Baby Boy

My heart is full,. On this day 18years ago, I was 41 weeks pregnant. Dr. Bourne had told me he'd let me get to 42 weeks before inducing labour if nothing had happened before then but I had to go in at 41weeks to check if Baby had changed his mind about vacating his apparently overly comfortable lodgings anytime soon. He's just Baby for now because I was quaint enough to want to be surprised by the gender of the baby, despite Dr. Bourne's amazement and constant questioning about the wisdom of that decision. 

Anyways, on that morning we get dressed and head to the hospital for an early appointment, hoping to get that out of the way quickly before getting the pancake breakfast I'd been craving. I wasn't even scheduled to see Dr. Bourne. Hed set it up for his office to just take my vitals and send me for the scan and he'd review the results later and call me to schedule when to come in the next week, since I reported that nothing had changed physically.

Well the scan was done and the technician told me she couldn't let me leave, that she'd have to page Dr. Bourne and let him make the call as to whether I got to leave or not, but she didn't think he was going to let me leave. 

Ah ah! Wharrapen? 

Apparently,  Baby had drank all the amniotic fluid. There were literally just small pockets of fluidaround him, as she showed us. Now for at least the last trimester of this pregnancy I'd drank almost as much water as I'd drunk the entire year leading up to that point. Ice cold water. It had to have shards of ice in it. I'd trade one bottle for another the moment it was all liquid. Apparenrly that was all him. He still drinks water like that today.

But I digress. Let's just say that I didn't get to leave rhe hospital till a few days after, baby in tow. 

within a couple of hours, I was admitted and labour was being induced. This baby had ro be born Pronto! 

But I haven't had breakfast! Well that's fantastic.  We can start right away.

But I'm hungry! Well this will be over in no time and you can get something to eat afterwards.

Lies! Baby had other plans. He just wouldn't budge! And, Hebrew woman that I fancied myself, I said I'd only consent to a CS as a last resort...

and we weren't at that point yet, were we? So induce on!

Well after a few hours of needless stress- thank God I'd at least consented to the Epidural, mama and baby were exhausted. Dr Bourne told me they'd stop inducing to give us both a couple of hours to rest up and then baby had to come out one way or the other. We resumed the process and after about another hour with no progress, it became clear baby needed to be forcibly evicted, for his own good.

At 5.57pm on Saturday 28th September 2002, baby boy Oluwadara Oladoyin was pulled out. The first thing I remember hearing was "look at all that hair!"

The next was comedian Dr Bourne admonishing the nurse. She had handed the swaddled baby to my husband with the usual advise, hold him like a soccer ball.

No! Dr Bourne whisper-yelled. He's Nigerian- they kick their soccer balls, not cradle them.

Chadwick

 He really was a gift wasn't he? 

One that'll keep on giving long after he's gone. His body of work, popular and otherwise; his activism; his voice... 

I'm still not sure why I had such a visceral reaction to the news of his passing. I'd admired him from a distance much like everyone else, in that absent-minded way that assumes that the object of your admiration would always be there so there was no real urgency to the expression or demonstration of that admiration. 

 From across the screen you could see what an unassuming, charming young man he was. At the same time you could tell that the currents ran deep under that calm exterior. He had a lot to say and give and he was not shy about delivering his message, perhaps because he knew he had a limited time to do so- there's something freeing about that. He never stopped living, even near the end. He enabled us to continue to really see him and hear him instead of the disease, by sparing us the news of it. But what a burden it must have been, answering questions and being in on plans about a future you weren't going to be part of. 

So here's what I've learnt: since we are not promised tomorrow, whether or not we've been giving a timeline by doctors, let's live each day like it could be the last 

Let's treat each meeting, every email, every phone call with our loved ones like it could be the last- don't leave without making amends and expressing how much we love them. 

Let's speak our truth. The consequences may be far milder than we imagine. If they're not, better to have have spoken it than to leave this side without anyone really knowing what we're about. 

Let's live our passion. It will evolve over time. Whatever it is in that moment, give it your all. 

Let's be kind to everyone we meet along the way, it really usually never costs more than we can afford to be nice. You have more capacity than you imagine. 

 Let's be courageous. Let's show up. Let the cause be bigger than our fear. 

Let's tell people our positive feelings about them. If they don't reciprocate it it's their loss, but what if they do and they're just like us, afraid. Or what if they're no longer here tomorrow- then we'll never know. 

Let's listen with or ears and our eyes and our hearts. We'll hear a lot more that way. 

Oh, and with all of today's temptation to be popular and be first to break the news, let's be loyal confidence-keepers. 

I hope that writing brings the catharsis that I'm seeking. 

This really hurts. The frailty of rhe lives we deem so precious has been held before our eyes. I hope the lessons stay with us. I hope that the candle he's lit continues to burn.

And oh, I pray that what he saw happens.

Love and light

The househelp dilemma

I just watched a video of a housemaid who was caught trying to poison her madam by mixing her drinking water with insecticide. All premeditated, as she had apparently retrieved the bedroom key from its hiding place in order to do this.

