Rape's silent victims .. Abia State Video-taped rape cont.

The Abia State commissioner of police has said there is no case to answer as he has watched the video and the victim did NOT resist. I guess in his world, a woman being raped by 5 men for HOURS, while she cries in pain, begs and pleads for them to stop, until finally falling silent in anguish and exhaustion, is actually writhing in joy and moaning with pleasure. Maybe she should have leapt up, overpowered all 5 attackers, beaten them up, hand-cuffed them, and dragged them to the police station. Maybe that might, just might, have led this intelligent commissioner to accept a brutal gang-rape had taken place.

Let's face it, if there had been no video, there wouldn't even be a story. No-one would have believed the girl even if she screamed the story from the roof-tops. However, there was a video, put out on the internet by the rapists, absolute indisputable clear evidence of a gang-rape AND still we have people in power who are MEANT to protect the victim arguing there is no rape because a single woman did not beat up FIVE men!

However Nigeria is changing slowly. The horror of the Abia rape has caused the press to cover other rape stories. A 15 year old girl kidnapped by a gang of 8 in Lagos and held and raped continually for 2 weeks before the police caught them and rescued her. A female Youth Corper raped by 4 men in the North who 'cornered' her as she returned from her teaching post (2 of those rapists have been arrested). This week, there was a Nigerian news article about a man in his 30's in court for raping a 7 or 8yr old girl - however that is child abuse and a subject for a different blog notecard!

There is no justification of rape. It destroys lives, warps souls and leaves unending pain. Rape is NOT about sex - it is about power and control! In a time and era when there is unlimited access to free or paid sex, no rapist rapes because of the overwhelming need for sexual gratification. Pscheeew!

Let us also remember it is not only women who are raped. Men also get raped. 2 weeks ago, there was a news report of a 25yr old man in Scotland who was raped by another man on his way back home. The victim of this rape is not homosexual and he was not flaunting himself to his rapist in anyway (for those who believe it is the victim to blame). This 25yr old man was on his way home, when he was jumped, had a knife held to his throat and was then brutally raped and assaulted. His life, like the Abia State victim will NEVER be the same again.

Police and rape victim support groups all over the world know that most victims of male-on-male rape will NEVER talk about it, will NEVER tell their wives or girlfriends, will NEVER tell their friends, and will just try to live with the shame AND horror AND devastation AND nightmares.

Some men are victims of rape by women. I just read an article from Uganda about 3 women who have been arrested for carrying out a series of rapes over the last 3 years. These female rapists have at least 30 known male victims. The men were raped either by being drugged or by having a gun held to their heads. The police speculate the women who were caught with 17 condoms of semen were doing it for JUJU, because in Native Rituals in Uganda, male semen is considered potent.

Man's inhumanity to man knows no bounds. All over the world, more women than men are victims of rape - however the pain, shame, agony, horror, emotional devastation, physical pain, mental anguish suffered by both female and male victims is the same.

We have to speak up against rape otherwise it is an evil that will continue to flourish. Let us educate and raise our sons to flee from EVEN thinking about committing such evil. Let us warn our daughters to flee the temptation of also becoming rapists like the 3 Ugandan women. Let us educate ourselves that there is NO justification for rape under ANY circumstances. That includes marital rape - it is just as WRONG!

The fear of GOD is the beginning of wisdom. I have NOT said going to church or quoting scriptures is the beginning of wisdom. The FEAR of GOD is what imparts wisdom into the hearts of men. Godly fear causes us to flee evil. Let us raise the next generation to FEAR GOD and respect their fellow human beings.

xx

Insomnia .. the 'artistry' of no-sleep

Insomnia is nothing like sleepless in Seattle ..

There’s no cute kid trying to bring together two lonely sleepless hearts ..

No long conversations East Coast to West Coast ..

No perky blondes or handsome widowers.

Nope..

Insomnia is a lot more interesting –

It is channel surfing,

book flipping,

bible reading,

prayer thrown in,

tossing & turning in a too-big bed.

Water drinking,

bb messaging ..
phone web surfing ..

loo hopping (see water drinking)

mind scenario jumping (hopping)

but no matter what u do

no eyelid dropping (drooping) ..

Insomnia is advice begetting ..

Concerned friend remedies ..

Scoldings & tongue-lashings ..

Sympathy & patronising if-you-only-do-this talking:

Down this drink, pop this herbal remedy,

Walk 5 miles, exercise into exhaustion – (phew!)

Your friends think its all in your mind ..

It is mind over matter.

Who has been a sentinel through the endless hours of the night 

& watched the skies turn from pitch black to the soft haze of dawn,

And then bright light?

Who has sat & hand-held & shoulder-given & gentle hug understood ..

Who has walked in the shoes of 8 hrs of seeking elusive sleep ..

Until finally the seeker stops seeking & becomes accepting ..

Insomnia is talent ..

Is hours of writing without stopping ..

Is ideas flooding ..

Is 'genius' unfolding..

Insomnia is ...

© 2010 Noir

Dame Patience Goodluck – a speech by our 1st lady.

I had a dream. Yes my fellow Nigerians - I had a DREAM in which I heard the eloquent rich voice of our first lady Dame Patience Goodluck speak words of great wisdom. Dame Patience was giving a speech to a diverse audience in her role as President Goodluck's wife and Nigerian's 1st lady.

The Dame's Speech:

To all “my fellow widows”, I would like to introduce my husband President Goodluck Jonathan. “My husband and Sambo is a good people”. Both of them will lead Nigeria to greatness. My husband and I have together “born” 2 children. To all those who say the PDP does not care about the younger generation, I would like to assure you that this president” was once a child and all the Senators were once a children”. “All the people sitting here before you here were all once a children”. So how can the president not care about the younger generation who are all child?

It is very distressing to me to learn about the bombings in our nation. “So to all those evil bombers, I say, Who born them? Wasn’t it not a woman? They were once a children, now a adult, now they are bombing women and children making some children a widow”. “My heart feels sorry for these children who have become widows by losing their parents for one reason or the other”.

However, let us not become downcast: Our great sportsmens and women have made us proud on the international scene. "To those who abuse our great sportsmen and women, remember “Yes we are all happy for the effort, remember it is not easy to CARRY SECOND in an international competition like this one”. “WE should always have love for our fellow Nigerians irrespective of their NATIONALITY.” Like my husband and Sambo once said "we are diverse in terms of different human species."

In conclusion, I promise to be Nigeria's 1st mother. As you are all aware, "A good mother takes care of HIS children" so bags of rice will continue to be distributed to all my good" children who have become widows by losing their parents."

So to all "my fellow Nigerians irrespective of their NATIONALITY", I ask you to join with “my Husband and Sambo” under the “UMBLERRA” that is the PDP and Nigeria. "COME APRIL ELECTIONS WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO PRESS YOUR HAND? IT SHOULD BE UMBLERRA."

(The End: as I jolted awoke from my dream landscape strewn with landmines of grammatical cluster nail bombs)

Ok, I hope you have all stopped rolling on the floor laughing like I did when I first came across some of our first lady's words. I've just simply strung together some of her more famous grammatical missteps into an imaginary speech. Now truly I am not mocking her because I actually find her words extremely funny but imagine my shock when I discovered that Dame Patience Goodluck has an NCE in Education, a BSC in Biology & Psychology and was a secondary school teacher for many years!

This is Nigeria!!!! Let us all gather under our Umblerras and reflect on the state of the Nigerian educational system. To those of us who grew up in Nigeria when our educational system was fantastic, I am still not sure whether to laugh or cry!

