Shades Of Brown
SHADES OF BROWN
My Body…Your Problem
Me at almost 75kg.Image: Tunde Raphael. So recently, I put on a lot of weight; or better put, I have become quite fat! I know this because most of my clothes are so small now that I have to get a new wardrobe. When I say most, I mean my pants (trousers; get your mind out of the gutter), skirts and certain dresses. I have always bought bigger clothes because I don’t like clingy clothes and I am the type of girl who would wear something I like for years and years until it becomes threadbare and begs to be thrown away. When I am slim, and by slim I mean my lowest weight of 62kg, my clothes are like baggy dresses (which I am happy with) and when I am at my full weight of 70kg, they are a bit snug but not so tight that all my curves (real and imagined) are out there for all to see…well, until recently; I weigh 72kg now. My new weight is centered around my derriere (*blushing to my roots) and thighs. Though I am never one who is bothered (much) by my weight, I am ecstatic about my new body! Growing up, I used to be straight as a ruler. I have always wanted to be curvy, hoping that one day I would wake up with Toolz’s body. My best friend is this curvy mama and I dare say that is the only point on which I am jealous of her. Anyway, when I put on this weight, the first thing I noticed was that I had problems getting my pants (trousers again, focus!) over my derriere to my waist. After more than 25 years, God finally gave me the body I wanted! I am curvy baby! I am now a budding pear! *Dancing the Konga! For the past few weeks, I have been enjoying how my new curves fit into my clothes, though I need new stuff; emphasis on ‘need’! What I haven’t been enjoying are the stares! Though I am a confident woman, I am not comfortable with men staring at me. Okay, I will stop lying; I HATE MEN STARING AT ME! It gets me annoyed when men stare, especially when I can see the lascivious or leering looks in their eyes. I guess people will stare anyway so when I see anyone staring, I put on my mean mug which, 99% of the time, gets the man to look away. I may be all fire inside but with my mean mug, I become the evil ice queen…and I have realized that no one wants to mess with her! Buhahaha! Anyway, worse than the ‘starers’ are the people who constantly feel the need to tell me that I am fat. I get this EVERYDAY! Some people are subtle and would just go, ‘Ramat, you have put on weight. Your trip home must have been very good’ to which I would reply that I had gone back to my original weight. Others would see me from afar and shout, ‘OH MY GOD! RAMAT, YOU ARE SO FAT!’ In my head I go, ‘AND YOU ARE SO DUMB!’ but outwardly, I would smile and tell them, ‘Yes, I am. And I am happy with MY body.’ They have this reaction because they have only seen a slim me; again, I must say that I am big boned and can never be Dija slim. Since I came to Yola, my weight always hovered between 62 and 65kg. So the extra 10kg is freaking them out. The people I mentioned above are not the ones this article is for. There is a special class that walks up to me and says, ‘Ramat, you are too fat! You BETTER start doing some exercise and stop eating TOO MUCH food.’ When I hear something like that, my ratchet side begs me to take off my earrings and pull up my sleeves. I am no fighter but I have been tempted so many times that my mind needs anger management! I BETTER do exercise?! I MUST STOP EATING too much food?! I am like ‘Nigga, is you cra’y?! You done lost your mind?! Smoked some cheap weed?!’ I usually smile and tell them that their opinion about my body is of no importance to me. Somehow, that riles them up and they start huffing and puffing. Imagine the nerve! I got into it one day with a guy who was angry that I told him I love MY body the way it is. He went ham! ‘Ramat, this is not good oh. You are finer when you are slimmer. You BETTER go and lose that weight…and fast! In fact, I will come to your house so that we can start jogging! Ha ahn! You are too fat now!’ Before I proceed, I want to explain my relationship with this guy. He is a colleague whom I just say ‘Hello, Hi’ to. We are not friends, we don’t work in the same unit, he knows nothing about me and vice versa. So, to continue, I smiled and said, ‘Hmmm….first, I love MY body the way it is. Second, MY weight is in no way YOUR concern and finally, I may be finer when I am slim but you are wiser when you are quiet. Maybe you should shut up more.’ I smiled and batted my eyes. The guy was quiet for some seconds…and then he walked away. Only my close friends would have known that I was red hot mad! How dare he?! It reminded me of a time when a corps member also assigned to my place of primary assignment had a problem with my eyebrows. I always say that my eyebrows are perfect and I would never shave/shape them. This girl wanted me to shape them. I said no. She pressed. I said no again. She kept pressing for weeks. I remained adamant. One day, we were in a tricycle and she was seating directly opposite me. When I couldn’t stand the scrutiny anymore, I asked
Long Winded Writer
