Archive for the ‘writing and blogging’ Category

Just friends🤓

One of the greatest things that life gifts you is friendship. 

Once you get a true friend…a heavy heart becomes as light as a feather.  

A tear never completes its journey. The trail ends abruptly due to a light touch.  

Tomorrow feels bright and colorful. 

Happiness becomes you and you become an example of life’s greatest rebirths. 

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Mum’s picture

I was in the market today and I just sat in the passenger seat looking at every single person walking on the road. I watched them and categorised them. They were mostly stereotypes. The pregnant housewife with a baby on her back, a child holding her hand and bags of groceries on the other. College girls cat walking dreaming of marriage to a rich and handsome man. Local hoodlums with cheap earpieces in their ears thinking of the drugs and alcohol and girls they’ll get later in the night; looking forward to the next robbery they’ll make.

While I was busy stereotyping, at the back of my mind I knew I was in a crowded area and hadn’t forgotten that the last bombing was not far from where I was. I thought to myself, what if the car beside me has a bomb in it? Or what if one of these people walking pulls out gun and starts firing sporadically or a hijacker enters the drivers seat and kidnaps me? Questions questions questions.

I have seen the worst in a crisis before, one time a teenager placed a really long dagger on my throat- at the time I was 12 – and asked me to pray, another time, I watched in horror as a mob pounced on a man and poured petrol on him and set him alight, I also watched  youths like me as  they ate another human being “an act done in war, they said”.

I would have thought that after witnessing all this I should be immune to fear but fear is still there. I have accepted the type of environment I am in and have adapted so much that I don’t fear death. The only thing I fear is how my death will be like.

I don’t want to die in the hands of another human being, I don’t want to die painfully… I just want a smooth passing. When I say these things to my friends they look at me like I am some sort of psycho but I will not live in self denial or close my eyes to the probabilities.

Let me not divert from the main message here though. Do I want to be a stereotype?( If death doesn’t come early) A girl who gets married eventually, secures some sort of menial job, have children, cook, clean, watch tv, eat and sleep, get grandchildren and then die?? No.

That is not what life is supposed to be like. I want to see the world, find love (not this generation’s version of love but our grandparents/great grandparents version, do something great. Not be too rich but just finding a balance.

I will not settle for normal. I will be the girl wearing a red shirt among other people wearing blue shirts. I will settle for different. Let them talk, let them say and think what they want. They aren’t me and will never be me.

In a very tiny column in today’s paper there is a notice from a parent asking his son to come for his mother’s burial. Immediately, I thought of abandonment.

This is a half fictional/realistic reconstruction from my imagination – out of many scenarios – of what might have caused this.

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A bundle of joy he was for me and my wife. Tiny legs, flailing arms, loud cries, beautiful smiles, white big eyes and a very complicated digestive system; all memories none of us would ever forget. I remember the time he put his finger in the chilli sauce and proceeded to rub his eyes😱, my wife cried rain that day and my little boy… I guess all I can say is I couldn’t use the phrase “like a man”.

I watched him grow but then we had to train him so he wouldn’t have a sad life. We wanted to protect him because we loved him so much and we didn’t want any harm done to him. We were very watchful of his movements, we thought him right from wrong, we watched the people he hung around and we made sure we advised him constantly all the while giving him space to experience things and learn from his mistakes

Everything we did worked. He grew into a fine young man and we let him pursue his dreams. He had been gone for three years when we heard he was successful and married with kids. Where did we go wrong to deserve such treatment from our own child? Is it because we are illiterates or because we haven’t adapted very well to a rapidly growing world full of things that are not human but talk back to us? Huge birds that carry people in the sky?

We left him and thought that perhaps he would find his way back, maybe he was just too busy. My wife wanted to go to him and confront him because she was very hurt. I discouraged her but she went anyways. He came back to us and we met our grandchildren. But after that, we had to go pay visits. Anytime my wife went to see him, she would always come back crying. Our son treated her like a housemaid and it seemed the only time he called her was when he and his wife were travelling, so my wife could babysit.

She finally stopped going. I could see her agony and her sadness. Slowly she went into depression and got paralysed. It was not a burden on me because she was still the same beautiful, kind woman I married. My woman.

