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!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A PICTURE OF YESTERDAY.................

She remembers it like it was yesterday, that day in the scorching heat of the Lagos sun as she walked down the street just by the stall of that Hausa man; the one who sold sweets and cigarettes, they called him papa Sule.

Do you remember him now? You saw her from a distance and ran across the street to meet her, and in that ever happy and excited tone you asked where she was heading. She used to think you were annoying and bothersome, but she still liked you and she reluctantly replied that she had to run an errand for her mom.

You offered to go with her but she said no, even though she secretly hoped that you would insist because she did not like going by the next street alone. Some local boys usually hung around there, and their wolf whistles would scare the hell out of her. Just as she hoped, you insisted and together you both walked along the edge of the road side gutters, stepping left or right in alternation in order to avoid a pothole or an open street gutter.

She remembers it like it was yesterday, her thinking as they walked along, "what does this boy want from me?
Why does he linger like a festering sore? Why? Especially since all she does is pick at the scabs.Why does he smile all the time, and laugh at the silliest of things she does or says? He must be retarded, mad or both. She believed that one day soon, he would pick another thing to obsess about and go away.

She remembers it like yesterday, the day he told her that she was the love in his life and of his life. She laughed nervously and asked if all was okay with him. Surely he was delirious or confused, what would a boy his age know about love?

Love of his life indeed, it's the same old story; teenage boy after a quick make out or sex perhaps? She had heard from her friends about such declarations and how the particular offender was often laughed to scorn. This they did after teasing and leading him on and even sharing a kiss or two; but here she was, never been kissed or shared any form of passion, either physically or in imagination and yet she's being pursued and told by some moronic boy that she was the love of his life.

That was some twenty odd years ago, and yet she remembers it like it was yesterday. As she looked back, a smile creeps up on her lips and lights up her face.She looks up and stares at a picture of her yesterdays thoughts; and just as all those years ago, he looks back at her.Eyes still glittering and smiling as if the years had stood still; and in that moment her eyes are filled with tears. She realizes that her yesterdays love and face still stares boldly at her, and as he had told her all those years ago, she also realizes that she looks into the eyes and face of the love in her life, and of her life....her husband, who knew even before time wore out it's space; that his love would stand the test and it would win.

Constants In Life?

There are many constants in life. We know for sure that night falls and day breaks. Now this is in the general concept of night being the end of day, and dawn the beginning. This of course does not mean that night time has to be indicated by darkness, and day time by light; because as we know in this part of the cosmos we call earth, there are places where night time is not shrouded by darkness, neither is light an indication of day time.

Then there is the constant of life and death, being born, growing, getting older and then there is also dieing. There is the constant of time being the master of all; there is none able to go faster than time, or dictate to time, but rather we all work with time and are ruled by time.

The list goes on......these constants are what we have as yard sticks to keep us in check, and they measure our life, our beliefs and how we choose to live. According to the famous words of Maya Angelou - No man can know where he is going unless he knows exactly where he has been and exactly how he arrived at his present place.. Those who seek enlightenment or want to make sense of this cycle called living, begin to seek for answers to help steady their paths and beliefs. But most essentially is the fact that our beliefs and the things we hold dear, are what shapen and guide our footprints.

In our quest for answers, some seek for and find answers in religious faith such as Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, New age religions or even in atheism. The atheist believes in a scientific explanation and logic to everything, while other faiths hold on to a pathway that leads to enlightenment or fulfillment. The fact of the matter is that these constants are what shapes our existence as human beings


Once born, nature dictates that we evolve: hence we grow physically, mentally, emotionally and otherwise. As life is not equal, there are those with afflictions either mentally or physically which somehow prevent or affect such growth; but nevertheless, these individuals still under go growth changes in some form or the other. So the constant of birth and growth is still fulfilled, but perhaps not according to what is considered norm.

So we get old ......and then we die; death is achieved in diverse ways, either naturally through old age or untimely, by illness or accident. It does not matter how, death still comes.

If we are to set aside our diverse and various beliefs, does it not matter what legacy we leave behind?

Does it not matter how we live, if we are truly concerned about the world we live in?

If there is any shred of decency in us, should it not matter how we live our lives in regard to others?

The belief in God alone is not sufficient to make us better human beings, it's all about the way we choose to live our lives.

WHEN YOU DRINK OF THE CUP

Those privileged to drink of the cup of love and goodwill, surely never have the heart to go in the opposite direction of their convictions.

These are people who find it difficult to relax and carry on with life as normal, when they know that their fellow man is suffering in one form or the other.

