of her, in walks this little man. He was about 5'4 and was stoutly built. He had very broad shoulders like someone who lifted weights, and he was strangely very good looking. Something semi teenage girls noticed immediately and the crushing I must say started instantly.
Mr Andy walked straight to the blackboard, picked up the chalk and wrote on it "ANDY CHUKWUJEKWU".......The class was quiet and he placed the chalk back on the table, faced the class and began to speak. His voice was loud! It sounded like thunder, and that startled the entire class. It was incredible to believe that such vocals belonged to a man his stature, broad shoulders or not. That voice was what got us all; he began to read from the book in his hands, a book all too familiar to me, Dickens' Oliver twist.
"Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.
For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; in which case it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, extant in the literature of any age or country.
Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse, is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human being, I do mean to say that in this particular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by possibility have occurred. The fact is, that there was considerable difficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office of respiration,--a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence; and for some time he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter.
Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time. There being nobody by, however, but a pauper old woman, who was rendered rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer; and a parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver and Nature fought out the point between them. The result was, that, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed, and proceeded to advertise to the inmates of the workhouse the fact of a new burden having been imposed upon the parish, by setting up as loud a cry as could reasonably have been expected from a male infant who had not been possessed of that very useful appendage, a voice, for a much longer space of time than three minutes and a quarter.
As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper action of his lungs, the patchwork coverlet which was carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled; the pale face of a young woman was raised feebly from the pillow; and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, 'Let me see the child, and die.'
The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned towards the fire: giving the palms of his hands a warm and a rub alternately. As the young woman spoke, he rose, and advancing to the bed's head, said, with more kindness than might have been expected of him:
'Oh, you must not talk about dying yet.'
'Lor bless her dear heart, no!' interposed the nurse, hastily depositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, the contents of which she had been tasting in a corner with evident satisfaction.
'Lor bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, sir, and had thirteen children of her own, and all on 'em dead except two, and them in the wurkus with me, she'll know better than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart! Think what it is to be a mother, there's a dear young lamb do.'
Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother's prospects failed in producing its due effect. The patient shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the child.
The surgeon deposited it in her arms. She imprinted her cold white lips passionately on its forehead; passed her hands over her face; gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back--and died. They chafed her breast, hands, and temples; but the blood had stopped forever. They talked of hope and comfort. They had been strangers too long.
'It's all over, Mrs. Thingummy!' said the surgeon at last.
'Ah, poor dear, so it is!' said the nurse, picking up the cork of the green bottle, which had fallen out on the pillow, as she stooped to take up the child. 'Poor dear!"
The class was dead quiet! A few of us we were familiar with those verses; to others, they were hearing them for the first time there and then. The thing was his voice....it started off loud and thunderous and as he progressed into the description of the birth of this poor character, his voice softened at times in certain areas, and would suddenly grow louder in others. It was an amazing crescendo. Almost like listening to an orchestra but telling a story with song. His face twisted with emotion and feelings, and his body moved and he gestured and moved with every word.
"I want you to read the first four chapters and write me a summary of your understanding .......our next meeting is on Thursday, double period boys and girls......ha ha ha! He chuckled,...this ought to be fun!”
He picked up his case and just as swiftly as he had walked into class, this mysterious but incredibly intriguing stranger, left our lives. Wow! I shouted and the whole class went into a frenzy of discussions; who is that man? He is the new teacher they have been talking about who transferred from F.G.C. Kano (Federal Government College). Rumour had it that he was very controversial because his teaching methods were somewhat unconventional. I was in class 2 and as far as I was concerned, this man was goddddd! He blew me away.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
ORDINARY PEOPLE
Like most ordinary people, I know that we are all different and are meant to achieve goals and have diverse gifts and talents. Not everyone is meant to be rich or famous, glamorous or beautiful; the list goes on.
It's a blessing to have a mixture in life in this manner. Perfection is not so common in the human race;except of course those who have come near it, either in career or personal life.
Can you imagine what our world would be today without ordinary people? I mean those people who you think really have no meaning in your life....say the newspaper man, or that dirty little girl who lives down the lane always picking her nose. It could be the bagger in the grocery store, or the pharmacist in your local pharmacy. These people are the most important people in your life because they help make you feel superior and special, but to you, they are insignificant.
Your perfect world would come crashing down if they did not exist, you would cease to be so almighty because there would be no one to look do upon, and wow....you would be just as they are: ordinary.
These unimportant people are the ones who make your farce of an existence worthwhile, they give your ego the enormous boost it needs to sustain it...suddenly you realize that your giant existence, is in a very small world indeed.