It was painful to see her go through that. I always wanted to die with her because the thought of being without her was unimaginable. She died but not before blessing our son. Up till her last days she kept praying for him. I could never understand her love; that type of love, because as far as I knew he was not my son anymore just something I produced.

I don’t think he’ll see my notice. I don’t know where he is now or how to find him but I want my wife to die in peace. If he isn’t present I can only hope the love I gave her would suffice.

This is from the perspective of good parents. I’m pretty sure some parents are cruel and that is what causes their children to forget them when they grow. But in most cases, it is the former that happens. 

The irony is, children who had bad parents want to see the good in their parents and children from good parents don’t have the time.

It is very easy to forget the ones who brought us up when we’re trying to create a life for ourselves  and to forget those who were there for us before we became successful.

Image from ripleeforensicpsych.umwblogs.org

I celebrate 2015 because

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  • I am still alive and my loved ones have not been harmed despite all the bombs that went off near us
  • There’s a roof over my head
  • An endless supply of cloths
  • I have the luxury of choosing whether to eat roasted chicken or grilled fish, sleep on my bed or the Sitting Room sofa, disturb the ants or go swimming, watch The Mentalist or RudeTube…
  • My limbs are still in two’s
  • My senses work perfectly
  • I still have a mother to frown at and disturb
  • I still have  a father to tease about the boys that stare
  • I still have a grandmother and a grandfather; which means an endless supply of blessings and prayers
  • The acne has refused to go and the cold is coming which means my body still functions perfectly.
  • Some people don’t like me which means there is nothing wrong with me.

The list goes on.

Image from http://www.funnypica.com

I am pleased to receive this award not because of the praise but because it means that people actually take the time to read my words. I have been nominated by Sam Rappaz, a very talented blogger. And I don’t say this just because she nominated me but because I have thought this of her ever since I visited her blog.

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Rules for the award

  1.  Thank the person who nominated you and add a link to their blog
  2.  Display the award on your post
  3.  List the award rules so your nominees will know what to do
  4. State 7 things about yourself
  5. Nominate 15 other bloggers for the award
  6. Contact your nominees to let them know you have nominated them. Provide a link to your post.
  7. Proudly display the award logo (or buttons) on your blog, whether on your side bar, ABOUT page, or a  special page for awards

7 THINGS ABOUT ME

  1.  I smile when I hear bad news. A very bad thing but completely involuntary.
  2.  I tend to have an “avoid males syndrome”.  And I am as straight as they come so don’t get any      ideas in your pretty little heads.
  3. I am very sorry if this will annoy anyone. I do not like Justin Bieber. And yes I am 100% female and a full fledged teenager.
  4. Cooking and house chores!! ugh! I hate them but I have no choice but to do them, as it is a task females have to endure.
  5. I have almost every genre of music. And I say MUSIC not NOISE. Yes! Most of today’s music is noise so I survive on the few good ones and my grandma’s and mother’s old  tapes.
  6. My shoes don’t survive. I can’t walk in them. So I purchase rugged shoes and avoid designers.

MY NOMINEES

  1. Eilihd at Journey Into The Mind of a Scottish Girl.
  2. Granonine at Just writing.
  3. Sammy Silva at The Heart Stories.
  4. Little Monster Girl at LMG comic updates
  5. ARK at Passionate Ambika
  6. Karthik at C9 photography
  7. Hardi at Fifty Shades of Reality
  8. Chatty Rachel at Rachel Being Chatty
  9. Ray Ferrer at Emotion on Canvas
  10. IRTFY at I Refuse To Follow Your Blog
  11. Aruna at Ripples and Reflections
  12. Amelia’s Plum
  13. Words Of Reckless Abandon
  14. Chotisi at Chostisibaatein
  15. From Where I Sit

Bloggers on the list above have very unique and beautiful blogs. Creativity, honesty, beauty, humour and all the other positive adjectives I can’t possibly remember now. There are also others that I would have put here but they’ve been nominated already; Nelkumi, SoulCPR, Livingonchi, Passion for Poetry etc. There are so many amazing bloggers in the blogosphere and I am happy I discovered you all!