The road a person with conscience takes, often times leads to untold suffering and lack, in one form or another; nevertheless it never stops them from taking that road. This is the only road they know and which they use to get to their destination. Having a conscience and listening to your conscience are two different things. As with all things in life, despite it being inborn or innate, still requires harnessing and nurturing; without which, a conscience dies a natural death.

Who or what is a man of conscience? He/she is one blessed with a certain quality and spirit that naturally gravitates towards good. Although no way near perfect in their ways, they somehow by divine grace and intervention strive and struggle to reflect the divine in human form. These are not limited to a particular sect, religion or belief. They are just children of the divine.

In our quest to resemble the divine, we have often times stepped out of the light into darkness and still claim or think we are reflections not only of the Divine, but vessels of light. This grave error is as a result of not listening to, harnessing or nurturing our conscience or spirit of the divine within us, which should and is meant to be our moral compass and guide.

Without a conscience or moral compass, how can we ever resemble the divine? How can we find our way home, when we do not recognize what home should be? Once we deviate from the labour and sacrifice which love is and requires, we instantly become "empty vessels". Why, because we lack love, hence we lack conscience or moral compass. This leads us to the point where arrogance, selfish pride, haughtiness and everything un-divine takes center stage.

Once center stage, pride, arrogance and brute-force wants us to hold on to something to affirm our faith or belief, no matter how absurd, ridiculous, ungodly or inhuman. As far back as history has documented, beliefs come in different forms and mans obsessions to impose a belief system on his fellow man strives from the lack or absence of love or conscience, and has been an insatiable drive. History has shown over centuries, the many atrocious acts man has committed against his fellow man, all in the same breathe of making straight the path of a mans heart.

We want to shove, ram and force our beliefs down another mans throat and still belief we work with and for the divine. Many schools of spiritual learning have existed and many names and titles have been given to these; each in its own right has either laid claims to superiority or the true place to be. All have at one time or the other arrogated sole knowledge of the true self to its organization and to date, we still witness the battle between them all, but in more of a civilized manner (if there is anything as such).

Today the world is filled with so many choices and in many places, we are still blessed with the dignity of choice on how to express these beliefs we all clearly have, even the atheist amongst us. So where is all this leading mankind to, and how are we really to shape the generations to come, if we are still knee deep in this confusion of faith and belief. I can only approach situations from the known and gradually descend into the unknown. My known fact is that I acknowledge myself as a person who believes in the birth, death and rebirth of Jesus Christ; so in our known world that makes me a christian.

Having said that, I don't have too much theological knowledge of the Bible or Christianity for that matter, but what I do know of, I have come about by pure spiritual intervention and grace. I know that commonsense is not so common as we all think, else we would basically not have the many contradictions and silliness that exists in the world today.

It does not take a genius to know that in order to receive respect, kindness, love etc...one simply has to make sure that such is their disposition at all times. Now, because man is fallible, this is where the spirit of love should come into play, if we allow it. Love being a sacrifice demands forbearance (which is patience, tolerance and forgiveness) and  justification (which is the spirit of kindness, empathy and consideration). These again, are basic senses, which are part and parcel of ones conscience that man possess from birth, but which again, requires nurturing.

Having these attributes and being able to practice them surely have no bearing on whether you are a believer of Christ, Mohamed, Buddha or whatever it is we claim to believe in. This is a divine gift to whoever the spirit of the divine chooses to bless with it. So as a believer in the doctrines of Jesus Christ, the christian Bible holds a significant place in my heart, and it is on these words in it that I try to draw strength and guidance from. I also have a personal opinion that what we know as the Bible is somewhat not complete and has lost some authenticity through the ages. The general foundation of it's contents is what most Christian's base their belief system on.

Regardless of what pathway we choose to approach the divine, certain qualities that are reflective of the divine are what helps us to be better human beings. So going from the known to the not so known, I can comfortably say that in a world where there are so many so called believers in God, the Muslims and the dedicated Buddhists; it is so clear the appalling indifference man displays when it comes to forbearance for each other.

The mind of a man who has drank of the cup of compassion and righteousness has a totally different make up. It does not just see the self: it knows and acknowledges the connection of all, the brotherhood of life. The vital awareness of mans responsibility not only to his fellow man, but to all creation. Drinking of the cup is for all mankind and requires dedication and discipline.

It is not limited to those who believe in Christ, Allah or the Buddhist. Christ came not to establish a religion but a way of life. The ability to live the way of life promoted by Christ is what I believe unifies all religion and spiritual paths, that tries to teach a pathway to the divine. Many have a system which enables them see life in two colours, black or white. What then happens to the in-between? That shaded area which constitutes the magnitude of what we need to know but don't. It represents the full knowledge and understanding of the divine, and entrance into that area is by invitation only.

The invitation is love.

The cup is love.

The drink itself is love and the pathway is love.