If you're from these parts you've probably seen at least a couple of versions of this story- housemaid stole, tried to poison, maltreated younger child, pooped in plates/pots/pans, etc
What I find to be a common thread in these situations is that the housemaid is usually quite young, or sometimes an older teenager who's been a housemaid for several families since she was a young girl.
Now I know that it is dang near impossible to be a working woman in this clime without any help in the home and I know that there's no foolproof solution but here's the thing- 

1) These girls are young and immature. Teenagers take foolish decisions even under the best circumstances
2) They witness your children's privilege. A privilege that they have been denied through no fault of theirs. That can make anyone bitter
3) As an employer, it is natural to expect certain standards of your employees. You won't cut them the slack that you would any other child of that age that you know. To your mind they're your employee and that's unacceptable. To their minds, junior did the exact same thing the other day and you just shook your head.
You're both right!
4) I think we can agree that practically noone willingly wants to be in this situation. So there's got to be some natural resistance within their spirit and their psyche, to this situation that they find themselves in
5) Some of them left home so young they barely had time to learn anything, and yet they're expected to naturally be able to carry out all these chores because they are housemaids.
6) A good number of them have endured physical and/or sexual abuse, some over a long period
7) 100% of them have some psychological trauma as a result of all of the foregoing- who wouldn't?

There's so much more that could be said but I think the key is this- 

DON'T EMPLOY UNDERAGE KIDS AS HOUSEHELPS.
Employ an adult who can engage on their own terms.
It really can be as simple as that.
A lot of people don't even really make the connection between child trafficking and forced labour with the young maids in their homes. Take another look!

It's not enough that they're given nice clothes or sent to the neighbourhood school. They really need to be allowed to be kids.
▪️I know that the economic reality of this region may sometimes mean that that is the only chance at an education that this child gets, but if he/she has to clean up after and serve the family, or has to look after another child, or really do anything else that the other kids in the home don't have to do then perhaps we need to revisit the idea?
▪️I know also that some would argue that they may have to do those things anyway if they were with their natural families. 

That's true. Every child should help out at home. In which case no child would have to do it outside of their own home.

The law of Demand and Supply is universal. Supply only dries up when there's no demand.

So how do I get the help that I need around the house?
i) As I said before, contract with an adult. The terms will probably be different but it's better for everyone in the long run.
You can view it the same as you view your relationship with your driver, tailor, supplier, etc. One where there's a two-way conversation and hopefully mutual respect but you're still paying the piper so you can dictate the tune.
ii) Another way to get some help that's much less popular today is to have a relative live with you.
a) If you have a niece/nephew/brother/sister/cousin that's a young adult and just starting out in life they can live in your house rent-free and help with the kids.
There can be a schedule that's well thought-out and upfront that allows everyone in the household to pitch in as required and still have a life.
b) Or you could get an older relative to help out- an unmarried or widowed aunt, a relatively young grandma, etc.
These may involve being creative about role sharing but are still viable options. For example the gateman may become responsible for sweeping the compound, perhaps for a little extra money, the preteen may become responsible for taking out the bin, etc
iii) Or get a combination of a live-in relative and a live-out adult maid if a live-in adult maid is not an option. That way you get the help AND the supervision you need.

The bottom line is that we have to get creative and think widely about what alternate scenario could work for our household, one that does not involve an underage child as a househelp.

I hope someone takes a second look at their situation on account of this post.

Love and light.

Hope

So here I am today, the first day in forever that hasn't been a frenzy of activity from the moment the day starts.
I've eased nicely into this day and I'm getting through all the stuff that I've had outstanding for a while now when suddenly I feel the urge to google myself- I know, I'm strange like that.
I was pleasantly surprised to find one or two mentions other than my Linked-in profile and Facebook page. Interestingly though, none of the images attached to my name are of me- which I'm actually pleased about. I am officially a woman of mystery! A couple of mentions and no photo- just enough info to pique your curiosity but not enough to be considered overexposure.
From there I get the urge to google my late father- he's been on my mind a lot lately- probably because it's just gone past the 10 year mark since he passed, and he has a posthumous birthday coming up in the not-too distant future. Anyways, that search leads me to a blog I wrote about cancer- I'm giving it the little c, not the big C.
So there's the story of how I happen to be writing a post this morning.
Remind me again why I don't do this more often? I love to write but lack the discipline-that's why!

Today I'm hopeful. I'm  hopeful that Nigeria will work better as a nation.
I'm hopeful that hard work will be rewarded and Kings' hearts will be touched.
I'm hopeful that my sons will grow up to be strong, productive, god-fearing young men.
I'm hopeful that the growth that I sense within me and my critical relationships will continue to flourish.
I'm hopeful that I become less of a procrastinator and more of a Just-do-it girl!
Today, I'm just filled with hope. I'm filled with a sense of endless possibilities.
I'm going to ride that wave of hope into fruition.

I'm looking at an invite to an event which may be a fantastic networking opportunity at a high profile event or a time waster organized by a chancer- hard to tell at this point. I'll do my research and hope it's the former rather than the latter.

Have a great week filled with hope. I will!

Salvation

It is now seven or so weeks after the Chibok girls were kidnapped. Not only have they not been rescued, there is no evidence of on-going efforts or any reassurance from our leaders that gives us hope that they will be rescued.

In those seven weeks life has gone on for the rest of the world. We’ve had babies, celebrated weddings, funerals, birthdays. People have been promoted, fired, employed, jailed, freed. Buildings have been built, some torn down; friendships made and broken, and yet it’s more of the same for these girls and their families.

The sameness of despair, the sameness of not knowing if you’ll ever see your loved ones again, the sameness of wondering each day what kind of life you can possibly have after this horrendous ordeal.

Will Bulus still love me? Did they go ahead with Sister Sarah’s wedding without me or did they shelve it? Is Papa better after his eye surgery? Does Mama have anyone to help her fetch firewood? Is my baby sister Aisha potty-trained now? Can my brother John ride Papa’s bike to the farm now?