Woman writing with her computer.Image: Pexels.com After posting my last article – When A Perfectionist Fails – on my blog, I got great reviews and some not so good ones. It was, quite frankly, another day in my life as a writer. Few days after the post, one of my very good friends called me to share his views on the article. I was elated that he took time out to share good tips for future auditions and to critique my writing. Before we ended the call, he advised me to cut down on some of the details in my writing and jump to the point. If that had happened two years ago, I probably would have gone into a fit but I didn’t even get angry. The sky spirits really are working overtime on my anger management issues. Plus, he is a good friend and I know that he was looking out for me. I explained to him that I am a long winded writer and that was my style. He ended the call by urging me to stay true to my style. You see, I grew up reading big books. At 10, I used to ‘steal’ my mum’s Mills & Boons to read. I would finish them in a day so I could return them to the exact spot on her shelf where she left them so I wouldn’t get caught. I got caught one day and received some good ‘konks’ but that did not deter me. The world which flowed from books was something I wanted to explore. You can be sure that because I have an over-imaginative mind, books were the perfect get-away for me. I bought my first book at age 12. It was ‘When the Splendor Falls’ by Laurie McBain. It was 678 pages long with pages and pages of descriptive writing that some people might have called ‘unnecessary information’. Not me. I kept reading the book like a child chasing after candy. You cannot imagine the utter joy I felt when I found a link between something that happened almost at the beginning of the novel and something that happened close to the end. It gave me great pleasure to scroll back to the page and just cry as I made the connection! When I outgrew romance novels and moved to espionage and murder mysteries, I realized that those unnecessary details tended to be the biggest clues in solving crimes or the murder mystery. If you have read the James Hadley Chase, Agatha Christie, Dan Brown, John Grisham, Tom Clancy, James Patterson, Quintin Jardine or Mario Puzo books, you know that the devil is in the detail. I wanted to write like these authors. I wanted to translate African stories in clear and concise terms as these renowned authors wrote their stories. I may have been a kid, but I felt that I could project my stories to the world with my pen…and I meant that literally. Thank GOD technology latched on and made things far easier! Hallelujah! When I was in school, I never had problems when we were told to write essays; especially descriptive essays. My only problem was the limit placed on those essays. In my view, 250 words were just too small to convey any idea that I had! As we got older and the limits increased, I had no problems meeting (and going above) the stipulated limit; I cannot say the same about most of friends though. I am sure that you can imagine the subtopic I hated in English Language. Yes! It was SUMMARY! Still hate that thing jare! I write for people who have an eye for detail; people who want to smell the freshly baked croissants off the pages of the book, to feel, from the writing, the scorching sun as they travel the sun-kissed desert road on the way to Niger and the constriction in their hearts with each flip of the page as the victim tries to evade her huge attacker. Every writer has their style and that is great. My sister Enigbe writes poetry so great you have to read twice to understand what she is about; or at least, that is what I do when I read her poetry. I am so not a fan of written poetry! Too much to think about, just like chess. My other sister Sadiya writes poetry in a way that is completely different from how Enigbe writes but is no less deep and thought provoking. My poetry on the other hand just sucks! We are one blood, closer than peas in a pod, have nearly similar interests, but write completely differently. We used to have problems with our styles but we grew to the conclusion that we, after all, have different vantage points on any given issue and that translates to how we write our pieces. While I would like to describe all I can see in an empty room, Enigbe would most likely liken the room to a hollow tunnel that closes up slowly until claustrophobia sets in and Sadiya would probably talk about how the level of our emptiness determines how we react to the world and why it is necessary to never have a vacuum in our lives. One scenario, at least three ways it could be written! And talking vantage points, that movie is one of my all-time favorites because of the details that went into one murder. But hey, I digress. Back to writing. When one of my old friend writes for radio and TV, the pieces are so quirky, fun, and engaging that you wonder where the creativity comes from. I am not ashamed to say that he had the highest number of fans and pulled the largest number of listeners to the shows we used to host together. He inspired me more than I let on. Similarly, one person that really inspires me is another friend of mine. He is a weird writer and trust me, he is weird!