Doing this really took most of my energy…PHEW!! Thank you again for nominating me Sam and allow me to borrow some of your words…

“The nominees I have listed NEED NOT DO ANYTHING if they so wished. I just wanted them to know that I am here, reading and looking over their blogs and that their work has meant something to me”

Happy New Year All!!

My Apologies

Posted: December 26, 2014 in writing and blogging
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Hey! I just needed to apologize for my momentary absence. My colleagues and I went to shoot a movie in the forest and the Internet connection was bad! I won’t be here for a while because we’re still going back there so Happy New Year in advance.

Just hoping and praying the terrorists aren’t lurking in those forests…. Bad joke! I know. But really… I am super edgy but my mind isn’t exactly restless or anything so I know I and my crew will be back safe and sound.

I will really miss everyone’s posts 😳 sigh. Till we see again! And thank you so much Sam Rappaz for the award!

CAUTIONARY ADVICE: if you’ve had a bad day, do not read this. Depending on how emotional you are, this writeup might be depressing for you and might make your day worse. Come back some other time if you wish.

Today was a sad day for many. A terrorist attack at a café in Sydney, Australia, left two dead including the gunman. I hate speaking about tragic events because it just makes me sad and downcast. But I have to because, so many people take a lot of things for granted while others are aware but choose not to SEE because they cannot face the truth. And the truth to many is brutal; one thing about it is that it may piss you off at first but it will set you free.

cropped-img_0709.jpg Life is an endless circle. Generations come and go, but the earth lasts forever. The sun rises, and the sun sets, and then it rushes back to the place where it will rise again. The wind blows toward the south and shifts toward the north. Round and round it blows. It blows in a full circle. All streams flow into the sea but the sea is never full. The water finds it way back to the place where the streams began in order to start flowing again.

Whatever has happened before will happen again. Whatever has been done before will be done again.

People always say the world will be better and life will be good. In my own opinion, the world was, is and will always be “better”. Life IS good. Some of us fail to realise, that everything happening on earth took place before. There is nothing new under the sun.

People killed each other before; they stole and committed all sorts of crimes. When World War One occurred, victims and witnesses thought that was the end. Those of us that weren’t born yet only have archive footages and books. But we will never understand or feel the terror of those that witnessed it. That is why we think everything that is happening today is worse than events of past times.

I see everything as pointless. Everything turns out the same way for everyone. All people will share the same destiny, whether they are good or bad. And that thing is death. But I know that people who are alive have more hope than those that are dead. All of us who live know that we will die but the dead know nothing. They are gone forever. What reward is there for them? The memory of them will fade and they can’t take part in anything that happens on earth.

So what do I say for us who are all alive?

  1.  Enjoy life with those we love. This is what we get for our hard work
  2. Whatever presents itself for us to do, do it with all of our might because there is no knowledge, planning or skill in the grave where we’re all going

The two people that died today probably woke up thinking “o! Another beautiful day or stressful day!” It is also possible that they were not satisfied, happy, contented or at peace with themselves. They might have been planning on doing something, all the while postponing or procrastinating.

Even if people may live for many years, they should enjoy every one of them while remembering that there will be many dark days. Live boldly making sure that you put wisdom first. The clock is ticking and everyday we age.

Nothing is new. Nothing from the past is remembered. A Quote by Aristotle:

Remember that time slurs over everything, let all deeds fade, blurs all writings and kills all memories. Exempt are only those which dig into the hearts of men by love.

And in the future, those who come after us will remember nothing.

Let us remember those who were affected in today’s attack and all those who are suffering presently. It could or can be one of us. All we have is time and no one knows when it will stop ticking for us. Enjoy life; don’t die sad and miserable.

If you are thinking “o I am too old”, stop. You are never too old to do anything. You might look in the mirror and see wrinkles, sagged skin and baggy eyes but know that age is in the heart. If you feel old you will act old but if you feel young at heart you will act young. It is all about perception.

REFERENCE: The book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible.

You might not be religious but it is not wrong to study. The Bible is also a book.

The following story you are about to read is my form of research. This is the best way I can address real life issues and it works for me. It is about the terrorism in my country…Nigeria. Their brutal methods and lack of humanity.