I don’t know. I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I don’t know because I’ve been cruelly torn away from the life that I knew, from the bosom of my loving family. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. I do know though that my life will never be the same again.

I will never be that innocent girl with the playful smile anymore. I will never be that young girl with a bounce in her step anymore. People will never look at me without judgment in their eyes anymore. Would I be able to look in a mirror and see myself without judgment?

I don’t know the answer to that too. But I’m tired now. I’m tired of crying for help every day, and yet help never comes. I must arise now. I must find the strength within myself to carry on. I must find the strength to face another rising of the sun. I must be strong for my friend Ruth. Ruth is sick and each day I can a little bit of light leave her eyes. I must be strong for Mama. She would die if she knew the indignities I’ve suffered. I must be strong for Aisha, the child of my mother’s old age; the child that I have known since Mama got pregnant would be my responsibility to raise and educate one day.

I’ll dry my eyes now and get on with it. The enemy must not see me broken. To him I am defiant. To him I am an enigma. I have not broken down and given in like most of the other girls. He does not know that I weep in private. I weep under cover of darkness. I weep under my headpiece in the dead of the night. My soul is constantly awash with tears but I will not let him see them. I will not let him taste the victory. If I give in to despair what hope would my friends hold on to? I will sink into depths so low I may never find my way back up. So I cling stubbornly to hope. I cling stubbornly to defiance. I cling stubbornly to my savior, in whom I know I’ll find salvation. Someday, somehow.

 

 

 

Nigeria, what time is it?

In the wake of the Chibok kidnapping and the other atrocities that have since happened, the Nigerian government has caught a lot of flak, severe mockery and tongue-lashing from everybody, qualified to do so or not. The totally uninformative and overly defensive interviews given by our top ranking government officials on CNN sealed our fate. Where there was uncertainty before and we might have been persuaded to give the benefit of doubt, things became crystal clear- not only were we not looking for the girls, we had no clue how to begin to search for them, or how to deal with a whole host of national issues for that matter.
Now that in itself is not a crime, the crime is remaining complacent instead of seeking direction.

It is now four weeks after. Life is slowly returning to normal for most people. The Social Media furore is dying down and the protest marches are dwindling. I understand that the vagaries of day to day survival have not gone away because the girls were kidnapped, or another batch kidnapped a few weeks after, but I wonder...
I wonder if the girls are now accustomed to their new existence and its now the new 'normal' for them
I wonder if they now greet each new dawn with the usual enthusiasm of most young girls
I wonder if they now view their captors as their family and have no hatred in their hearts towards them
I wonder if they miss their mums and dads and siblings and cousins and friends less now
I wonder if their mums and dads and siblings and cousins and friends miss them less now
I wonder if a moment passes when they don't think about them and wish they were back in their arms
I wonder if life has returned to 'normal' for them and their tears have dried up
I wonder if when they think of their girls they can shrug their shoulders and say 'c'est la vie!'

I wonder, and the answer is no. Life will never return to 'normal' for those girls and their families. Sadly, not even if and when they are found.
The horror of this atrocity will always live with them. The memories may thankfully fade over time, but they will never be erased.
So is it too much to ask that we keep the watch? Can we do better than Jesus' disciples and not fall asleep on the watch? Can we continue to watch and pray until they are found? Can we think of practical ways in which we can help the families now and after the girls are found, and set the ball rolling now?

This kidnapping and other events are signs and symptoms of a greater evil in our land. We have become so self-centered we would never consider the notion of not looking out for numero uno first. We have been battered with so much bad news we have become inured to it. Our milk of human compassion is drying up. We can't become riled up enough to take any serious action if it doesn't affect us directly- but there's the danger, it does affect us. Even though Esther was in the King's palace Mordecai assured her that the annihilation of the Jews would affect her one way or the other: she would either be killed alongside them or somebody else would save them and then she would become persona-non-grata before the Jews and possibly the rest of the world, ever so ready to castigate.

We know now that our government doesn't know. They have feet of clay just like us. Knowledge is power, let's use that power. Let that knowledge spur us to personal responsibility. Let that knowledge spur us to vote, to vote wisely, and to keep our leaders accountable from day 1, to take an active interest in what they do and don't do right from the start.
Instead of posting and reposting the admittedly shameful videos of our leaders showing ineptitude, let's write inspiring posts, comforting poetry. Let's make videos educating people about positive things they can do to help the victims all around the country, about steps to personal responsibility.

As for me I refuse to propagate our shame, I refuse to repost any video, I refuse to post any photos that are not positive or geared towards keeping the girls and families that have been thrown into desolation in our thoughts and prayers.

We are told in Ecclesiastes that
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

 

What time is it now? What season are we in in our nation? Let's figure that out and respond appropriately.

 

CHIBOK- Questions Arising

Since the news broke, the nation has been in a frenzy over the kidnapping of schoolgirls in Chibok, Borno State. On the 14^th of April 2014 Islamic militants suspected to be members of the terrorist group Boko Haram, broke into the Government College Chibok and kidnapped well over 200 girls who were in the process of writing their final year exams.

Over the course of the almost three weeks between then and now, there have been several different reports on the case, and rather than nearing resolution, the case just gets even more befuddling with each new report.

At the weekend of 4^th May, roughly 18 days after the girls were taken, we got our first official response from the federal government on the issue, not by means of a national address or communicae, but by passing reference to the case in the President’s media chat, and commentary by the Presidential Spokesperson on a reported declaration by the US Secretary of State to help bring the girls home.

