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!

Procrastination

Procrastination – AKA the art of pushing off until ‘a future nebulous tomorrow’ what the Lord is asking you to do today.

When God spoke to Abraham about giving up Ishmael, he got up and did it the very next morning; When God spoke to him about sacrificing Isaac, he arose and got started on the journey the very next morning. Faith in action is doing just what God says to do immediately. The book of Samuel says 'Obedience to God  is better than numerous offerings or sacrifice'

The book of Proverbs says the sluggard whinges - “There’s a Lion in the streets ...” – this is the lazy man/woman’s excuse for not doing what s/he is meant to do at the right time.

There comes a time in a relationship where a guy can lose a girl because he hesitates too much about making that final commitment – before then, he probably doesn’t realise (or takes for granted) that he has the girl’s entire heart and then, one day, (an unknown day that usually comes out of the blue for him), if he hasn’t spoken yet, if he hasn’t made himself vulnerable by laying down his heart, he’s lost her heart just like that – poof!  There comes a time when a woman can lose a man by continually saying no to a relationship either because she’s playing games or she’s too afraid to take the step. Or she’s holding out for the mythical perfect guy who will meet every criteria on her mental wish-list. 

Sometimes we spend so much time searching for perfection, we fail to see the awesome gift God has right in front of us.

Now I am not advocating a rushing into everything or leaping before you look, but after you’ve prayed and either heard from God/or have peace in your heart, don’t let that lazy demon of indecision rob you of the blessings God has for you.  And if God’s already said in His word, then why keep asking Him if it’s the right thing?

Sometimes we put off things out of the fear of failing, the fear of stepping into the unknown, the fear of rejection or just plain old laziness. Procrastination is NEVER faith in action. . It’s soooooo easy to have great ideas/intentions/plans but we usually fall short once it comes to actually implementing them and just getting started.

Now I speak to myself here – it’s taken me 4 days to write this piece despite being prodded to do so a few days ago. I haven’t yet been back to the gym despite knowing I should have begun a couple of weeks ago.

There’s the book I’ve written (finished it years ago); now all that’s left is the final re-write and to take the step of sending it off to publishers – but I find myself putting it off for 2 reasons – the laziness of committing to the 15^th (and hopefully final) rewrite and the fear of having my work rejected.  These two things have become such huge mountains that I’ve forgotten that simply getting it written and finished was one huge step and it was only done by the total grace of God.

And so what if I get rejected by a dozen publishers? Try/try/and try again. Pray and jump through every door the Lord opens before me.

So I say to mee, “Whatever that the Lord lays on your heart to do, just get started and trust God that He who began the work in you is faithful to complete it.” xx

Blue and Yellow Labyrinth (aka IKEA)

Went to IKEA today. After 5 hours trapped in that mammoth blue and yellow labyrinth, trying to get past the hordes worshipping at the altar of consumerism, tramping long endless aisles stacked to the sky with dreary brown boxes, my feet hurt. My neck hurts. My back hurts. I hurt!. 

Now my living room and I are drowning under the weight of blue IKEA bags bursting with STUFF, and cardboard boxes filled with other items that someone (mee because handy son is in Uni) will have to put together. 

Why does IKEA have an obsession with DIY? I love the shop and furniture from there, but building it is a huge pain. Sooooooooo, are there any flatpack IKEA 'handy' men out there? I can pay in coffee & cake : )

2 groaning hours later : - 

Hammer, screwdrivers, drill, nails - all the tools of the trade spread forth before me. Tis clearly obvious the living room is under 'refurnishing reconstruction'. (Or should that be deconstruction???) How is it going? BADLY! With numerous unfinished projects spread around, spilling and creeping into insidious corners, it looks like this task will never ever get finished .. *sigh*

Well, the only silver lining in my IKEA cloud, is that the many hours hiking around the store should make up for missing out on my 3-5 mile daily walk – shouldn't they? *giggle

Chocolate

Time to confess – I have never understood what the fuss about chocolate is all about. Chocs are okay but nothing special (give me a slice of Jamo bread anyday!)  

For moi, decent chocs have to be solid milk chocolate with only hard nuts allowed as a filling, or alternatively a white chocolate bar. You can keep your soft centres, your caramel, your fruit, your nougats and all the other assorted yucky fillings with which chocolate makers ruin the taste of a nice solid chocolate.