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Guns, fire, machetes, loud cries, popping sounds, blood! Blood everywhere! What is happening? I see them in their hundreds. Some are on foot while others are on bikes. They are everywhere! Where is mother and father? They said they would protect me! Where are they?!  I need them! My little brother and sister are wailing! I can’t attend to them now… I need to run.

It was peaceful this morning. I and my friends went to pluck mangoes from our neighbour’s orchard and he chased us with a very long stick. We were laughing but we still got the mangoes. They were very delicious. Daddy bought me a lollipop although mother is always against me taking sugar. They worked it out though…

O no! I can’t run. They are here. Two of them. They are dressed in dirty trousers and torn shirts. They have shawls wrapped around their necks and their heavy boots are dusty. Both of them have guns and bullets wrapped around their bodies. There are knives on their belts.

I don’t know whether to be scared or not. My hands are shaking and my sister and brother won’t stop crying. One of them go to the mattress where my siblings are. He picks my brother up. No! Mama said to take care of him! He removes his knife and…

I see blood! More blood! My feet are numb. I can’t move. I don’t understand… My brother he’s not crying anymore neither is my sister. I am half happy that the annoying noise has stopped and half scared. What does it mean?? They are about to leave but one of them brings out a matchbox and creates fire. I don’t like fire. One time I put my hand in a candle flame and it hurt. I see my mother rushing in. I want to go to her but the other one seizes her by her veil.

“We will keep this one eh…” He laughs and injures her with his knife.

There is fire everywhere… I can’t stand it. I run out of the house and into the hands of the man. My mother…she sees me. She is crying. I want to go to her. The other one slaps me! Father is the only one allowed to slap me! I beat him back but he laughs wickedly. He releases me and I run to mother.

They have put us in the back of a truck. I can’t see anything. They put a cloth around my eyes. Are we playing hide and seek? Is this a game? I don’t like this game.  The journey is long and tiring. Finally! It has stopped. My eyes hurt! The sunlight is sharp and intense. They are pushing me and mother. I see other people. Some are looking so thin. Oh my! Where is that old man’s legs… What are they doing to him. Pop! He’s lying still now. My mother… she covers my eyes.  I want to bathe, I am hungry.

It is two days now and I have not eaten or bathed. I heard mother screaming yesterday. She made me promise to close my eyes so I couldn’t see why she was screaming. When I opened them, I saw her at the corner. She was praying. Her clothes were torn and her face was bruised.

I am in a car now. I don’t know where they are taking me. It is very hot and they beat me for complaining about the Hijab they made me wear. My mother screamed as she watched me go. I don’t know why she was screaming. They said that if I did what they said, I could go home with mama back to daddy, but if I didn’t, they would make mama cry. The thing they’ve wrapped around me is poking my belly and arms. It is too heavy but I will do what they want so they can take me back home. Then I will play with my friends in the stream and steal apples from my neighbour’s orchard. Then go to school and read those books with nice little pictures in them.

I come down from the car and go to where the market stall is. They are watching me. They said to look for where people are. I see them. I see small people like me laughing. I see big people watching a football match. I see women doing their hair. O how I hate doing my hair… Boom!!!!

This is now the terrorists M.O. Using small children mostly girls as suicide bombers. I have no idea what leads to it though. This is just how I imagine it happening. This week a ten year old girl was arrested after being caught wearing a suicide vest under her Hijab.

Reality hurts.

I sat down on the steps of the bungalow knotting up the hair of my Barbie doll, although, at the time it looked like I was doing something beautiful. I chose that day to wear my favorite English dress.

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My grandfather brought it all the way from England for me as a birthday present. It was white and had these little rosy petals on it. I never liked to wear dresses but this particular one was quite pretty.

I hummed the nursery ryhme “Twinkle, twinkle little star” while I worked. My mother was at work and my father was… somewhere. A noise however interrupted my little project. I looked up and saw my brother and his friends riding down the slope.

They stopped in front of the house. My brother climbed off his bicycle. After ruffling my hair, he went inside to drink some water. His friends came up to me and sat on the steps.

I saw them earlier so there was no need to exchange greetings. There was no need for formality since they were my friends as well. I never got along with the girls.