This Day newspaper reported that the US Secretary of State gave a speech in Ethiopia, in which he mentioned that the US had not been hitherto involved in the case, but was pledging their support to help bring the girls home and that this effort would commence in the days following his speech. Only on the heels of this speech did we get our first insight into the stance of the presidency, and indeed what has been done so far to bring the girls home.

While I am still pondering over that, there is a presidential media chat on the evening of the same day, and while I don’t usually subject myself to the torture, I had to watch this one, because of course the nation’s most burning issue had to be addressed, right? Well 3 or so minutes to the end of the interview one of the media men finally addresses the elephant in the room. I’ll get to his answer in a minute…

A number of burning questions have been raised by the whole social media frenzy and preponderance of unsubstantiated reports, mainly due to a lack of communication by government. So much so that some people have wondered if there ever was really a kidnapping? Was this just another ruse to distract us from the abysmal state of affairs in the nation?

Here are some of the questions raised, and the answers I have gleaned, between the newspaper report and the media chat. Mind you, I am not promising you satisfactory answers, just the answers that exist.

Q1        How are there close to 300 girls in an exam year in a Government Secondary School in Chibok, northern Nigeria?

A           All the final year students in the Chibok area had been relocated to the Government College to take their exams. WAEC had requested that all exam centres in the North-East be relocated to the state capitals to afford greater security, and also because they had lost some staff before in accidents while trying to reach the rural exam centres. The Borno state governor responded in writing, stating that he would provide adequate security for the schools. Subsequently about 530 students, 395 male and 135 female were registered at the Chibok exam centre, being students of that school and several other schools in the area. Boarding facilities were only available to the female students.

Q2        Did the Borno State government give the parents of the abducted girls a sum of money? If so, what was this money meant for?

A           This report is unsubstantiated. The girls have not been declared dead. Indeed the search for them has not even commenced! It is very premature to be offering compensation to the parents now- not that it would help in any case. It would be irresponsible of any government to do this.

Q3         Why is it impossible to determine the exact number of girls missing?

A           There was a mix of girls from various schools in the boarding facility. Some of the girls registered for the exams at the school may have chosen not to board at the school, and some of the girls were reported to have escaped from their kidnappers earlier on in the case and are now with their parents. All of these make it hard to put an exact number to it.

My personal opinion though is that if the authorities cared enough, a simple case of deductions would bring us to that number. We have the total number of girls registered for the exams. The school should have a total number of girls that decided to board for the exams and were therefore present in the school that night. The school can and should contact every parent that had a child in the school that night to determine whether or not their child was one of the ones who managed to escape. A little Arithmetic manipulation and we have a number! But of course we don’t have a number because only the first variable seems to be certain!

Q4        Three weeks after the kidnap, our president vows in a nationally televised media chat, to bring the girls back home, if only the parents would cooperate and give the police information about the missing girls- pictures and names and the like (that's his response to the media man who broached the subject). ???

A           Errr, First of all- why are their names and pictures essential to them launching a rescue attempt? We are talking about over 200 girls abducted en-masse! Are you going stop each girl you find and search through a database of 200+ pictures? As far as we know the girls are still together in groups, and in one place up until last week!

              Secondly- the girls were writing their final exams, organized by a national body- WAEC. I think it is safe to assume that WAEC would have a list of names and indeed passport photographs of every girl that was registered for the exam at that school. Indeed the WAEC boss has indicated that they DO have those details.

              Third, was there actually a structured avenue set up for the parents/guardians to provide information, assuming that was necessary? Were they just supposed to go to the nearest neighborhood police station and hope that information would get passed along until it reaches the right person; or were they supposed to fly to Abuja and drive up to Aso Rock or to the Police IG’s office and demand audience?

Q5         Why has it taken 3 weeks to get any word from the Presidency on this?

A            Your guess is as good as mine.

             World over it is a known fact that the first 72 hours after a kidnapping are the most vital to the possibility of a successful rescue- I’ve watched enough TV and read enough books to know this for a fact. After this the trail grows progressively colder. Now in this case, up to two weeks after the kidnapping, reports were still coming in of sightings of the girls within a certain area. First there were reports they were moved from one bush location to another, and then they were reported to have crossed the border towns into Chad and Cameroon in smaller groups. The chances of retrieving ALL the girls are getting slimmer. The chances of retrieving them undamaged are now non-existent.

              Hurry up with those pictures already people!

Q6         What is the stance of our first lady in all this?

A           Well on Friday night, 2.5weeks after the abduction, she holds a meeting with stakeholders and at the end of it issues an ultimatum to the Borno State government to bring the girls back or else she will march to Borno government house- I’m sure the governor is shaking in his shoes now and rushing to get them this minute. She says they might as well kidnap her too if they don’t bring the girls back. Hmmm

              I have just watched a youtube video of part of that meeting- the dame is sitting on her throne pointing fingers, shaking her fist and tongue-lashing various people for their part in this fiasco, then in a scene Nollywood would be proud of, she reminds everybody that we are all accountable to God- at least I think that’s what she’s doing- and then takes up her spotless handkerchief and promptly bursts into tears, accompanied by loud wailing and sniffing, after the handkerchief goes over her face.

 

I’m exhausted now, and despondent. My 7^th question was going to be why is everyone pleading with the US and the international community to come save our girls? It’s not like our government (who have the primary responsibility) have tried and failed.