New Video: Classiq – Ban Son Reni
Classiq is one of my favorite Nigerian rappers and I really like his work! Y’all should check out his video and just feel the simple, chic and cool. ClassiQ – Bansonreni Lyric Video: http://youtu.be/14bf3qDhwnU
New Music: Yada!
My good Friend, Ephraim Okpanachi, is a great an awesome person! He is wonderful and inspires me a lot with his work ethics, maturity and charisma. He is one of the few people I truly respect and honor and it is my joy to bring to you his latest work. Read more about him below and see more pictures. Download his song at www.reverbnation.com/Yadablast. YADA: A.K.A EPHRAIM OMACHOKO OKPANACHI, was born in Makurdi Benue State Nigeria. He discovered his liking for music when under 10 and at 13 he amazed many, by joining a church choral group meant for adults. YADA led various youth singing groups as a teenager, but defined his Music at the University. He started the “YADAH JEHOVAH” meet in 2001, at the Kogi State University Anyigba, when he was Music Director of a Campus Fellowship. This birthed Yadah! His first recording YADAH JEHOVAH was performed live in concert in 2002 at the University and this marked his professional entry into music. Fans adopted his concert tag as his brand name, and led to the name YADA. YADAH is THE MUSIC, and YADA is the music maker. This brand has touched and is touching lives across Nigeria and beyond. Yada, had his first training in the University in Economics, and is also an OAP and news presenter per-excellence. YOU ARE WORTHY ‘You are worthy’, is one of the hits from Yada’s last audio album “YADA THE EXPRESSION” RELEASED in 2013; the other hit, being, UGBO NALO? (Where Do I go?). The single video is a fore-runner to the release of the ‘Yada The Expression’ video album due for release in 2016. A LITTLE ON YADA AND YADAH YADAH; is a Hebrew verb meaning “the extended hand”, it connotes or represents Worship with an extended or lifted hand, and involves bodily movement in worship and telling forth God’s greatness. YADA has several interpretations, but simply means TO KNOW. So am YADA, desiring to worship and doing YADAH to GOD.