Happy 51st birthday Nigeria .. xx

Happy birthday my beloved Nigeria.

I love you to bits and pieces. I see all your flaws clearly but you'll always be my country, my homeland, the land of my ancestors.

Many today will weep and wail and gnash their teeth over you. I REFUSE to do that. Today I want to celebrate you. Your continued existence is a divine miracle.

Beautiful land, blessed by GOD, with blessings of the earth, awesome weather, hardy people, liquid gold.

Most of your 51 years have been painful ones. Raped, plundered, ravaged by those who are meant to care for you - your own leaders. You have suffered through numerous coups, a devastating civil war, injustice, greedy corrupt leaders, entrenched endemic corruption, the break-down of law & order, a society where most structures have collapsed BUT amazingly through all this, you have remained standing. Most societies that have experienced even one or two of these disasters have collapsed, been destroyed permanently, broken up into little pieces, but not you.

You smile patiently and hope for a better day. You fall but you keep rising, you never ever give up. Stripped and humiliated, you refuse to be stressed, depressed, broken, crushed. You are the boxer in the ring who is being battered by his opponent, eyes swollen, lips puffy, swaying, shuffling about blindly, barely able to stand, but still gamely at the sound of the bell lurching out for each round, doggedly refusing to give up, steadfastly ignoring & pushing away the towel everyone says you should throw in.

Birthed in hope, but growing up into sorrow, your wealth plundered, your people cheated, trampled upon and abused, your children (the hope of tomorrow) crushed & beaten, ignorance and superstition holding sway, religious leaders who loot the wealth and souls of the congregations they are meant to comfort & enrich, but despite all this, your people have inherited your optimistic spirit, an enduring believe tomorrow will be a better day.

You have not yet lived up to your potential but you are a walking medical miracle. Deliberately infected with the AIDS of a crushing foreign debt and stricken by the cancer of corruption, your continued survival continues to baffle the world as you have not wasted away into nothing. The doctors of the WEST declared 25 years ago that your debilitating diseases would kill you within 5 years, your political leaders bought your coffin and planned your funeral, but you have shocked them all by refusing to follow their script. You are the patient who REFUSES to die.

Happy happy happy 51st birthday Nigeria. May your next 51 years be happy, prosperous, fruitful ones. I wish you long life & prosperity, leaders who care, the end of corruption, the real fear of GOD, social justice, tenacious reformers, an independent judiciary, intellectuals who care about the masses, an elite that gives back, the dawning of a brand NEW day.

GOD bless you my love. May HIS mercy, grace and favour ALWAYS be extended to you.

Love you loads & loads .. xx

The VICTIM deserved it!! - Nigeria's Abia State gang rape's continuing saga.

OKAY – I am now officially incensed even further by the Abia gang rape! Puffs of furious smoke are spiralling out of my ears. Please keep away! Mad blogger on the war-path here!

So, what has brought this about?

Comments from a small minority of otherwise intelligent decent Nigerians BLAMING the victim of the rape! YES, YES, YES, according to them, the VICTIM deserved to be raped, brutalised, torn apart for HOURS, by FIVE, yes FIVE GROWN MEN! IT WAS ALL HER FAULT!

So what was this young lady’s supposed crime that debased and dehumanised her so greatly, that she became a worthy object of being treated less than an animal? Ah well, according to them, it must have been  the way that she dressed that led to her rape! OMG!!!!  Rape by dress sense??????!!!!!!!!

Ummm, I believe there are still a few villages in Africa and even in Nigeria where native dress means women go topless and wear just a wrapper around the waist? Hmmm, wonder why we don’t hear of mass rapes happening in those places?

Ok, ok, ok. Let’s be logical here and examine this argument carefully.  According to its advocates and proponents, if a woman dresses ‘seductively’, she brings rape down upon herself! Her poor hapless male rapist has no choice but to pounce upon her, tear off those offending clothes and brutalise her.  Now seductive is in the eye of the beholder, but if a woman wears a mini skirt, leggings, tight jeans, a figure hugging top, or a tight dress, then she is obvious fodder for rape. GOD help her if she is also pretty, fair-skinned and has a good figure! (Then she ALSO has a ‘mammy-water’ spirit and needs deliverance!)  From this, it is clear the real VICTIM is not the raped but the rapist! He is FORCED to do it! WOW!

I’ll offer a counter argument following this same logic: Nigerians who are attacked by armed robbers DESERVE to be attacked! After all, in a country with great poverty, how DARE the victims FLAUNT their ASSETS by driving flashy expensive cars and living in big houses? C’mon, it is OBVIOUS that victims of armed robbery are clearly ASKING for it! These wealthy aristo’s entice and tantalise the poor thieves who have no choice but to ROB them. As for the ones who come from ‘Abroad’, flaunting their $$$$ and £££££, it is the armed robber’s RIGHT to brutalise them! 

I DARE you to make the above argument to any Nigerian who has experienced the traumatic horror of an armed robbery. See if you’ll remain standing after ‘they DEAL with you!’

If we follow this thesis further, there should be NO rapes in Saudi Arabia or Egypt, both conservative Muslim countries where women dress modestly or ELSE! In Saudi, all women are forced to wear an Abaya, the long flowing gown which covers them from head to toe. Despite this, rapes still happen. Now it is true most of the reported rapes are of domestic staff but ordinary Saudi women get raped too. One very famous case involved a girl of 17 abducted and raped by SIX men! The Saudi Court’s judgement?  The VICTIM be jailed for 6 months and whipped with 200 lashes. What was her crime? Wasn’t she raped?  The court agreed she was raped by SIX men, but when the six men abducted her from a taxi, the young man she was with was not a family relation (which is a crime in Saudi). By the way, the young man was also raped by these SIX thugs. I wonder what my Naija peeps will argue HE did to deserve getting raped?? HMMMM!

What of Egypt? Sexual harassment is so bad in Egypt that Egyptian women try not to walk alone despite being dressed modestly and covered with a head scarf. Their modest dress does not prevent them from being groped and sexually and verbally harassed as they walk down Egyptian streets.

Seems like the power of conservative dress does not always protect against rape. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not advocating women should be half-naked – just pointing out that in societies where women dress modestly, rapes still happen.  There is therefore NO excuse before GOD for raping another human being.

Oh, btw, the victim in the Abia gang-rape was not dressed seductively. Her crime apparently is that she had OFFENDED one of the rapists. Hmmm, let’s think - what could her awful offence have been? Did he ask her out and she said no?  Did she look at him the wrong way? Or maybe she didn’t share her lecture notes? All we know is in his twisted mind, it was SO bad, the way to get even was to round up 4 of his friends so they could have a gang-rape 'party'! TEACH  her a good lesson! Don’t mess with the boyz!  

Can you hear how silly, stupid and totally senseless ANY reason justifying rape sounds?

All I know is this young girl is someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s niece, someone’s granddaughter, someone’s friend, someone’s future wife – so please before jumping on the she-must-have-deserved-it band-wagon, stop and think – what if she were my own ‘blood’? Ask yourself honestly - would ANYTHING that your (daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend, future wife) EVER does, cause her to DESERVE to be raped?

If your answer is yes, then you are a TOTAL MORON!

xx

Abia State gang rape - Nigeria's video-taped rape ordeal.