              People are chastising the international community for keeping quiet in the face of this disaster; given the reactions to the recent disasters- the case of the disappearing plane and the unfortunate drowning of South Korean kids when their ferry capsized. I don’t think these situations are similar- Flight Mh370 had citizens of several different countries on it, took off from one country headed to another, and came down supposedly in the waters of yet another. It truly is an international disaster involving many nations, and even in this international case, the primary country of concern led the search first, before the other nations took over.

Our situation could and should have been managed by our government. I’m sure the world expected it to have been dealt with swiftly and decisively, given that over 200 young girls were involved, they were minding their business when it happened, and throughout this fiasco people have known exactly where those girls were to a good level of accuracy, and they have shared that knowledge publicly. So much so that some distraught parents attempted to launch their own ill-equipped rescue bid. An ill-advised course of action, but action all the same!

At this point though, knowing all of this and still convinced that it is our responsibility, I am forced to add my voice to the plea for international assistance, because at least then we would be doing something while there’s still a chance of getting most if not all of the girls back. Please, come help BRINGBACKOURGIRLS!!!

Of Warriors and Downward Dogs

So I attended my first ever yoga class today.

Why?
Because this year I'm resolved to try new things, and to act at least once on as many of the far-out thoughts I have everyday as I can. That's besides all the wonderful benefits of yoga, which I'm sure you can read all about elsewhere.

During the course of this 60 minute class, I had a number of epiphanies:

1) I have slowly but surely crept from being 'slightly overweight' to just plain overweight

2) The 360 degree mirror is one of the cruelest inventions ever . I shall no longer laugh when I watch 'How Do I Look' and the 'fashion victim' appears startled when they walk into the 360 degree mirror and see how really bad they look

3) You should never attempt to do Yoga on anything but an empty or near empty stomach!

4) You don't need to wear gym shoes to a yoga class, you're gonna take them off anyway! (I know that one should be obvious, but it wasn't, so there)

5) A well padded waistline is not only a nuisance when you're trying to find a skirt that works, or to pour yourself into that dress you bought last summer and only got to wear once -Why oh why are there so many moves that require you to draw your knees up to your chest?

6) I'm a sweater. No, not agora or cashmere, the water and urea type. I mean bucketloads of it. Okay maybe that one wasn't really an epiphany, but I marveled at the fact that I was the only one dripping all over the mat and floor while the other two ladies just had an elegant sheen of perspiration on their foreheads. And this one's not even about being overweight. I've been all sizes, and I sweat. And yes, I did remember to wipe the mat, even though I'm certain they're disinfected everyday.

7) 'Fluid' took on a new meaning. Really? You're supposed to transition smoothly from being upside side to the 'Hu' position within seconds without losing your balance?

8) My legs are disproportionately long- a trait I share with Wendy Williams. I'm only about 5ft 8" but I have to shop for 'long' or 'tall' pants otherwise my hem is flapping around my ankle like a relic from 'That 70s Show' as I walk. Anyway, this proportion is why I believe its impossible for me to keep my knees straight and my palms on the floor at the same time. I may get better at it with time, but I'm just not sure I'll ever be able to fully assume that particular posture.

Verdict?
I'm glad I went. The cost of one class is much less than I would spend on extras at the supermarket, or dash the random person asking for money, or spend on the unnecessary 'treat' at the drive-in window or ice-cream parlor.
I'm on the road to wellness, and if I lose weight in the process as I'm sure I will, hurray for me, even though I'm not making that the object of my wellness/fitness plan this year.

Bring on the spinning class!

Feeling The Heat

I read with sadness, the news about a Lagos lady who met an untimely death from a faulty water heater in her home.  She was electrocuted while trying to take a bath. As a result we have been advised to switch off the heater before turning on the taps.
Now I recently got a heater installed in my bathroom which has no water storage facility. The water is heated as it passes through the heater. This means that the only way I can have a warm shower or bath is to have the heater on while I'm having the bath or shower.
You see my predicament?
A friend suggested that I revert to the 'bucket and bowl' method. Mix the water in the bucket, then turn off the heater and use warm water out of the bucket.
Its been quite a few years since I've had to do that. Not to sound like a snob, but I think I've outgrown that method.
Its what I did out of necessity back in the day in secondary school where it was sometimes just bowl, as that was all the water you had anyway.
Its what I did growing up when very few houses had showers. It just wasn't the norm.
Its what I did back when we were a young married couple and lived in an area where we rarely had running water or if we did there was not enough pressure to make it run in our upstairs flat.
Incidentally, I have since moved to a 'much better' neighborhood where there is zero government running water. At least it ran occasionally in the former neighborhood!
Yet I have gone to great pains (and no small expense) to ensure that I can take a shower, a warm shower in my bathroom in my current neighborhood.
So picture this, I somehow constantly ensure that I have water, that it is at least safe for household use, that it can flow through the taps in the house, that it can flow through my 'rain' shower upstairs, and finally that it can flow at the temperature at which I require it to- lukewarm...and now I can't have a shower?
I can't have a shower because I am in a nation filled with mostly fraudulent workmen and tradesmen who charge you for the original product and supply you with the counterfeit.
I can't have a shower because I am in a nation filled with fraudulent- again, mostly- builders who know what the real deal looks and smells like but would rather fill the house with cheap fittings that give out under the first sign of strain. You buy a fully finished house at the cost of a fully finished house and you have to strip all the electrical fittings and plumbing before its livable.
I can't have a shower because despite how hard it is for an individual to ship in even personal effects into this country, merchants are shipping in container loads and shiploads of defective merchandise from all over the world everyday.