When a Perfectionist Fails
Ramatu Ada Ochekliye Hi. I’m Ramat and I am a perfectionist; but you know that already, don’tcha? I’ve known this about myself since forever. Quite frankly, I am not ashamed of it. It has pushed me to go hard for what I want, improve myself, demand the best from myself (and others) and always put my mind in a position to learn more. That has made me a workaholic, social media junkie, adept reader and a terrible info-maniac. There is a downside to this though. You see, the perfectionist has a range of problems; from wondering if he/she is ever good enough, to a painful fear of failure that can be so crippling it prevents the person from realizing his/her full potential. The perfectionist is also very caustic, intolerant, unwilling to show weakness and overly demanding of perfection from others. I am all of these things…and more. Today, I want to do something that goes against the persona I project to people. I Am. Admitting. That. I. Fail. At. Things. Phewwwww! That was a relief! Or maybe it isn’t. Either way, a story might explain why I am making this confession. I’m just going to start before my other personality takes over. Sometime in July, 2015, I saw this advert about an audition for on-air-personalities with Ebony Life TV, Lagos, scheduled for the second week of august. I was stoked at the possibilities a move to that station would do for my career. I got excited; really excited! I told my friends and my sisters about the audition and I guess my excitement was infectious. Soon enough, we were discussing logistics because I had never been to Lagos State. Yeah you heard that right; I had never been to Lagos State! I knew I had two options; take a luxurious bus for a pretty long donkey trip or take a flight. Here is another thing though; I had also never been in a luxurious bus or on a plane! I imagined disgracing my grandmother with my show of nerves on a flight so I decided that I was going by road. In case you missed it, I decided to go by road from Yola in Adamawa State, North East Nigeria, to Lagos State, South West Nigeria; a journey that was pegged at almost 23 hours. That was when it occurred to me that I could break my trip; go to Abuja and spend the night, then head to Lagos the next day. My trip was fine until day two of my journey. It was Friday and I was finally on my first luxurious bus ride heading to the big ole Eko and I knew that I had to stay awake to catch all the sights of the States I had never been to. We got to the NASFAT area at about 7pm after having to deal with lots of traffic jam. That was when my problems started. There were too many people having a festival of sorts, or more appropriately, prayers at the NASFAT area. I could feel the claustrophobia closing in and I just wanted to leave that place. I kept imagining what would happen if an adventurous bomber decided to strike. The plagues of living in the North Eastern part of the country right? That thought had not finished forming when we heard these bangs on the body of the car. They were so loud they jolted most of us into sitting positions. I remembered all the stories I had heard about Lagos and imagined that a gang of robbers were about to pounce on us and kill us all. My heart was literally in my mouth. I cursed my alter ego that deceived me into taking a window seat. After some minutes, I looked down and saw that the rabble rousers were part of the worshipers. I breathed a quarter sigh of relief and started seriously praying to God to protect me. We were at that same spot around the NASFAT area for five hours! 5 frigging hours! My bum was on fire, my friends and sisters were sick with worry, and the claustrophobia had given me really horrible chest pains and a headache. A little after 12am, we broke even and continued on our way. That was when I realized that I had not even entered Lagos yet! Arrgghhh! When we got to the destination my friend asked me to alight at, it was 2am and pitch black. As soon as the bus stopped, some thugs – and I use that term knowing its full meaning – came up to the bus just as I was about to step out. I didn’t see any tricycle, taxi, or any form of public transportation. I imagined how the hell I was supposed to get to her place. One woman started shouting in the car about how the driver was endangering our lives and that he had to get us away from that place. You know I died a thousand deaths right? In retrospect, it is funny how scared I was though the fact that I nearly peed myself is really quite embarrassing. I deviate. Back to my story. Some woman in the car said, ‘Young woman, those are thugs there. You better go and sleep in the bus station if you do not want wahala.’ She didn’t need to tell me the ‘wahala’ before I quickly rushed back to my seat and settled in. The driver started the car again and we headed to the bus station. We got to the park after an additional 15 or 20 minutes on the road. For the first time in my life, I was going to sleep on a bench in a bus park. Definitely got my Lagos hustle on! I slept fitfully and woke up at 5am to some of the other passengers arguing about the roles of women in society. That would have been my cue to jump in but my body was bushed and I just needed to get to