Nigerians have expressed shock at the case of the Abia gang-rape. 5 young men took it in turn to rape a female victim for hours, videotaping themselves while they did so, laughing and cracking jokes as they casually brutalised their weeping victim for hours. She knew them and begged them to stop but it made no difference. Afterwards the rapists put the video-tape on-line.

I was NOT shocked.  I believe the Nigerian society has failed to take rape seriously. Too often, we have turned a blind eye to rape’s existence or have blamed the victim. “Why did she go to her boyfriend’s house?”  “Why did she wear that mini-skirt?” “See the low-cut top that girl is wearing – if she is raped, she’ll begin to blame the poor guy!” For a rape victim to get sympathy and empathy, she had better be a conservatively dressed VIRGIN victim who is pounced upon on her way home with a knife held to her throat.

I have heard people ask why does rape matter so much and why do victims claim they are traumatised afterwards. “After all if a girl isn’t a virgin, then it is just sex which is not anything new to her, is it?” I have read contributors on social media forums claim this is another sign of Nigeria’s moral breakdown; such things did not happen back in the good old days.

Poppycock! Go back 20 - 30 years and many people know of friends who were raped by boyfriends or male friends in University.  I’ll share two stories of the many I’ve heard over the years:

A Muslim girl, shy and quiet but with a gentle sense of humour. Her life was changed forever in Uni after being raped brutally by the guy who was her bf. After that incident, she faded into the shadows, became a staunchly devout Islamist who began wearing a hijab (the scarf covering the head and wrapped around the neck) and no longer ever smiled.

A born-again Christian raped by someone she trusted.  Afterwards, she met another Christian student, got engaged and told him what happened. They got married but during the 15 years of their now ended marriage, he made it clear he could never forgive her for getting herself raped! She and her actions (his words) had deprived him of his right to have a virgin wife!

There are thousands of stories like that. Authorities are not informed, parents are never told and the woman tries to pick up the pieces of her torn shattered life and go forward with as much dignity as she can. God help her if she gets pregnant – often an illegal abortion is then seen as the only way out. If she is foolish enough to ask for help, she will be blamed, have her reputation tarnished and nothing will happen to the rapist. We are a culture that too often smiles and turns a blind eye to the antics of young men – boys will be boys.

The Abia State Governor at first denied the rape took place, said they could not be Abia State univeristy students, then ordered the state police to drop the investigation because in his words “the alleged victim had not reported the case!” Hmmmm, one wonders why a traumatised victim of a brutal gang-rape might not be in a fit state to come forward?? Fortunately the Nigerian Federal Government was shamed by 1000’s of ordinary dogged Nigerians on Social Networks who tracked down and identified a few of the men in the video. 3 of the alleged perpetrators have now been arrested and the alleged victim has also been located.

I see hope for my country. It gladdens my heart to see how ordinary decent men and women have stood up to say ‘THIS IS WRONG’.  It is a shame it has taken this shocking outrage to shock us out of our collective tupor. May we learn to ALWAYS condemn and speak against the evil thing that is rape. May GOD comfort and heal the victim mind and emotions.

xx

This a post I have chosen to re-post for The Girl Effect. Rape is an evil that many African societies try not to mention and sweep under the carpet. Rapists are rarely ever charged and the victim is usually blamed. 

The Girl Effect seeks to empower society by changing the lives of girls -  http://www.girleffect.org. 

Interested in blogging and being part of The Girl Effect? http://www.taramohr.com/girleffectposts/

My Body Fat calculation - Weight Loss Journey continued.

A friend asked me to check my BMI (Body mass index). I decided to go a step further and check my body fat too.

Now don't go crazy worrying over your BMI if you are healthy and muscular as a healthy muscular person with a low level of body fat can be classified as having a high BMI as healthy muscle weighs more than fat. But for the rest of us who know we are carrying a high level of fat, it might be wise to be CONCERNED! LOL

My current BMI is 27  (overweight) but it used to be 38.3 (Obese). My body fat percentage is 24.4% (Fitness/Acceptable). It used to be 41.3% (Obese).

BMI range for women is:

0 – 18.   Underweight

18 – 24.99.  Ideal

25 – 29.99.  Overweight 

30 & over.   Obese

Body fat percentage for women is:

Athletes: 16 – 20%

Fitness:  20 – 24%

Acceptable:  25 – 31%

Obese:  32%+

The inanimate body fat calculator made me laugh. When I entered my CURRENT measurements, the calculator tut-tutted like a favourite aunt and said ‘:
Your waist-height ratio is normal.
You may be overweight or have an unusual body mass.
Please eat 67grammes of protein daily. 

However when I entered my PREVIOUS measurements just to check how bad things were 22 months ago, the calculator went TOTALLY CRAZY.  I could almost see it sending red flashing danger lights my way. It spat out a list of instructions –

 You are overweight by 33.2 kilograms (73.0 pounds)
You need to exercise at least 30 minutes every day.
Minimum caloric requirements: 1721 Calories per day
Limit your food intake to 1462 calories per day to lose 1.9 pounds per month.
Your diet should contain at least 49 grams of protein per day.  

So what does all this mean? I need to lose about 8 - 10lbs  for my BMI to fall from OVERWEIGHT to IDEAL and about 4 or 5lbs for my body fat to be in the FITNESS level.

For my height, a healthy weight range is 110lbs - 136lbs (50kg - 61kg). I am currently 144lbs (65kg).  I want to lose about 24lbs (10kg - 11kg) as 120lbs (55kg) is the weight I have feel most comfortable at.

I still have a long ‘ways’ to go BUT I  have ‘come a long way baby’. Thank you LORD.

Here are links to a few calculators if you want to calculate your own measurements: http://www.scientificpsychic.com/fitness/diet.html. http://www.calculator.net/weight-loss-calculator.html

xx

I ate a MUFFIN - Day 5 & 6 of 30 day challenge - Weight loss cont.

Day 5.

Tough day. 

Messed up something. I was in the wrong and I really loathe doing the wrong thing. Arsenal lost 4-3 to Blackburn -*ouch*!!  I gained 2lb *double ouch*. I also ate the other half of the choc chip muffin in the fridge to feel better. Totally crazy because I don't even particularly like muffins. Ok, it is official - I am a comfort eater!!

Did I run? Huh? I wanted to back out so much I could taste it - my mood was totally low. But I did it. Was it easy? Heck no! The only good part of today's run was finishing! I don't run to music these days - I think, pray, live in my head.

So 5 days into this, do I see any benefits? Well, I have completed 5 days of this torture! Total mental benefit there. Isn't that good enough?? LOL.

The physical benefits: Calf muscles becoming more defined. Inner thighs looking better. Cellulite definitely improved. But hit by the dreaded lactic acid build-up though – legs were dying the last km.

Day 6.

Hardest ‘horriblest’ day! Please don’t correct my 'colourful wrong’ grammar. It totally describes my mood. *giggle*

Went to North London & then to Brunel to see my awesome niece settled into uni. Smart kid. Very proud of her. Got back to sista's & ate TONS of rice! Even went back for 2nd helping! Ok, so both portions combined probably added up to just a full plate. No excuse - I am a disgrace! LOL

Came home & my whole body was saying – “It's 10:45pm on Sunday night - c'mon, let's skip this run. You don’t have to be a slave to exercise. Is it so bad if you miss a day?”

My body was speaking total sense - and I nodded in agreement.

But at 11.20pm, I found myself pulling on the running gear & stepping out. Anyone tell you there is no GOD, just shoot em! Only HE could have dragged my lazy b*tt out of the house tonight.  