Now while I'm busy weighing my options- the daily possibility of electrocution or the imminent fall back to the bucket-and-bowl class, I read a comment on Facebook.
Someone again shared the unfortunate story of the lady who got electrocuted, and as we are wont to, several people gave their comments, informed and otherwise.
One uninformed gentleman dared to rub salt into my wounds by commenting that 'this is a classic example of the saying that hard work does not kill, but too much affectation does'.
His exact comment below:

This is what Yoruba says as Ise kin Pa'yon ayo lo pa yon" why do we need hot water heater in Nigeria. A little cold shower is good for all of us. But Feel sorry for the poor woman. May her soul rest in peace.

Now I do not personally know this gentleman. We just share a mutual Facebook friend, so I resisted the strong temptation to comment.
By the way, I now fully understand how all those Twitter and FB wars are started. Its by someone making a d***khead comment about something they know little or nothing about, and some other person being unable to resist the urge to set them straight.

People take warm baths or showers for various reasons: 
For people, usually very young or very old, who are unable to properly regulate their body temperatures. The body is at a higher temperature fresh from sleep, so turning a cold shower on those people could well kill them!
A hot or warm bath to relax at the end of a stressful day
Some people, like me, have a condition where they itch like a leper (not sure lepers actually itch, but you get my drift) for the next couple of hours if they bath in water of a temperature significantly lower than their body temperature
Or how about some people just prefer the feel of warm water!

Whatever the reason, I say to each their own.
It is almost uncouth to make a statement like the one this gentleman has made simply because you have a different preference!
No, a little cold water is NOT good for ALL of us.

If this viewpoint were correct why should anybody wear green, when you could wear red or orange?
Why would anybody live in Ikeja, when we could all be living in Surulere or Ikoyi?
Why travel, when you can stay in your own little corner of the world and never experience anything different?

Dear Mr. Facebook commenter, its different strokes for different folks. Learn a little more about the world before you make such sweeping statements.

And no, I refuse to be relegated back to the bucket-and-bowl class.  I shall each day step into my shower with my heart in my throat and a prayer on my lips

Thank you Fashola!

The approximately 1.38km Lekki-Ikoyi Link bridge has been open for a few months now and I'm sure 'Thank you Fashola!' is what most commuters are saying. Yes the toll is steep, yes there's sometimes traffic there too, but it still beats going through the LCC toll gate and sitting through hours of traffic on Kingsway road and Ozumba Mbadiwe road, if you have no business to conduct in VI and are merely trying to travel between Lekki and beyond on the one side and Osbourne and beyond on the other side.

Those of us whose addresses have been upgraded to 'off Bourdillon' are also thankful. I can now say my address and Ikoyi in the same breath. After all, only 1.38 odd kilometres separate us.

Another reason we have to be thankful for the bridge is the unprecedented surge in 'health consciousness' of residents from both ends of the bridge. At least I hope that's why there are hordes of people on the bridge everyday, especially weekends, engaged in all forms of physical exercise.

I myself walked the bridge this past Saturday and I wondered anew at the sheer numbers of cyclers, runners, joggers, woggers, walkers, and even dancers I saw. I kid you not- there was a man with his ipod earbuds firmly in his ears, sunglasses on his face, dancing away to God-knows-what he was listening to. He alternated between dancing and doing a few Taebo moves every couple of minutes. 

There was an older gentleman with a barrel-belly who was surprisingly spry on his feet. I say barrel because calling it a pot-belly would be an injustice. You can only see a pot-belly when you are standing in front of the owner- I could see his belly from several yards behind him.

There was a younger gentleman who had to weigh well over 200kg, and yet another smallish gentleman who had clearly been a sprinter for his village primary school- nothing dainty or fanciful about his trot.

There were of course several women of various shapes, sizes, colors, ages and athletic ability.

I took all of this in while trying to keep pace with a rather long-legged gentleman walking slightly ahead of me, and to keep myself from being run off the sidewalk.

Aside: People, the rules are simple: Walk on the side of the road where you're facing oncoming traffic; If for some reason you choose to walk on the other side, imagine you are a car and keep the same lane you would. In Nigeria, that means stay on your right.
It would be really helpful if I didn't have to play a game of 'chicken' with everyone walking towards me. You know the game we sometimes like to play on narrow roads, when two cars are on the same lane and we wait till the absolute last minute to see who swerves to give the other one right of way?

Anyhow, as I walk I notice yet another group of commuters- people who were walking for transportation, not for exercise or for leisure. I saw various expressions on their faces- from amusement to bemusement.
Amusement, I imagine, at how we all seem so perfectly color-coordinated or color blocked: the orange tracksuit with the purple sneakers, the grey and lime green yoga set with the lime green running shoes. One guy couldn't even manage to match his 'buba' to his 'sokoto', I imagine in his rush to make it to his destination on time, and someone had time to match running gear?
Amusement, I imagine, at the fact that we need that much gear to exercise: the ipod, the phone, the pedometer, the headband and wristband and sunglasses, the...
Bemusement, I imagine, at the eccentricities of the rich and famous- they eat all that rich food and then try to walk or run it off; why would any sane person choose to walk in the heat when he has at least three top-of-the-range vehicles in his compound; they cycle for sport? If I had a bicycle all my transportation problems would be solved!

Well to the barrel-bellied and the overweight gentlemen I say 'Good job!' Its never too late to turn your life around.
To the dancer I say 'dance like no one is watching...'
To my fellow color-coordinated 'Bourdillon area' residents, I say good for us. At least we got off our cute behinds and did something.
To the regular pedestrians I say you can't really know what its like until you've walked in someone's shoes, and I bet you'd do the exact same thing when you get to be an authentic Bourdillon area resident too.