My brother came out of the house wiping his mouth with his sleeve. I looked up to him, “Where are you going next?” I asked.

I could stay alone for days and wouldn’t mind but this time I felt like doing something.

“We’re going to climb those rocks over there”.

I grinned. He looked down at me narrowing his eyes

“Miriam… no”

I gave him the little kitten look. His friends all tried to persuade him.

“You know mama won’t like that”

“How? She will”. I said in a soft voice.

“Are you going like that?”

I squealed in delight and looked down at my dress. I shrugged “Yes. The rocks aren’t so high”.

He nodded and I dropped my Barbie doll on a nearby chair.

I got my little bicycle and climbed. We rode to the rocks and parked.

The rocks were not so steep but my brother and his friends made a fuss over me. Ensuring that I was in front of them; helping me maintain my balance. It annoyed me a bit but they let me come with them and I had to take that into consideration.

We reached the top and we saw a tree. It was very healthy and not too tall. There were little creamy colored things hanging from it. They looked like peaches.

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We all went to the tree and our friend plucked the fruit. It had little hairs on it and appeared succulent. The whole thing made my mouth water.  He spoke, “I think I know this fruit”. He opened it easily. It had a yellowish interior with little seeds in it. We all plucked ours and went through the same process. I popped one of the seeds into my mouth and sucked it.

It had a sweet and sour taste. I liked it and so did the others. We gathered some more and carried it back down the rock. I placed mine into the little basket in front of my bicycle.

As we rode back, I started to feel a little bit uncomfortable. My brother and his friends were unusually quiet. I blinked rapidly because the road was becoming blurry.

“I feel sick,” my brother said.

His friends were all scratching parts of their bodies. Suddenly, it hit me full force. It was like millions of needles were piercing my skin. I stopped riding and started to scratch my body. I didn’t know which part was itching me. My fingers were everywhere.

It felt like time stopped and I remember running fast. Really fast. Tom and Jerry FAST. At some point our friends disappeared one after the other and it was just my brother and I.

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We pulled each other. It was suddenly crab mentality… king of the hill competition.

I had no idea why we were doing that until we got home. It was a race to the shower. We just wanted some relief and we didn’t care how we got it as long as the itching stopped.

My brother and I got to the bathroom. I entered it before he did but he pulled me out and turned on the shower. I started to cry and curse him.

I felt like crying, laughing and pulling out my hair all at once. I heard my brothers frantic scratching. Water was flying everywhere.

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I saw the sink and I did something I never thought I’d do. I ripped my pretty, pretty, pretty dress off. Tore it to shreds. I turned on the faucet and threw water on my body. It just wasn’t enough. I cursed my brother… “I hate you!! I hate you!!! I wish you weren’t my brother! Bloody hell!!”. Got the last curse from Ron in the Harry potter movie.

We both turned that bathroom into a swimming pool. I got so frustrated that the adrenaline rush hit me. I shoved my brother out of the shower and stayed under it. The itching continued for hours, although the cold water toned it down a bit.

My mother… “sigh”. She dealt with us. That was no fruit. It was definitely not a fruit.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wronged Objects.”

If your furniture, appliances, and other inanimate objects at home had feelings and emotions, to which item would you owe the biggest apology?
(Thanks for suggestion a similar prompt, zaji!)

I renamed my Canon 550D Eric. He was sleek, fast, unique and so alive! He wasn’t just an “it”. When I hit him mistakenly, he’d refuse to shine his beautiful light. If I didn’t clean him, he’d look so dull. If I didn’t use him, he’d enter my thoughts and I’d just have to go pick him from the top shelf  made specially for him. He loved my attention and I loved his beautiful pictures. He was able to capture, captivate and inspire.

But I betrayed him. He wanted only me to use him but I rented him out. They tortured him and when I got him back, he needed to be treated surgically. I should not have given him to that man for repairs.  I just wanted my Eric back. I forgot to think about facts, such as: Do I know this man? Can I trust him with my prized possession?

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months.  It’s been exactly one year since I last saw Eric and I have no idea where he is. Instead all I am left with is the mini white box he came in, sitting on his shelf.  He was only one and a half years old and hadn’t even showed his full potential.

No one will ever treat your object like you do.

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