I tell you, it hurt from the 1st stride! Every stride was painful - even my chest began hurting again. I could feel every grain of rice I had gleefully consumed earlier! I was tempted to change route - cut it in half but somehow did not. This wasn’t a run – it was a run/walk/crawl/drag self to the finish line. 

Never was a gal so glad to see her front door! 

xx

Eating badly. Days 3 & 4 of 30 day challenge. Weight loss cont

Day 3

I sooooo did not want to run today.

Went to Starbucks and stuffed my face - however I did get lots of writing done soooooo now I can be a fat happy writer!! Yahhhyyyy!!!!! *sarcasm*.

I beat the inner voice that wanted to take another short route and went the a slightly longer route than day 1. 3km - 3.5km. Still wondering how I got through it!!!! At least I no longer feel like a heart attack is imminent! LOL.

At one point, I was wondering why the ‘actual’ running felt easier and then it clicked – I am no longer dragging an extra 65lbs (29kg) along with me. My goodness, I have dropped over a full suitcase in weight. I am trying to imagine running dragging a full suitcase along! *shudder*

This visual pic helps me imagine the weight I still want to lose. 24lbs (11kg). I have dragged hand-luggage of 11 -12kg behind me and I know how much of a drag it is and the relief I feel getting unto the plane and dumping that bag in the overhead compartment. Can I blame my body for wanting to dump the ‘hand luggage’ it really doesn’t want?

Day 4

2 bagels, 2 poached eggs, a slice of ham and a tomato for brunch - cup of milky coffee. Bad Bucky!!! Only good thing is it has left me too stuffed to eat anything else today!

Went appliance window shopping with the guys. Confession time – I enjoy hanging with my son/and my siblings. Ah well. We've decided on the colours for the kitchen. Glossy red units, stainless steel worktops. Shiny black American fridge-freezer. And as for folks who don't like my colour combo? Ah well - that's why it is MY kitchen, innit!!! LOL

Stopped by DFS to look at sofas. The open-plan kitchen will be something like what Yanks call a ‘great room’ or what we Brits call the 'kitchen as the heart of the home'. Kitchen, dining table and sofa area with tv. What this means in reality is my son will take over this reception area when he’s home from Uni with his games. Ah well, that way the living room upstairs gets to be the grown-up space! Everyone is happy. LOL

Got home after glorious day of window-shopping with NO money spent & my mind had conveniently totally forgotten running was on the cards. Oh GOD. Why did I agree when YOU suggested this challenge?

Ok, is the running getting any easier? Yes and no. I can breathe afterwards which is a bonus! My legs are shaky which isn't great. Still run, stop, walk, run, walk. But walking less and running more. Did the 3 - 3.5km route again. 

And a lil voice says - "Can we try for 4km tomorrow??" ARE YOU MAD??? Ok, ok, I'll aim for that  later. Let me first try to build up running without walking first.

xx

Teen terrors! Day 2 of 30 day challenge. Weight loss cont

Day 2

Ran a shorter route - 2 kilometers instead of the 2.5 yesterday. It felt hard. Then I realised I was running on the main road and on tar instead of block paving. It feels a lot harder on the feet let me tell you. I felt like giving up soooooo many times. Today I decided to set a new challenge for myself.  Run every day for 30 days. It will be interesting to see if I get through it!

Noticed 2 black teenage boys no more than 16 or 17 were harassing female joggers by making comments as they ran past. All my fellow Brits were going red and crossing the road to get away from these 2 teenage terrors. The two young twerps were right across the road at the Zebra crossing and my route would take me over the aforesaid Zebra crossing to run right past them. They were already whistling at me on the other side of the road. At first I wasn’t going to cross there but then again, I have not raised a 21 yr old son by backing down from tough challenges. Rubbish!

As I came up to them, I gave them my best African mother patented glare. It said “I don’t care if you call yourself Dushawn or Derek or Deduval – I can recognise a Nigerian kid. Your real name is Dele and I will first give you a tongue-lashing in front of your West Indian friend and then drag you by that foolish ear back to your mother’s house! There you’ll find that old truth – all Nigerians are related! She and I will discover I am her 5^th cousin 10 times removed and I am actually your AUNTY! FOOLISH BOY!”. 

The glare worked, both boys ducked their heads and politely moved out of the path. When I turned back to look at them, I noticed they had left their harassment spot and were crossing over to the other side of the road.

My entertainment for the day over, I crawled into the house at the end of the run and collapsed in a heap at my front door! LOL

xx

Death by Bra! Day 1 of 30 day running challenge. Weight Loss continued

Day 1

First run in over 8 months. I was going for a walk when brother asked if I was going for a run. Stuck in my mind and decided to run when I got out of the door. Best run I've ever had. Despite not exercising for weeks, I was able to run more, stop less, walk less than normal. However heart began constricting towards the end but hey, no exercise in 2 weeks & a sudden 2km run? Do you blame the poor thing?  But no kidding, I worried for a few minutes I was having my 1st heart-attack.

Ok, 2 hours later and heart STILL hurting! Now googling ‘heart pain when running’. Google is spitting out dire warnings of; running related asthma, sudden heart problems, running in the cold air but all come with warnings to go see doctor immediately. A bit drastic if you ask me. Why doesn’t anyone say it will pass?

I blame my brother! This must be part of his devious plan to bump me off! LOL

An hour later – heart pain getting more severe. Okay, should I be getting worried? Then a eureka moment! I really am a dozy cow  – I am wearing the wrong bra! Hadn’t changed into my exercise bra while running and while the bra I have on is a great look and fit, it is now constricting my chest. My oxygen deprived lungs have literarily been gasping for liberation! Underwear removed and an immediate miraculous recovery! Phew!

Ten mins later, I think - Damn, chest pain excuse removed – nothing to stop me running again tomorrow. *pout*

Been blogging again & getting lots of views to 'Weight loss continued' post. http://postnoir.blogspot.com/2011/09/70lbs-31kg-lighter-weight-loss-my.html


xx

A voice against torture! Weight-loss journey continued.

“Wheeze .. hnnn .. hnnnnn .. hnnnnn  .. she is trying to kill us again! Please .. pleeeeease .. pleeeeaase .. *moan* stop ..  stop ..  STOP!

“So who was the idiot who told her to take up running? Speak now so we can beat you to a pulp! Oh God, tell her to stop! Please! Shut up brain & don’t talk to us about healthy living! All this crazy 'keep-fit stuff & eat horrible nasty food' is your idea!”

“Don’t even try to blame it on her eyes o! Hmmm, but you have a point - it was her stupid eyes that began reading about high cholesterol, heart-attacks and diabetes, but if it wasn’t for your stupid braniac cells, will her yeye eyes have been reading that crap? I mean, take away the glasses from those uppity eyes, will they even be able to read anything??? Pchweew!”

"Abi heart, don’t you agree she is trying to kill us and we were happy and jolly as exercise virgins?"

"Ah heart, k’pele, you can’t talk now? You are still wheezing and trying to draw breath? Eeyah!  Awww, you are constricting and feel like you are dying? K’pele O! All this running & walking is clearly not good for the body – what is wrong with being a couch potato? This time 2 years ago, we would be seated in front of the telly, tucking into a plate of luscious basmati jollof rice cooked with oil and butter, topped with a delicious oil-laden fried stew full of luscious chucks of beef! Ahhhhhhh yummmmmmmmyyyyy – those were the good old days. *whimper*. Now she has us eating chicken with NO skin? And tomatoes and cucumbers!"