See you on the bridge next Saturday!

The Scourge

Cancer is whipping the behinds of AIDS and Malaria in the race to become the single biggest killer of African potential.  It's winning the race almost hands down! Forget the two biggest contenders AIDS and Malaria, forget brain drain, forget infant and maternal mortality.  Think about it, how many loved ones have to lost to any of those causes in the past year?  If you do have a number other than zero, please accept my sincere condolences. I'm willing to bet though, that you have at least an equal number gone to Cancer.
It's come up with a million and one varieties, a million and one cells to affect in a body, and a million and one ways to evade treatment!
Time was when it was possible to directly relate cancer in a patient to a specific causative agent or predisposition: a smoking habit; a family history of breast cancer; long-term exposure to a known carcinogen, possibly from working in a factory; etc.  Today cancer doesn't need any of those excuses to strike anymore!  People who haven't smoked a day in their life die of cancer.  What do you do to predispose you to pancreatic cancer? or breast cancer for that matter?
Time was when we all knew what the carcinogens were and if we stayed away from them we were relatively sure to be cancer-free.  Now every other day something else gets added to the list of carcinogens.  It's practically impossible to live a normal life without being exposed to at least one cancer-causing agent each day!
We're told early detection is the only real solution, and yet a large proportion of detection/diagnosis is still incidental, happening only after treatment for other diseases has failed.  This in particular is the case for people with no family history or known predisposition, and people in (3rd?) world countries like Nigeria.
Young ladies are getting elective mammograms every day now in some parts of the world because they have a family history of breast cancer.  Older ladies are having elective hysterectomies because they have some predisposition to ovarian cancer- and those are the lucky ones!  The ones who are educated enough and aware enough and possess the resources to actually do these procedures. That still leaves the rest of the population who still get blindsided by cancer everyday to deal with the debilitating sickness, the pain, the sheer agony of the sickness.  It still leaves all of those families to watch their loved ones fade away before their eyes.  We won't talk about how traumatic it must be for a woman of any age who takes preventive or even curative measures to lose such a intrinsic part of their anatomy, a portion that pretty much defines them as that gender.  We won't talk about the fact that oftentimes even after these drastic measures they still lose the battle.
Oh how do we rationalize the loss of an able-bodied young man to cancer due to exposure to hitherto unknown or well-hidden carcinogens in the factory where he worked to put food on the table for his family?  What if the carcinogens were already known but he could find no other work?
So even the handful who are willing and able to take preventive measures still do it at a huge cost- emotional, spiritual, financial, relational, psychological costs.
So it looks like any which way we all pay, right?  In some form or the other we pay, whether first hand or 2nd hand we pay. Such a steep price we pay.
So here I am lending my voice to the cry for a cure for cancer.  Can every nation put their money where their citizen's lives are going? Can every millionaire, every billionaire and every philanthropist put some real money into this? Can every religion talk about this on every holy day and consciously pray and fast about it?  Can every research institute make this a priority? Can everybody do something concrete towards a cure when you read this? Please?
I acknowledge and I applaud all of the people who are in any way contributing to that search for a cure right now.  I acknowledge the giant steps that have been made.  I'm just saying I think we can do more if we all really just give it a moment of thought.
RIP Remi Lagos (aged 51), the latest to fall prey to the scourge. I didn't know her personally, but she contributed immensely to putting Nigeria on the fashion map.

This one is dedicated to my dad Professor Amos Babatunde Folarin (died aged 69); to our friend Bayo Muili (aged 44); to a lovely woman Mrs Ogundipe (aged 62); to Uncle Akintunde (50s); to Donna Summer (aged 63); to Yvette Wilson (aged 48); and to all the other people who've fallen, and those that are currently battling...

DanaRama

"The federal government has lifted the suspension of the Operating Licence of Dana Airlines," Joe Obi, spokesman for the aviation ministry said in a statement.

"This follows government's satisfaction with the air-worthiness of the airline after a rigorous technical, operational and financial audit."

On the 3rd of June 2012, at least 159 of God's most precious creation lost their lives in an untimely and gruesome manner.  Multiply that number by an infinite exponential factor and you can begin to get a picture of the number of lives that were really affected, the number of families that were thrown into grieving, mourning, disarray, despondence, hopelessness, truncation, stagnation- you get the drift- on account of this one incidence.
Exactly 94 days after that ill-fated journey, on the 5th of September 2012, we hear the above announcement over various news media.
After the crash, people were understandably hurt and angry and the authorities did the right thing by opening an investigation into the cause of the plane crash, and suspending Dana from flying.  The black box from the aircraft was sent abroad to be decoded, in aid of said investigation. 

Forgive me for repeating information that we all got from the news media, I'm just testing to see that indeed that information was not available to only me, who had access to it by some special priviledge or connection with the powers that be.  If indeed it is true that this information was openly available to us all, am I over-reaching in thinking that through the same news media, we should also have gotten the information on the results of the investigation, and at least a layman's account of the details of the 'rigorous technical, operational and financial audit?'
As far as I know, at the end of every audit there is an audit report. So I am not wrong in assuming that such a report must exist and must be in the possession of our highly esteemed officials, right? 
Would it be too much to ask that they share that report with us, seeing as we are still grieving for our dearly beloved departed friends and family, and we would like to feel that we are doing something to ensure that their lives have not just been wasted, and that at the very least our authorities have done something to mitigate against a repetition of the same factors causing a future accident even though they are not God and cannot mitigate against other, as yet unknown factors?
Would it be presumptuous of me to expect to hear the news of the results of that investigation, and a report on a review of Dana's, and indeed all the other airlines' processes and procedures, before the news of the lift on the ban on Dana airlines?