Virginity…a Woman’s Best Gift
Black Girl Sleeping with a GiftImage: RawPixel Few days ago, the story of a woman who presented a certificate of her purity to her father on her wedding day went viral and drew both positive and negative reactions from people; though it was more negative than positive. If you hadn’t seen the story on the internet, here is a summary. Brelyn Bowman is a black Christian boutique owner and a preacher of purity. She got married to her heartthrob – Tim Bowman – who is a gospel artist. They never had sex throughout the time they were dating and she presented a proof of her virginity to her father on her wedding day. How sweet, right? She even went further to urge women to keep themselves pure for their husbands too. Now looking at it wholly, it is very admirable that she did that, especially when there is so much pressure to have sex in today’s world. It takes real self-control for a couple to restrain themselves and what they did is laudable. Having said that, there is a need to clarify why I have a bone to pick with the proponents of virginity. In our African tradition, there is great emphasis placed on a woman’s virginity. Some men say it is ‘the most important gift a woman can give husband’. This has been passed down for generations and generations until it has become the norm. Our mothers have taught us to remain virgins until we are properly married. If your mother was a virgin when she got married, then you got that talk that was always laced with ‘How your father met me as a virgin and I have known no other man’. You know that talk right? Anyway, back to the issue. While Brelyn was urging women to use her life as their launching pads, she forgot that not every woman has the choice to keep themselves ‘pure for their husbands’. Though Brelyn described her husband Tim as a gentleman, 35 percent of women in domestic relationships are dating, courting, are engaged to, or married to beasts that perpetuate violence against them. This violence includes, but is not limited to, rape, physical and sexual abuse and murder for refusing unwanted advances. Of course these women may or may not be virgins at the time of their abuse but who cares about all that when virginity crowns a woman with purity…right? Another statistic shows that 1 in 10 girls worldwide under the age of 18 was forced to have sex, according to a recent UN report. 1in 10 girls has her virginity forcefully taken from her, effectively cancelling her desire to present herself ‘pure to her husbands’. To make matters worse, children – toddlers, adolescents, teenagers – are sexually abused by relatives (fathers, brothers, cousins, uncles, and aunts), teachers, religious leaders, baby sitters, neighbors or even strangers. Globally, a whopping 19.7 percent of females go through child sexual abuse. These are not my statistics; they are facts reported by the United Nations in collaboration with the World Health Organization. These numbers are women who are forced to lose their ‘most important gift to their husbands’, thus becoming ‘impure’ according to the general belief. And why is virginity only expected of a woman? Why must women be virgins until they are married but men must not? And if men are not virgins and have active sex lives, who are they doing it with? The answer to that question should be interesting. Another question that begs to be answered is why something that is lost in one simple thrust would be defined as the ‘most important thing a woman can give to her husband’? We also seem to forget that an intact hymen does not necessarily mean lack of sexual knowledge. There are tons of women who are ‘virgins’ but yet give – and accept – blow jobs (Fellatio and Cunninglingus) on the regular. There are women who give hand jobs. There are also women who permit their thighs and breasts to be, for lack of a better word, fucked. Did I forget women who masturbate with or without sex toys? Then there are lesbians. And also women who have anal sex. If all these women have their hymen intact, can they still be classified as ‘virgins’ and thus, ‘pure’? My bone of contention is not with Brelyn keeping herself. My angst is how she conferred ‘purity’ on a woman who keeps her virginity. I know women who are virgins but are burning with lust, keeping strife, cheating people, lying for Africa, gossiping, sowing seeds of discord, tearing families apart, stealing from friends, colleagues and their work organizations. I also know that there are virgins with nudes on their phones