But my taste in guys is very different – I like em to have soft centres. A guy should be solid through and through but with a Christ-driven centre; tough but gentle, strong but caring, determined but not stubborn, a leader but not a tyrant, kind but not a weakling, self-assured but not arrogant, ambitious but not prepared to stomp over everyone to get to where he wants, hardworking but not a workaholic; and above all a man strong enough not to be threatened because a woman is intelligent or/and feisty. 

So no - ‘hard nuts’ looking for a woman to crack, or fruit loops with unstable mood swings, or guys given to physically violent temper outbursts or those who regularly employ the use of harsh, searing, flesh-stripping, soul-destroying words.

I do have an equal ops thing – black, white, yellow, green, red, purple, tall, short, well built, skinny, long hair, bald, locs, it really is what’s inside that’s attractive. A strong character, a great sense of humour, intelligence, a fierce love for God, solid faith, a gentle heart – if a guy has that, who cares whether he is 5’5 or 6’5? 

;o)

Naked (1)

Naked = Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. Real.

Just watched a programme ‘How to look good naked’. The presenter takes an average woman and in a few weeks transforms the woman’s image without surgery or expensive treatments. More importantly, he transforms her wrong image of herself. A decent haircut, clothing that accentuates the figure, but more importantly accepting and loving your body is what makes the difference.

Our naked selves can be the hardest thing for a lot of us to face. If you are young or just have a perfect body, then prancing naked around your room is a breeze; but once age, pregnancy, sag, toil, stretch-marks, weight etc, take their toll, then most women would rather be clothed than seen naked. Often, we don’t even want to look at ourselves naked in a full-length mirror.

Oprah said something once that got my attention – if you can’t bear to look at yourself naked, then how on earth would you be comfortable with having anyone else look at you? I go further and say, if you cannot look at the real you, then how can you ever learn to accept yourself and love the beautiful you that God created and Jesus died for?

So for the last 14 months or so, I have made a point of looking at myself unclothed in a full-length mirror every day. At my very heaviest, that was a very tough call! However, the more I have done so, the more accepting I have become of me, flaws, lumps, bumps and all. Greater acceptance of myself has also meant the more I want to improve me to become the very best I can be. This process of self-examination in the mirror has not made me hate myself or run screaming – rather, it’s actually made me love myself more and also help push me further along my weight-loss journey.

To my Christian married friends, I go a step further. Husband and wife need to get comfortable being bare with each other. How close can a relationship be if a wife insists on the lights turned out and will not have her husband look at her in all her true beauty? How loved does a wife feel if her husband cannot stand to look at her and see that his wife is beautiful and amazing? Those stretch-marks are silvery lines of love where her skin expanded to carry and nourish your beautiful children. If a couple can bare their  bodies before each other, it becomes so much easier to bare their souls and become more entwined emotionally.

Naked is being true to yourself, however, it can also be mega-scary. But jump in with both feet, wipe the dust off that full length mirror and embrace the real unadorned beautiful you.

(Part 2 of this write-up ‘Naked before God’)

Nkosi Sikeleli Africa (God Bless Africa)

I've been thinking about Africa today - the whole continent and not just the part I come from. There is so much that is beautiful about the continent and I'll forever be grateful that I lived part of my life in one of her countries. I miss the sunshine, the people, the sense of family, of deep roots, the optimism and resilience deep in the hearts of her people. However there is also so much that is wrong; corrupt governments that do not care about their people, elected & unelected officials looting and pillaging so millions are plunged into poverty and despair. 


I decided to go hunt up on You tube the song that was the anthem of the South African 'black struggle' back in the days of Apartheid. Once I saw the translation of the words of 'Nkosi Sikeleli Africa', I knew this is the prayer in my heart for my amazing continent.  


Nkosi Sikeleli Africa (God Bless Africa) 
Lord, bless Africa;

May her horn rise high up;
Hear Thou our prayers And bless us.

Chorus

Descend, O Spirit,
Descend, O Holy Spirit.

Bless our chiefs
May they remember their Creator.
Fear Him and revere Him,
That He may bless them.

Bless the public men,
Bless also the youth
That they may carry the land with patience
and that Thou mayst bless them.

Bless the wives
And also all young women;
Lift up all the young girls
And bless them.

Bless the ministers
of all the churches of this land;
Endue them with Thy Spirit 
And bless them. 

Bless agriculture and stock raising
Banish all famine and diseases;
Fill the land with good health
And bless it.

Bless our efforts
of union and self-uplift,
Of education and mutual understanding
And bless them.

Lord, bless Africa
Blot out all its wickedness
And its transgressions and sins,
And bless it. 