"Waistline, I swear, if you say one more word, I will slap your stupid face! Vanity is your second name jor! Who cares if you’ve shrunk? Did we not love you when you were 40inches?? Do you think we love you more now you are 28.5? Anyway, stop lying – you are 29inches O jare! In fact, now there is a whole less of you to love, so just sharrap! But for your vain posturing and complaining, she would still be feeding us well and none of us would be suffering this agony."

"Oh God, how much longer is she going to continue? Legs, c’mon, just stop! Go on strike – we will support you! Huh, what’s that you just said? You don’t mind? You don’t mind? Are you MAD? What’s that? You like knowing you’ve shrunk too? You, hips and waist feel really good that you could wear those jeans on Saturday that you could not even pull past your calves into 10 months ago??? WHO GIVES A TOSS! Jeans ko, genetics­­­ ni!"

"Brain, walai, I will konk your big head! So I mention genetics and you begin to lecture me?  So what if her mum now has diabetes? Mummy didn't get it until she was in her 60’s and she was never fat! Eh hen, now you think you are smart and are quoting statistics at me. Do I look stupid? So what if type 2 diabetes can have a genetic link? What if it can be triggered early by obesity and no exercise and you can delay it or stop it by keeping your weight normal and exercising regularly. Thank you for the lecture o, Ms brainy smart alec!"

"What – you are still going on? Now you are ranting about hypertension, high blood pressure & heart atacks being linked to obesity and no exercise? Yada yada yada, I am not listening!"

"She is giving us a heart-attack with all this! It is this crazy running that will kill us o! Stomach, or don’t you agree? Huh, speak up, I can’t hear you? Oh, oh, I see! Your voice has ‘shrunk’ ever since she stopped feeding you all that yummy stuff? You can now only whisper weakly? But you don’t mind? WHAT? You are pleased she’s stopped cramming you full of food you couldn’t digest, which gave you heartburn? YOU ARE A TRAITOR! I hope she starves you and you shrink and .. and .. IDIOT!"

"Am I the only one left who cares that she is killing us? Am I the only one to stand up for our rights to eat a high fat, high carb diet with none of those nasty vegetables? Am I the only one to say NO to exercise?"

"Ah, yes, there is a GOD! Thank you Jesus, she has finally stopped running. Hah, I can breathe again." *sigh of relief* 

"NO NO NO, she will not be doing this again tomorrow? I WILL DIE! She will kill me off totally. If she kills me 'Ms negativity-you-will-fail-so-dont-even-try-voice-of-reason', who will there be left to whinge & complain and tell her she can’t do it and she’s a failure and she’s fat and ugly? I will NOT be silenced! I have a function here! I deserve to be heard!"

"Noooooooo, the endorphins are kicking in! Exercise related dopamine is flooding her brain. She is happy. Look, she is drinking water instead of that high-sugar energy drink I tried to nudge her towards. I am done! How can I make her listen to me when she refuses to hear my 'truth'."

When that 'voice against torture' begins whinging in your head, get off the couch, walk, run, do some push-ups, dance to a music video, run up and down the stairs, ride a bike, join a gym, play with your kids, 'wrestle' with your spouse. Get moving - JUST DO IT!

xx  

70lbs (31kg) lighter: Weight Loss – my journey continued

Ok, ok, I have actually lost ‘only’ 65lbs (29.5kg) but the other 5lbs (2.2kg) are coming off verrrryyyyy soon! LOL. Once that's done, I'll have 24lbs (11kg) to go to reach my target weight.

At the beginning of this year, I wrote a piece about my weight - my most personal ‘postcard’ to date. I am very private about the things that go deep, so it was difficult to lay myself so bare. To my amazement, that write-up touched a chord with many others. The post, ‘Weight loss – my journey’ has got the most hits of all my blog posts. Here's a link to that first post: http://postnoir.blogspot.com/2011/01/weight-loss-my-journey.html

So how is the journey going??? Ahhhhhhhhh! It is tough! It's been a mixture of road-blocks, diversions, traffic-jams, as well as smooth free roads and bursts of swift motorway speeds.

After losing 55lbs (25kg) over 18 months, my weigh-loss slowed down. Between Feb – Apr this year, I lost a few lbs and gained a few lbs. I have Olympic gold medals in both procrastination & gym-hating *giggle*, so obviously did NOT go anywhere near the gym or do ANY exercise. However, I did retain a vestige of sanity and pretty much kept to my eating plan;  a few minor slips-ups, but nothing scale-busting. Then in May, I began working on a work renovation project with a mega-tight dead-line. My life became work, late nights, fast food AND very very soon, the weight and inches came a'calling again. Before I knew it, the scales had crept up steadily until I was 12’ 2 (a gain of 16 lbs), my recently whittled 29in waist was a bulging 32 - 33in and my chin was wobbling dangerously. I was so shocked, the fog clouding my eyes cleared! 

It had taken long months of suffering & agony, panting in the gym, taking up the heart-stopping torture called running, being deprived of rice AND sweet luscious hard-dough bread, and now I was watching myself sliding back dangerously to being an unhappy fat blob? NO WAY!

I was still fitting into most of my new clothes (barely!) but weight was once again embracing my frame ‘with fat loving hands(les)’. One thing helped – the thought of my dad’s coronation in Nigeria. That was scheduled for July and I was DETERMINED not to be fat in those photographs. At my brother’s wedding 2 years earlier, I had been at my very heaviest. I absolutely HATE the way I look in those pics and swore NEVER again.

The fast food stopped. Normal eating resumed. I did not lose any weight before my trip but at least the lbs stopped piling back on.

Got back from the Coronation and holiday and I hadn’t put on a lb or lost a lb. I was chuffed as holidays are deadly for weight-loss. Gave myself a week to settle back into London and then adopted a drastic programme; shocked my body into a ‘we mean business’ regime. My diet consisted of chicken and vegetables, strawberries and cherries, and a handful of brazil nuts. Snacked on tomatoes and cucumbers when I was peckish. Drank nothing but water with a touch of lemon or lime in it. Went back to walking and walked at least 2 or 3 miles every day. And turned to GOD and asked for help. In three weeks, I was back down to 11 stone. It’s been a further 4 weeks and I have lost another 10lbs but more importantly, the inches have fallen off. Those new clothes that were fine in January but tight in June are now loose in September. Yahhhyyyyyy!!!.   

I’ve set myself short-term and long-term goals. I want to lose another 14lbs (1 stone) by the end of November so I am 130lbs by my birthday in Dec. I want to go back to the gym. I want to begin running again. I want to take up bike riding.

Long-term goals: Run a 5 mile race next year. Sign up for the 2012 Cycletta 40 mile bike ride http://www.cycletta.co.uk/. Take roller-blade lessons – hey, I might fall numerous times but I just want to do it! Get down to my goal weight of 120lbs. Exercise regularly 3 – 5 times a week.

I have learnt that going to the gym every day doesn’t work for me. However, I enjoy walking so want to regularly walk 4km 3-5 times weekly. I hope I enjoy cycling so I can cycle regularly. It’s a healthy life-style I want, not just weight-loss. I still LOVE rice, pasta & hard-dough bread but portion control and the wonderful bulk-filling low calorie filler that’s called salad, nestled alongside my rice, helps. I also now totally adore tomatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, cherries and plums. A handful (6 or 7) brazil nuts will cure any craving I have for something to chew upon. 