and their boyfriends’ phones. Is the hymen then the determinant of purity? And is purity one-dimensional or all-encompassing? My mum, like most mums, told me that if my husband marries me as a virgin, my husband would respect me. I love my mum but I do not agree with her on that point. I have seen men who beat the crap out of their ‘virgin’ wives for the most trivial of reasons. I have seen men who were the first boyfriends of their wives, the first and only to sleep with their wives, but also the first to cheat with any woman who is willing to welcome them in. I know of a woman who kept telling me that virginity was the best gift a woman could give. One day I saw her crying. She told me her husband had infected her because of his randy ways and the infections had affected her ovaries. She was constantly in immense pains until the infections got better. But she has had to face the same destruction to her body almost quarterly. Her husband went to her office one day and saw her in a meeting with her colleague; a man. They were sitting close together and bent over papers discussing. The husband stood for
Boko Haram: Gunning for a Religious War
Soldier with missiles.Image: Reuters The insurgency in the North Eastern part of Nigeria has left thousands dead and millions displaced from their homes. If you are reading this, you know that the punch you felt at the onset of the insurgency is sadly lacking today. This is because the reports of attacks are almost daily now, with Borno, Yobe and parts of Adamawa taking the brunt of the attacks. Yes, the attacks have spread from the North East to other states like Kano, Kaduna, Niger and Jos and even the capital city, Abuja, but none of these states have had to deal with the sheer loss of lives and displacement of people as the North Eastern states of Nigeria have. Now, I have been following the news about the insurgency; not only because it saddens me to see people murdered in cold blood and my role as a would-be journalist, but also because I live in the North East. You cannot imagine the thought that goes through my head every single time I hear of an invasion, ambush, attack or bombing. I know my family, friends and loved ones aren’t really keen on my being in the North East so I know that they worry when they hear the stories coming from this region. After the bomb blast in Yola yesterday (October 23, 2015), I came home to several missed calls from my family wondering if I was okay. I had to call my mother, grandmother, sisters and friends to assure them of my safety. It was while I was doing this that something struck me. ‘BOKO HARAM MILITANTS SEEM TO BE GUNNING FOR A RELIGIOUS WAR IN THE COUNTRY’ I pursued this thought for a bit and imagined that I was finally becoming a conspiracy theorist. The thought wouldn’t leave me, no matter how hard I tried to shake it off. It even followed me to my dreams. I decided to do some research about it and my research is lending more and more credence to the theory. Let me explain what I have been thinking. When Goodluck Jonathan was President of Nigeria, the Boko haram sect became bigger, more ruthless, much more daring and inhumane in their insurgency. Many people expressed what they thought was the Boko Haram ideology. At first, it seemed like they wanted to prevent formal education as postulated by Western countries. Then it seemed like they wanted to prevent any thing that looked like the West; religion (in this case Christianity), government institutions, the security forces and the general capitalist ideology that the country was tilting towards. It was no surprise then that the United Nations building, prisons, police headquarters, schools, markets, parks, government buildings and churches were attacked. While most people expressed shock at the attacks, it really didn’t touch people until places of worship (churches) started taking the brunt of the attack. People were mortified that the sect would dare to go to ‘houses of GOD’ to perpetuate their heinous blood-lust. The number of attacks on churches increased such that people waited every Sunday to hear which church had been attacked where. Here are a few examples of such reports as chronicled by Wikipedia. 