Insomnia

Anyone who knows me well knows I have this 'lil' insomnia 'thing' going. Explains why I am still awake at 05:20am - LOL. I wrote this a few months ago & have it as an FB note. As it still sums up exactly how I feel right now, I thought I should get it  'washed, dried & ironed' again, ready for a fresh outing. xx

Insomnia isn’t anything 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 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 –

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 & accepts the sleeplessness

Insomnia is talent

Is hours of writing without stopping

Is ideas flooding

Is 'genius' unfolding

Insomnia is ...

© 2010 Noir

Weight Loss - My journey

I have struggled with my weight since I turned ten. For a skinny child who could not put on a pound no matter how much or little she ate and was regularly dosed with ‘Complan’ & ‘Weight-on’ by my worried momma, puberty hit hard. Bumps, lumps and dumps sprouted, and by the time I was 13, I had ballooned to the great weight of 110 lbs (50kg). It was no consolation that I stayed 110 lbs for the next 7yrs (that my weight-height ratio and BMI were fine) –what mattered was that I was nicely padded. Greatest bane of my life was that my waist was 26inches instead of the 23inch waist most of my friends had.

I look back upon the teenager I was and roll about on the floor laughing! Oh to be 110 lbs again!

Being married & pregnant when I was 20 ended 110 lbs. Forced into bed-rest while 'enciente', I mega-blew up and one healthy great-looking son later, was almost 50 lbs (22.7kg) heavier! Over the next 8 yrs, I proceeded to lose a few pounds and promptly put em and more back on. Divorce and single parenthood probably didn’t help much. Finally I was one round ball of lard & the scales (and fat me) had hit 189 lbs (86kg).

This was until the period I’ll call ‘1st weight loss journey’. Over 6 months of an ad-hoc diet and going to the gym sporadically, the weight fell off. I was down to 144 lbs (65kg) and a size 12. My waist which started out a tape-busting measurement of 38inches finally shrank to 30/31inches. I could live with that. Very happily!

This brilliant state of affairs lasted quite a few years. Then I fell in love, had my heart broken, buried myself in work, and because of my insane working hours, began eating at crazy times & snacking while working. 2yrs of that madness, aided by loads of platefuls of rice, numerous thick slices of hard-dough bread wilting under lashings of butter, forkfuls of pasta smothered in sauce & regular tuck-ins of burgers and fries, and stuffed-crust meat feast pizzas, and the weight fell upon me, embracing my frame with 'loving' glee!

Soon, I was up to 150lbs. I shrugged - c'mon, who can't lose 10 lbs? Slowly the needle on the scale hit 160lbs, then 165lbs, at which point I tossed out those ‘nasty’ scales. So what if my waist was now 34/35 inches and I was a UK size 14, then Size 16? I could lose it all anytime I set my mind to do so. (Great joke hmmmmm!).

I did have very short windows where I tried diets for a few weeks and lost a stone or so but those brief periods of sanity passed all too quickly. Then my job became extra-stressful, I stopped walking anywhere and drove everywhere and as the inches and lbs piled on, I became despondent and comfort ate until the new set of scales hit 189lbs and I was a size 18. I promptly thrashed the new ‘lying’ scales and resolved the problem by buying baggier clothes. *Simples!*

12 months later, 3 chins wobblier, 2 further dress sizes up, I gingerly unwrapped a new set of scales and stepped upon em. After rubbing my eyes to clear my fading eyesight, fishing out my clearly blurred contact lenses to wear my glasses, cleaning afore-said obviously foggy glasses, hopping on the scales a dozen times, gingerly standing on one foot, stripping off all my clothing. I was finally forced to admit/accept/digest the horrible truth. I had shot up to an earth-thundering, mammoth-resembling, stupendous 209 lbs (95kg). I weighed almost as much as TWO of 20yr old me!

Ok, after freaking out and having heart-thumping panic attacks, I finally did the smartest, most sensible thing I’ve ever done re my weight. I took it to God and began praying – hard!

14 months ago, God shook my shoulder one morning and said, “It’s time we get started on losing this weight.”

And thus my new weight-loss journey began. Over the last 14 months, I have lost 55lbs, began going to the gym again after a complete 10yr break, started loving and eating loads of fruit and veg, replaced soda and fruit-juice with copious gallons of water and green tea, walked miles, taken up running (okay, okay, shuffling) and crafted a diet or eating-plan that appears to work for me.

But if that sounds very noble and industrious, I’ll confess that I have slipped loads - I have cheated, stopped exercising too many more times than I care to remember, and last Novermber and December totally threw my eating healthy plan out of the window.