Above all, I am learning NOT to beat myself up. If weeks go by and the scale doesn’t register a loss, I let myself know it isn’t the end of the world. If I get lazy and don’t walk or exercise for weeks, I try to start again. If I put on a few lbs, I grit my teeth and limit the damage by stopping whatever it is I am doing wrong.  I am a comfort eater who wants to turn to food on a bad day, so sometimes instead of hitting the kitchen fridge, I hit my wardrobe, slip on those jeans I couldn’t wear last year and grin. It’s calorie-free comfort! LOL.

Making GOD a part of the journey has been my greatest help.

Today I am 10st 4lbs, (144lbs), 65kg. I often scowl at the scales totally dissatisfied, but still remember the same scales reading 206lbs/210lbs (96kg) about 20 months ago. It teaches me to be thankful.

My goal weight remains 120lbs.

xx

Imagine

I have been feeling very sorry for myself today. I am in the middle of renovating my house, so I have no kitchen, no way of cooking and only one usable bathroom in the house. The dust & mess has gotten to even to me - and that takes a lot as I am not the tidiest person in the world (massive understatement! LOL). 

While flicking through Facebook, I came across a video link on a friend’s page and was so struck by the chap in the clip, Emmanuel Kelly, a contest on Australia's X-factor, that I googled him.

Very briefly – Emmanuel was damaged by chemical warfare in Iraq 17 years ago. He and his brother who’s also crippled, were found in a cardboard shoebox in the park, rescued by nuns and from that Orphanage were adopted by an Australian woman. He is grateful for his life and loves to sing. In 2010 Emmanuel was turned down by both Australia’s Got Talent and Australian X-Factor. Instead of shrivelling away and wallowing in self-pity, he auditioned for X-factor AGAIN in 2011.

I am grateful GOD shook me out of the destructive tangled jungle of my self-pitying bout and reminded me of love, hope, beauty and faith. A woman’s love for two crippled orphan boys, a new family that nurtured them, the plucky optimistic spirit in the heart of the grown up boys, the beauty of Emmanuel’s God-given talent, the tenacious faith in his ability that has stopped him from giving up.

After his performance on X-Factor, the judges and audience gave him a standing ovation. I am sure there were not many dry eyes in the audience. Mine were totally wet.

Fly Emmanuel. Soar High. You are not letting your physical disability define who you are – May your Creator, the Almighty GOD continue to bless you.

But above all, above doing well, above a great education, a successful career, the love of the right partner, I pray you come to know JESUS CHRIST the Messiah.

Instead of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ (which Emmanuel sang), as I watched this great kid sing, I imagined how wonderful Heaven will be. Imagine Emmanuel, his brother, and every other crippled, maimed, sick, disfigured, orphaned or abandoned child who has suffered the taunts of others, whimpered through unimaginable physical pain, sobbed openly, but more often cried secret pain-filled tears, longed for loving parents  – imagine them running strong and free in a light-filled place. Imagine never getting tired, not defined by pain, not shackled by infirmity, no longer a prisoner in a body that refuses to do what you tell it. Imagine playing hide and seek with JESUS. Imagine a football tournament with Angels? Imagine throwing hoops and flying effortlessly through the air to get that sweet shot right in the basket?

How wonderful Heaven will be. No pain, no suffering, withered limbs made straight, every tear wiped away, every sickness healed, all emotional suffering forgotten, all physical pain gone.

The bible does not describe Heaven as a boring place where mega boring straight-laced humourless angels play lousy boring music and everyone falls asleep (including GOD) from the sheer terrorizing boredom of it all. Heaven is described as a vital exciting Kingdom, where the child plays with the Lion, flowers bloom without dying, mosquitoes play violins instead of being vicious blood-suckers (ok, that's my take), folks with a burning thirst for knowledge ply GOD, the Father of all wisdom with questions; where there is no hunger, no thirst, no war. A place where Man finally comes into the very fullness for which he was created – an unshakable total relationship with GOD. We will finally experience the total fullness of the ONLY love that can forever satisfy the hunger and unfulfilled space deep in the heart of every created person.

JESUS is the reality of the love of GOD towards man.

Here’s Emmanuel’s performance. Hope y’all like it.

xx

WHERE ARE THE PARENTS ??

London’s burning! The youth are looting and rioting. Shop-owners are fleeing. The police are out on the streets desperately trying to keep order as chaos rages around them. Politicians are wringing their hands ineffectually and making namby-pamby statements. Youth leaders & so-called self-appointed community leaders are blaming the government and cuts and blah-di-blah yabba dabba doooo rubbish .. but there’s one group missing in action – yup, the PARENTS of the criminal yobs roaming the street, looting, causing violent and terrorising others. These children are getting off on a sense of a rush of POWER!

So, where are their PARENTS??????

Now some of my readers will blame the government and say ‘oh, the government says we can’t smack our kids’ (that’s a lie actually – the UK has a LAW allowing reasonable chastisement of children as long as it doesn’t break skin or leave horrible bruises). People say, we can’t tell our children off .. social services will take them away .. etc etc . BUNKUM! NO Government has said don’t tell your children off, has said don’t teach them good manners, don’t tell them off when they are rude to others, don’t stop them bullying younger kids, don’t make them do their homework, don’t be cheeky to your teachers, don’t say NO to them, don’t put them in the naughty corner, don’t send them off to their rooms, don’t withdraw privileges etc etc etc.

What I am trying to say is even IF you cannot smack or do NOT want to smack your kids, there are many many ways of disciplining children and raising them to become polite hardworking disciplined individuals! Good parents all down the ages have and will always find a way to raise their kids right.

Walk into any shopping centre and you find 2 yr old children throwing tantrums and telling their parents to shut-up! Why? The parents said they cannot have a sweet or chocolate they want. Parents call out to their 4yr old children who ignore them and continue their wrong-doing. Parents say with  pride ‘oh, my 3 year old is so stubborn. I can’t control him o’ RUBBISH! Your 3 yr old is a child – you are the parent! If you cannot control a 3 yr old, if a 2 yr old can tell daddy or mummy to shut-up and are then begged and bribed or apologised to by the parent, then kids are being raised who will fear and respect absolutely NO-ONE! Parents go to schools to FIGHT teachers who tell their children off! Then we turn around and blame the government! RUBBISH!

It is not for the government to raise our kids – it was not the government’s decision to have those kids. Parents are the only ones on the face of this earth who HAVE a MORAL responsibility to raise their own kids.  This is not the time for excuses about marriages breaking down or unmarried parents or single parents. All those are cop-out excuses. Being poor, a single parent, a divorced parent, a baby mama or baby daddy, a 2-parent family does NOT give you an excuse to run out on raising your kids. Bottom line, when you CHOOSE to bring a child into the world, you BECOME an adult. Let us all Man up, Woman up, put stupid differences aside and RAISE the kids that we have.

Think of how quickly these riots would be over, if these kids had parents they feared. One lady called LBC radio earlier. She had called her son and found out he was involved in a riot. She told him to get his backside back home otherwise she would come and drag him away from there. The young man promptly went home. Now, that is a parent who has put in the years of hard work, toil and graft that is called child-rearing! If your kid loves, respects and fears  you when they are 3, they will still love, respect AND fear you when they are 16yr old lanky teenagers who tower over you. And if they despise, disrespect and tell you to shut-up when they are 3, well don't be surprised if they are out of control at 16!

In conclusion I say, parents are called to be parents and NOT their children’s friends. A parent has to often make unpopular decisions and do things your kids will absolutely HATE you for at the time. Don’t worry, do the right job and these very same kids will thank you years later. In their 20’s and 30’s, they WILL become your friends.