1. December 25, 2011 – 41 people were killed by Boko Haram militant attacks and shootings at churches in Madalla, Jos, Gakada and Damaturu. This marked the beginning of attacks in churches; 2. January 5-6, 2012 – 37 Christians were targeted and killed by the Boko Haram militia; 3. April 8, 2012 – 38 people were killed following a bombing at a church in Kaduna; 4. June 17, 2012 – 19 people were murdered following bomb attacks at three churches in Kaduna. The bombings in Kaduna stretched already terse nerves between Muslims and Christians in the state; 5. August 7, 2012 – Deeper Life church shooting; 19 people were killed when Boko Haram gunmen raided a church in Kogi state. This lead to reprisal attacks the following day, resulting in the death of two soldiers and one Muslim; 6. December 25, 2012 – 27 Christians were killed in Maiduguri and Potiskum by suspected Boko Haram Militants; 7. December 28, 2012 – another 15 Christians were murdered in the villages of Musari by unknown gunmen thought to be Boko Haram; 8. January 31, 2014 – 11 Christians were killed in Chakawa by Boko Haram; 9. February 14, 2014 – while many people were celebrating Valentine’s Day, the Borno Massacre happened. In that massacre, 121 Christian villagers were killed by Boko Haram in Konduga, Borno state; 10. February 15, 2014 – a day after that horrible massacre, 90 more Christians were killed in Gwosa by Boko Haram. In that same attack, it was reported that 9 soldiers also lost their lives; 11. June 2, 2014 – the Gwosa Massacre, where 200 (mostly Christian villagers) were killed, happened in Borno state. The attack was attributed to the Boko Haram sect. Nigerians rescued from the clutches of Boko HaramImage: Anglican Cable Network Nigeria In comparison, the numbers of mosques attacked while Goodluck Jonathan was president were far fewer than the number of churches attacked. These attacks were; 1. August 12, 2013 – in an attack in a Maiduguri mosque, 56 people were killed; 2. November 3, 2014 – a double suicide bombing in Yobe state left 15 Shiites dead; 3. November 28, 2014 – a bleak day indeed for many Muslim faithful, especially friend and families of the 120 Muslims killed during suicide bombings and gun attacks. The people killed were followers of the Emir of Kano, Muhammad Sanusi II and they were killed at the Kano mosque where the Emir prays; 4. February 1, 2014 – a suicide bomber killed five people outside a mosque in Gombe. So it seemed like the insurgents were targeting people who shared the same religious belief as the incumbent President. This, I believe, was to push the president to do something irrational, like choose sides and order the killing of those who didn’t share his faith. Many Christians cried out
Desperate Times and Desperate Measures
Worried Black GirlImage: Naija News Agency I always use every opportunity to learn from life. Some of the lessons are easy to swallow but others are just bitter pills. Take my house issue for example. Immediately after my service year, I got a nice apartment in an upscale neighborhood. The rent should have been cut-throat but because one of my Pastors was related to the owner, it was very affordable. I was told the owner was out of town and wanted someone to ensure the house wasn’t empty. The house was a 3-bedroom flat and I was given one room. The owner’s nephew was in one room and the other room was leased out from time to time. I was okay with the arrangement. I was hardly home so I never had any run-ins with my housemates, neighbors or their family. A week after I had moved in, I had the desire to return home early and when I did, I could not believe the scene that met my eyes. The neighbors’ kids were playing football inside the living room. I was livid! The dust they had kicked up and the dirt they brought in turned the room I had swept that morning into a refuse dump. Turns out that the neighbors wanted me to settle in before showing me how things were done. From that day, things changed a lot. I would come home to a messed up kitchen with the sink filled with days of unwashed dishes, pots blackened from improperly set stoves and pieces of food on the floor. Rats had a field day in the kitchen and one had the effrontery to chase me one day! The owner’s nephew had the kids from the other flats do his cooking and dishes, so he could not be bothered if the dishes were done or not. He didn’t go into the kitchen except to fetch water so he was okay with the smelly, dirty and nasty excuse of a kitchen. I wasn’t and I raised the issue with him many times until we were at a point where we were barely speaking. My compulsive nature wouldn’t let me take that! I had kids coming into my room and taking stuff when I so much as stepped out to get something. I caught one little girl going through my bag one evening. I stood behind her quietly to give her the benefit of doubt. I was right; she was a little thief! She snuck in after I had seen a friend off and left the room open. When she turned and saw me, she could have died! I called her much older sister and had her handle the issue; but not before banning her from entering the house whether I was there or not. All of these weren’t as bad as when the person in the next-door flat bought a rickety I-pass-my-neighbor generator. He put the generator right at my window, with the exhaust facing my room; because he DIDN’T want to face the church we shared a fence with. Night after night, I would be poisoned with carbon monoxide and disgruntled with the irritatingly noisy generator set. It got worse