Despite spending the last two months chomping away upon rice and bread (my greatest weaknesses), interspaced with puff-puff and Asaro, the Lord is gracious. I put on about 4lbs, 2 inches round my waist and stomach but was still 51lbs less than I was when I began this trek.

But finally, a few days ago, the Lord was able to break through to my carb-loving, exercise-procrastinating self and I picked up my weight-loss ball again. I’ve lost the 4lbs, whittled away 1 inch off the waist, began walking 5 miles again at least 5 times a week and I head back to the torture chamber (oops Gym) this week.

Today I am 154 lbs (70kg), UK size 12 with a 29.5inch waist. Soooooo, what’s my weight-loss goal? 120lbs, UK size 10 and a 26/27inch waist.

Weight-loss and maintenance is a marathon not a sprint (sadly). It is a life-long journey not a short holiday. I have 34lbs to get to my destination and a life-time to stay there. What helps me walk this road, is the knowledge that God cares about everything that concerns me and it’s a journey where I am carried on His shoulders.

The wistful 20yr old in me would like to see 110lbs again but hey, I’ll be dancing a jig the day I step on those scales and they say 120lbs.

Lady sings the Blues

Is it ok to have a self-pity-woe-is-me-day? 

My weight sucks. My love-life sucks. My Christian life sucks. My house is untidy and needs de-cluttering like yesterday. I need a new kitchen. A new bedroom that feels like a sanctuary. My job is stressful. My finances suck.

Please don’t tell me to feel better. Don’t say the Lord is in control. Don’t ask me to count my blessings and stop complaining.. Just for one minute, be a friend and say “Pele – i feel you. I’ve been there. Hold on, you’ll get through this. God is in control.” See the difference? One response feels glib and patronising and ‘what’s wrong with you ungrateful so and so’. The other response feels like a friend.

“Why are you cast down o my soul? Yet hope in the Lord, He is your strength and salvation.” “Godliness and contentment are great gain.”

Sometimes the Enemy of our souls, our mood, thoughts, circumstances, emotions, can take our eyes off the truth. God loves us and every single part of our lives is crafted into a perfect plan by the greatest master planner. When we get despondent, it’s easy to forget everything the Lord is doing in our lives, to stop seeing all our blessings and to get fixated on what we consider areas of failure.  

So in my blue funk, I had forgotten that I have lost 4lbs in the last week, that Jesus loves me even when I am at my most unlovable, my house just needs some re-organisation and elbow grease, my kitchen and bedroom can’t get done yet but God’s given me a nice warm comfortable house, I have a job I totally love (stresses and all) & I still get to pay my bills and mortgages every month...

And yeah my love-life still sucks!!! LOL

Writer’s Block

I have always loved writing and words. Words fascinate me. Their complexity and beauty, the power to shape ideas and thoughts, create a new vision, transport people into new worlds – words have always been an intimate intrinsic part of me. However, over the past few years, I have suffered a form of writer’s block, a lethargic indolence.  Caught up in my other passion (property development), writing cooled, my pen was downed, thoughts died before they were born, characters were assassinated at infancy.

But, but, a few months ago, the Lord gave me the germ of a new work. Lethargic lazy me got as far as buying a cool looking notebook, 10 brand new biros, I fleshed out the outline, and made numerous visits to Starbucks to let the words flow – hahahahahaha. 

There were numerous cups of White Caffe Mocha with whipped cream drunk, and  loads of cinnamon swirls, fruit bread slices & biscottis 'sacrificed' to sop up the coffee. I consumed 1000’s of calories, read many books, completed numerous crosswords, took up Sudoku, put loads of cash into Starbuck’s tills; but produced less than 500 words!

Then an old friend came to my aid. I had kept a personal blog many years ago which I had saved on a disk and mislaid – until I stumbled across a cache of old saved floppy disks. Anyway, my friend asked to read a couple of entries and came back with a word of encouragement. 

So if this blogs sucks, y’all know who to blame! LOL

New Year

It’s a new year, a new day – does that mean new hope and new beginnings?

I've never been one for making resolutions but I love the boundless hope and optimism with which we all greet a New Year. There is a glimpse of new beginnings, a new dawn, a fresh spring, the opportunity to wipe clean the slate of the previous year, forget old mistakes, walk away from the murk, pain and disappointment of the previous year.

My new year has kicked off with a new blog – yahhhhhyyyyyyy!!!!!