Parenting is a grave responsibility – GOD has given us our children as a gift – let us raise them right!

Jewels of the night

Reflectin

'pon different times

times shared .. times past

times hoped for .. times gone by

in the dark still quiet that speaks night

thoughts hum

chatter loudly

weave a subtle dreamy spell ..

different thoughts

vie for pre-eminence

trip upon each other

in a mad dash to rush to the fore …

tis thoughts y’see

not words

tis thoughts .. in a meetin of two minds

that is the greatest thing shared

so in the cool still velvety night

all is quiet ..

no words intrude to rudely shatter

the peaceful

harmony of self ..

thoughts are laid out

examined like jewels

probed for answers

turned upside-down .. inside-out

and finally - there it is

all laid out

bare n free ..

truth is reached .. is touched .. is won

tis all in the thoughts you see

all there

waitin .. longin to be set free

thoughts of ..

you and me ..

Lagos - the city of a 1001 dreams (part 1)

I miss Lagos. The Lagos I miss no longer exists but the slightly faded damsel  who has replaced the ‘Eko’ of my dreams is still my home. England, the land of my birth is a great country, and I have lived here over half of my life, but Eko is the place that holds my heart.

How can I describe the love-affair I have going with this city? I see all her flaws, her ugliness, her shoddiness, the corruption destroying her from the inside out, the vast inequalities of wealth, with the mega-rich served by the dirt poor.

Eko, a city where ££million homes are a couple of miles from shanty huts with holes in the roofs; where the rich fly to the West for regular medical check-ups while the poor die in creaky hospitals with no drugs; middle-class families have a stable of 2 – 3 cars while their maids who work 18hr days, 6 days a week might never have a car all their lives.  A city that has lost its moral core where university girls sell themselves for a new Blackberry phone and phone credit while Churches sprout on every corner, where no-one EVER asks questions how anyone makes their money - Drug dealers dance side-by-side with hardworking bankers.

Eko, the city of a luxurious life-style - Europeans who have never lived in Africa find it difficult to understand when I say it’s not unusual for middle-class families to have a driver, a maid, a cook and maybe a gardener.

Lagos throbs and blares with a Zillion environment-destroying diesel generators and loud street-parties that can go on until the wee hours. Eko, the undisputed melting pot of Nigeria where members of every Nigerian tribe live together cheek by jowl united by Pidgin, our common lingua-franca. 

Lagosians are so openly ‘religious’ and so ‘tolerant’ that Mosques are built next to Churches, Muslims marry Christians, but this cloak of religious practice is mainly lip-service as most will flee to juju doctors when unexplained events happen.

This is my Lagos.

Despite her flaws, every time I step out of what surely must be the crappiest airport in the world, Muritala Mohammed Airport, love for this city grips my heart.

Eko is that sexy, seductive, beautiful, greedy, money-grubbing, demanding mistress you know only wants you for your money but you keep going back for more as you just can’t get her out of your head.

Eko, the city of my dreams.

xx

Mi Sa’bo!! (My Yoruba language journey)

Just before my 1st birthday, my folks left the UK to return to Nigeria.  However because of work/setting up a new business, my mum shuttled between the UK and Nigeria.  My parents decided my 6 yr old sister was old enough to be with my dad (ably assisted by female relatives), while was I placed in the loving care of my grandmother in Ibadan, Mama ‘badan.

Mama 'badan (now sadly deceased) was the greatest grandma in the world (well she loved me totally and unreservedly so how can that be bettered? LOL).  A fierce church-going woman, she didn’t speak English, so between 1 – 2.5yrs, I grew up speaking nothing but fluent ‘Ijinle’ Yoruba; I spoke a ‘conk’ Ibadan dialect with the accent to match.

At a point, it seems I decided that both speaking English and being in Lagos were anathema, and I fought & sulked like crazy when my parents took me to Lagos for a few days. I wanted my Mama ‘badan, my gayya (gala sausage rolls), and woe betide anyone who tried to get me to speak English. My favourite statement screamed at the top of my lungs was ‘Mi s’abo’ (I refuse to speak English). I am reliably informed that a tantrum ensued if I was even spoken to in English. Everyone spoke to the little tyrant (me) in Yoruba. And I always returned to my loving Mama ‘badan a few days later.

Why my parents did not just wallop the living daylights out of me is beyond my comprehension but at the time I was still the youngest, the baby, and they hardly ever saw me. Sooooooo I guess I was a trifle ‘spoiled’. Just a lil! LOL

One of my earliest memories is going exploring while my grandma searched frantically for me. My tiny fearless self was next door, busy scampering up the external staircase of of the uncompleted building to explore the flat roof of the upper floor.  Poor woman saw a situation that could easily have ended in broken limbs and a shattered skull. As she screamed in shock, I placed my hands on my hips, shook my head and said -“Ki lon se iya yi yi yi yi ke??’” “What on earth is wrong with this woman???”

Finally, my dad had enough of this state of affairs: He had two daughters – one a beautiful little well-behaved princess who spoke beautiful English, while also learning Yoruba, and then there was me - a little savage tyrant running wild! My 2.5 yr old self was packed off kicking and screaming to London. I did not return to Lagos until I was 6. By then, I could no longer speak or understand a word of Yoruba. (It took my UK relatives 2 months to get me speaking English in the UK but that’s a story for a different day).

Back in Nigeria, I was now teased endlessly whenever I tried to speak Yoruba in my ‘Oyinbo’ accent, so I stopped trying. I finally did learn to understand it, but in those days, it was unusual not to speak the language. Most kids around me could speak the language of their ancestors.

However things are very different now - a sizable minority of the middle and upper classes living in Nigeria today do not seem to mind if their kids cannot speak their traditional languages. I know it’s important to speak English well but a culture dies out or is open to being misrepresented by outsiders when a people no longer speak or understand their history.  How many Yorubas my age (from a middle class background) can recite an Oriki ‘traditional praise song’? How many Igbos of our generation still understand and can quote deep traditional proverbs? Do we understand why Chinua Achebe wrote, “proverbs are the palm-oil with which food is eaten”?

We are in danger of losing touch with our roots while insisting our kids learn French, Chinese, German, Spanish, Arabic or Japanese, et al. I understand we live in a global economy and I think it is great to have our kids speaking 8 other languages if they choose. All I say is let’s also give them a ‘grounding’ in the language of their ancestors.

As for me, it was not until a few months ago that a friend gave me the courage to begin trying out my spoken & written Yoruba - and I stopped caring about being mocked or teased. My spoken Yoruba is still pretty poor but hey, Lagos wasn’t built in a day. LOL.

xx

LICE!!!!!

Lice.  Those abominable blood sucking creepy-crawlies nestling happily & making their home in their host's hair. The really annoying thing is Lice are head-over-heels in love with clean hair and a virgin scalp, so they'll migrate from their existing hosts to a clean head of hair as soon as they can put in a change of address!

When I was 11 or 12, we had a house-girl who came with some extra 'hair-guests' (yup, her hair was extra-crunchy! LOL.) My younger brother and I promptly caught em off her! As a typical middle-class child, I had never had or been near lice before so I had no idea why I was suddenly scratching my head vigorously. But after catching hold of a couple of strange lil blood-engorged beings on my scalp, I told my mom. BIG MISTAKE!!

4 hours of unimaginable torture soon followed.