Take me for instance, an average person in many ways; not too short, nor to be considered tall. Not too ordinary looking as far as attractiveness goes, and when it comes to accomplishments or status, I would be right there in the below the margin line. This may seem dismal to many and some may wonder why I choose to describe myself as such.......you know what they say, to each his own. In all of this somehow I still find peace and satisfaction in my world.
The very balance of life would break if we were all equal and the same. As ordinary as I have described my reality, there are still some who would consider my world wonderful and near perfect; and then there are still some who would consider those who find my world wonderful, to be in a wonderful world themselves and this goes on . My take is that somehow, this is how its all supposed to be. Some may say that this is an unfair balance, but i say it is predictable.
At some point in life we all get a shot at something big, now this will of course be determined by the standard and level at which you are placed in this chain of balance. I also believe in the after life, so if you have not had yours in this life,perhaps in previous manifests you did. So before man can begin to feel all smug and special, let us weigh the balances and consider this; that man who presently cleans your toilet may have been the one whose excrement, say a few hundred years back, you tasted because he was considered some freaking god or king (like in the case of the Chinese), or something. Can you really imagine this? They actually had poo poo tasters back then!
If you really think about it, stranger things have happened in human history, consider the possibilities eh...mind boggling.
As for me and this belief I have, I've decided to be kinder and gentler with strangers. This way I can limit the possibility of my total destruction and humiliation, that is assuming it has not already happened.
Some of you would be thinking right about now....what do you call this life you have now?.....Yeah.... I get it, but still hear me out. Be kinder! Take that extra minute or two to show appreciation, say thank you to the doorman or the checkout lady at the grocery store.
These basic courtesies have never harmed any human, so lets face it, if my belief holds true, imagine this scenario. You wake up suddenly one day, and find yourself in the employment of someone you had not been too kind to. Don't forget this, now you are dead! people are still mourning you on earth, but you have moved on. Now you are in another plane of manifest and yes!.....it's poo poo platter people! enough said.....lets just be good to each other, it costs us nothing to be kind.
It's a blessing to have a mixture in life in this manner. Perfection is not so common in the human race;except of course those who have come near it, either in career or personal life.
Can you imagine what our world would be today without ordinary people? I mean those people who you think really have no meaning in your life....say the newspaper man, or that dirty little girl who lives down the lane always picking her nose. It could be the bagger in the grocery store, or the pharmacist in your local pharmacy. These people are the most important people in your life because they help make you feel superior and special, but to you, they are insignificant.
Your perfect world would come crashing down if they did not exist, you would cease to be so almighty because there would be no one to look do upon, and wow....you would be just as they are: ordinary.
These unimportant people are the ones who make your farce of an existence worthwhile, they give your ego the enormous boost it needs to sustain it...suddenly you realize that your giant existence, is in a very small world indeed.
Take me for instance, an average person in many ways; not too short, nor to be considered tall. Not too ordinary looking as far as attractiveness goes, and when it comes to accomplishments or status, I would be right there in the below the margin line. This may seem dismal to many and some may wonder why I choose to describe myself as such.......you know what they say, to each his own. In all of this somehow I still find peace and satisfaction in my world.
The very balance of life would break if we were all equal and the same. As ordinary as I have described my reality, there are still some who would consider my world wonderful and near perfect; and then there are still some who would consider those who find my world wonderful, to be in a wonderful world themselves and this goes on . My take is that somehow, this is how its all supposed to be. Some may say that this is an unfair balance, but i say it is predictable.
At some point in life we all get a shot at something big, now this will of course be determined by the standard and level at which you are placed in this chain of balance. I also believe in the after life, so if you have not had yours in this life,perhaps in previous manifests you did. So before man can begin to feel all smug and special, let us weigh the balances and consider this; that man who presently cleans your toilet may have been the one whose excrement, say a few hundred years back, you tasted because he was considered some freaking god or king (like in the case of the Chinese), or something. Can you really imagine this? They actually had poo poo tasters back then!
If you really think about it, stranger things have happened in human history, consider the possibilities eh...mind boggling.
As for me and this belief I have, I've decided to be kinder and gentler with strangers. This way I can limit the possibility of my total destruction and humiliation, that is assuming it has not already happened.
Some of you would be thinking right about now....what do you call this life you have now?.....Yeah.... I get it, but still hear me out. Be kinder! Take that extra minute or two to show appreciation, say thank you to the doorman or the checkout lady at the grocery store.
These basic courtesies have never harmed any human, so lets face it, if my belief holds true, imagine this scenario. You wake up suddenly one day, and find yourself in the employment of someone you had not been too kind to. Don't forget this, now you are dead! people are still mourning you on earth, but you have moved on. Now you are in another plane of manifest and yes!.....it's poo poo platter people! enough said.....lets just be good to each other, it costs us nothing to be kind.
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