when he came into some money and bought a bigger generator. Since we had problems with electric supply, the generator would be on for almost 24 hours! As a result of the constant drone of the generator, I always woke up with a nasty headache which only dimmed as the day wore on. In fact, the man came to me one day said, ‘You dey try for this noise oh! Thank GOD my room is really far from the generator.’If you know me, you probably know the facial expression…and subsequent reaction I gave him. I desperately needed to leave that house. The sky spirits *in King Julien’s voice* were in agreement. The owner of the house died and his wife needed money to bury him. She left Lagos and came to Yola. She didn’t expect to find people in her house. Yes they had tenants in the other houses but the thought of tenants in her house shocked her. She said her husband would never have given the house to tenants. Turned out the nephew was the one who gave the house out to make some extra money on the side and he told no one of it. The entire house deal was a shoddy affair. And said nephew had left the country for school…if that is what it was. I was stuck. I had no receipt, no evidence of payment and quite frankly, no reason to be in that house! After much discussion, the widow agreed to let us stay in the house if we were willing to pay a 50% raise on the house rent her nephew in-law collected. When I told her I could not afford that, she told me to either pay up or leave…in two weeks! I weighed the messed up kitchen, lousy neighbor’s kids, horrible power situation, the constant poisoning and noise pollution and I knew I would not pay 50% extra to continue living like that! So I started going up and down and blowing up people’s phones for agent contacts. I was looking at houses for a whole week after the ultimatum. My radio shows were suffering, I wasn’t eating or sleeping well and I was dropping weight by the pound but I wasn’t going to give up on my house search. The houses were either too expensive or in neighborhoods that were not friendly. Even though life was bashing me, I knew I had no option but push on. Two days to the end of the ultimatum, I headed out with my friend to look at some houses. We got to a neighborhood that was neither upscale nor completely ghetto. They were offering two rooms for a little above the price of my house. Yeah, it wasn’t great, I had to share the toilet and live with mostly uneducated people but
Happy Birthday Olamide Adeola!
We were still wearing pinafores when we met. I heard she was one of the most brilliant students in her class and that attracted me to her. We didn’t become friends in the real sense until we got to SS1. That was how we became pals for life. We have fought each other but we have always managed to find our way back to each other. Who is she? Pilot Olamide Ruth Adeola Ogunmola. She is one of my oldest and ‘bestest’ friends; the oldest being Kennie Westt Smoothwalker. Next year, we would have spent 15 years as friends. ‘Wow!’ doesn’t even begin to define it! She went through all odds to become a pilot. Everything seemed to be working against her. For almost a year, she was literally going through hell. In all this, she maintained her position of prayers, respect, honor and faith. In the end, GOD crowned her with success beyond understanding. She is a peace loving, humble and excellent spirit and she has always inspired me to be better. We have had so many experiences that have bonded us together. My first flight was on a plane was piloted by her. Can you beat that?! I told her I was nervous and might disgrace my grandmother by throwing up and screaming like a banshee. She spoke to me calmly until all my fear dissipated. I still take blame for causing her to change schools but if that had not happened, we will never have met out third musketeer; Falilat Omo T Mohammed. Together, we have built a friendship that has stood the test of time! Apart from my sisters (Halimatu Sadiya Ochekliye and Enigbe Ochekliye), these ladies have been my biggest source of happiness, love, joy, peace, wisdom and influence. They are my anchor and I love them all! Today is Lamide’s birthday and I want to use this opportunity to bless GOD for her life! I am so proud of the woman she is; loving, caring, tender, driven, humble, beautiful, successful and glorious. Happy birthday my love. I pray for more wisdom in your life, more favor, grace, power, wealth, understanding, happiness, joy, peace, love, strength, direction and blessings as we celebrate your day today. Shebi I dey Lag now we for paint town red (with mouth oh!). I love you girl. Proud to have you as my best friend. Let us do this for 50 more years and to eternity! Happy birthday Ore mi! Have a blast! PS: I go fine pictures when we still dey break kwakwa. No vex you hear! Enjoy the memories the pictures will evoke. More photos below!