A mixture of moth balls/camphor was added to palm oil. I watched with wondrous eyes and thought ok, the cure didn't seem to be too bad - this red-orange mixture was then spread liberally over my scalp & hair. OMG! Words cannot adequately describe the pain - I was convinced my scalp had caught fire! Till today my body still jerks at the memory. Death would have been a relief from the torment!

So a few weeks later, when I found my scalp itching again, I decided to spare my mom the pesky details of 'The return of the Mack Lice' -  NOTHING was going to make me undergo that scalp-burning experience again! Being very resourceful & independent, I spent the next week wondering how to resolve the itchy-scalp issue myself - liberal applications of undiluted shampoo were no good, but then one night as I carried out the familiar-to-every-Nigerian-child-ritual-of-spraying-the-bedrooms-at night-with-insecticide to kill off mosquitoes, a light-bulb went off  (& not because there was a power-failure). FLIT! (The brand name of the insecticide in my hand). Very logically, I reasoned that if Flit killed mosquitoes, then it should kill lice too innit??? Simplez!

It was the summer holidays so I put my extermination plan into action. I convinced my mom I wanted to keep my hair in an afro for the holidays (the usual cornrows would not have helped the death-and-eviction-of-lice-by-chemical-spray plans) and as soon as she & my dad left for work, I would whip out the Flit and douse my head liberally. This cure was carried out 2 times a day. I must say, it was very sooooooothing & cool on my scalp. ;D

Of course my poor parents were blissfully unaware of their daughter's new habit of pumping dangerous chemicals directly unto her scalp.

Despite the deadly fumes I must clearly have been imbibing, my DIY-please-dont-ever-try-this-at-home-yourself cure was a sure-fire winner. Every night after the last top-up spray dosage, I combed my hair out and watched with satisfaction as dozens of dead lice came tumbling out. But I kept the routine going for weeks as I wanted to make sure any hidden hatching eggs (yuck!) were also terminated soon as they opened their beady lil blood-sucking parasitic eyes!

The cure worked but till today I still get a minor twinge of trepidation if my scalp itches even for a brief second.

P.S Hmmm, I wonder now how many chemicals trickled through to the brain cells below! LOL

Bucky, Bukky, Buky, Buki, Bukki.

Ok, it's a tiny trivial thing but I almost find it easy to know how close a person is to me or how much a person thinks about me by the way they spell my name.

My name is Bukonla which is abbreviated to 'Bucky'. That's how I spell it anyway - traditionally it's spelled Buki, Buky, Bukky even Bukki but very rarely ever Bucky. Many Nigerians secretly believe I have come up with my version of an 'Oyinbo' spelling and immediately leap into helping me out by 'correcting' what must obviously be my extremely poor spelling. *giggle* (Oh, please do NOT call me Bukonla - I will not respond. That is reserved for very close family and the guy in my life. Call it my thing but I find it extremely presumptuous when people try to call me Bukonla when I haven't introduced myself to them as that.)

Back to Bucky - blame my parents - they brought me up to spell my name that way. All my life, I have only ever spelled it that way. All my siblings spell my name that way. Growing up, teachers back home went nuts when this little child fresh from the UK, stubbornly refused to have the spelling corrected. A Naija primary school teacher once threatened to fail me in a paper if I did not spell my name Buki when it was submitted. Y'all seen the movie Roots with 'My name is Kunta Kente??' And how he was whipped for stubbornly refusing to take on the name 'massa' gave him? All I can say is Kunta would have been proud of me. The teacher got back the test paper with Bucky defiantly scrawled on it. I passed the test - and the poor woman gave up on her version of 'teach kids how to spell their own names spelling bee'. 


In secondary school, I had a teacher who almost had an apoplexy when I refused to respond to her calling me Bukonla. I got thrashed for it on many occasions but after days of my 'selective deafness' whenever she called me Bukonla, she reported me to the Principal (or Headteacher). To  her shock (and my relief),  Head asked her why she was trying to change my name from the way my parents called me. Ok, that teacher hated me for the rest of secondary school! LOL

Our names, our identities can be intertwined. I look at my name and I see me. When I see my name spelled any other way but Bucky, while I accept it, it's feels like the person isn't talking to or about me. When a person who is not special to me, calls me Bukonla, everything within me says 'No, it is not your right to do so.'

Facebook has made me realise my teacher's 'name spelling bee' is still alive and well. Some people will respond to a status update of mine and spell my name every other way but Bucky. It kinda makes me chuckle.

Over the years, I've discovered that for my closest friends and those most accepting of me, I usually almost always become 'Bucky'. And as for folks who maybe aren't so close??? Ahhhhhh well, guess they'll keep helping out my obviously weird spelling and nudging me in the 'right' direction by showing me a 1001 other versions of the spelling of my name! *sly grin*

xx

Shut-Up

I try to shut-up when I am annoyed or cross. Words spoken in the heat of the moment

are often hurtful, painful and damaging. AND CANNOT BE TAKEN BACK.  Saying sorry does not take away the sting or hurt unleashed by a few minutes rage. 

Avoid emails, texts, letters, words, fired off in the grip of a red haze. If words must be said, let those words be said calmly and lovingly after a period of reflection once the anger has passed.

The bible says ‘Let your words be seasoned with salt’. Now every African who loves their spices knows that food aint sweet if there is no salt in it! LOL. However, no-one seeks to spice up their delicious meat and tomato stew with lashings of vinegar. So also, let your words be seasoned with sweetness at all times and to everyone you speak to. This doesn’t preclude speaking the truth in love - it just means don’t spew out bitterness in hatred, and then call it truth. Or love.

A beautiful friendship, a loving union, a parent-child relationship built up over years can be torn apart and have the roof of trust and warmth ripped off  by repeated and constant bouts of uncontrolled words, a nasty temper, a desire to hurt and get one’s own back, a lashing out in frustration. Repeated continual bouts of rage and anger can shake the foundations of a wonderful relationship. Bitterness can eat away like acid and angry words can bore away like wood-worm until a house caves in on itself.

Be liberal with praise and stingy with rebuke.  Be quick to complement and slow to criticize. Find the good in everyone and verbally celebrate them . When you clearly negative traits, be gentle with the other person's  weaknesses and take them in prayer before God.  Remember the person you speak to might not remember a compliment you give but will recall your hasty criticism years later. Cover your loved one's shame and do not expose their weaknesses to the watching world. Be understanding when another has got it wrong and build-up the self-esteem of the damaged.

So how do we react if one is the ‘ragee’ or’ rager’?

If you are the one who has lashed out (and continues doing so repeatedly, stop thinking and believing your fits of anger and tantrums will cause the other person to change. Turn to God and repent; uncontrolled anger is sinful and damaging. Apologise to those you have hurt – and please say none of that - ‘If my words hurt you, then I am sorry’. C’mon! Man (or Woman) up and take responsibility for your actions. “I hurt you – I am sorry. I have trouble holding unto my temper. It is my fault. I should never have spoken to you that way. I regret what I said/did and hope you’ll forgive me.” Take responsibility and do not offer lame-a** excuses.

If you are the one who has suffered the brunt of another’s anger –  be gracious when/if the other person apologises. Do not rehash the scene endlessly and keep harping on what they said. Offer forgiveness even before an apology if made – and still forgive even if no apology is ever made. Bitterness and hurt feelings only corrode the soul of the person feeling that bitterness.

So, best advice I can give myself or anyone is – when you are angry, hurt or upset, whether it is justified or not – SHUT-UP!