It's 94 days after.  Each victim didn't even get one day of respect?
Don't get it twisted, 94 days is sufficient to do all that's required, so I'm not advocating that Dana continue to be punished even after all that's required has been done.  I'm saying let's show a little respect for the citizens of this nation.  Let's begin to put their lives and welfare ahead of other interests, personal and commercial.  Show us that due diligence has been done and I would gladly go out and fly Dana or any other airline that's expedient in the moment. It's simply not enough to announce that he ban has been lifted.  All is not uhuru.

If, again, I am the only one who does not have this information on account of my reclusive lifestyle and lack of basic infrastructure, and indeed all this information has been made publicly available, then I apologise for my tirade, but today, I just don't feel like turning the other cheek!

Ibiye and His Goat

There's an adage in my local language that I've probably heard a handful of times but never really thought much of.  Seemingly out of nowhere, I started to think about it and I think I finally understand it.  Picture this: There's a blind man named Ibiye.  Ibiye owns a goat, which also happens to be blind.  The adage describes Ibiye's goat as being the cause of much abuse or insult to its owner on account of the fact that it's blind, just like it's owner.
Doesn't seem to make much sense at first perusal, right?
Well if you consider that in the same language, the exact same sentence could mean 'you blind goat' or 'you blind man's goat', then it begins to make a bit more sense.
So, if there was a son of an alcoholic dad who got drunk one day at a family meal and someone said 'what a drunkard'!  Who would you reckon they're referring to?  
As with most Yoruba proverbs, the meaning of this one is multi pronged.
On the surface, it may mean something akin to 'those who live in glass houses should not throw stones'.  It could translate roughly into: If there is already a propensity towards some negativity in your life, do not do anything to perpetuate that notion.  I know! I know!  That last sentence goes against everything I know about writing and speaking but I'm going to let it stand.
On another level it says to Ibiye: because you're blind, to most people, your goat is never going to be anything more than the goat of the blind man, no matter what great feats it accomplishes.
To the goat it says: were you not also blind, at least your blind master would have one good thing in his life, one thing to be proud of or happy about.
Essentially, it's saying to fathers, mentors, and all people in the superior position in any relationship to set worthy examples and to keep their image untarnished so that their misdeeds do not reflect negatively on their protegees; and it's saying to all children, protegees or all people in the 'junior' role in such relationships to ensure that they do not repeat the mistakes of their superiors.  Chances are that they may have been able to make said mistake on their own without anyone making to much of it, but given their superior's record, the conclusion , justifiable or not, would be that 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree'.
So there's the lesson, whoever you are, watch what you do lest it reflect poorly on your loved ones.  Afterall, the evil that men do does live after them.

The writer in me

There's a writer in me.  This I know for sure.  Sometimes I think the writer is right there on the surface, it's who I am; sometimes I think that writer is so deeply buried that I don't know if she'll ever see the light of day.  But of this I'm sure, there IS a writer in me.
I find that writing, as with everything in life is a discipline.  Whether it comes easy to you or its hard for you, it makes no difference. So far, I've waited for the inspiration to hit, and it has hit, but if my livelihood was dependent on those hits, I'd probably be homeless and hungry right now.
So here's what I'm saying: no matter how much talent you have, you've got to cultivate the discipline to practice and improve on your act.
It's the reason why some people will never work at a job that does not pay a fixed salary at the end of the month- because if it was all up to them they would get up some mornings, and some mornings not.  They would show up some days, and some days not.

Talent is a hard taskmaster- it requires you work harder than the next guy who does not have that talent because you know and the people around you know how much more you could accomplish on account of that talent; and everyday you're not exploiting that talent something dies within you, whether you acknowledge it or not.
I'm not necessarily talking here about how much money you can make from exploiting your talent.  I do admit that it would be fantastic to be financially successful at something that comes naturally to you, but excelling at something you're naturally gifted for provides a satisfaction that trascends that.  It gives almost a sense of destiny fulfilled.

The other thing that I know about myself is that I'm a bit of a perfectionist.  I would rather not submit a report than submit one that's imperfect.  However I'm beginning to realise more and more everyday that that report was only imperfect in my own perfectionist eyes!  To most other people it was lacking nothing.
Talented people tend to be the worst self-critics in their area of talent.
I recently heard that 'perfectionism is a form of mediocrity'.  I don't know who the original author of that was, and I spent quite a few days grappling with it.  It irked me to no end, but I think I finally understand what it's saying.  If in trying to get the report to be perfect you end up not submitting the report, what conclusion is the person needing the report to draw?  The most logical one is that you're a charlatan who has no clue, you're lazy, you're inconsistent, you're......  Supposing you had submitted the report it might have played out in two ways: the report might have been perfect just the way it is, which is the more likely option; or it might have needed a bit more work to get it to meet the user's needs- note that this does not necessarily mean that there was anything wrong with the work that was done before.  Either way, you would have received some feedback upon which you can then base the improvements you need to make on your work, rather than relying entirely on your own, dare I say, flawed view.
So here's what I've decided to do- I'm going to dig deep and exhume that writer within me, and I'm going to keep her on the surface by writing as much as I can.  More importantly I'm going to put my stuff out there and grit my teeth while I wait for the critism, which even now the 10% of me that allows for anything short of perfection, realises will probably never come.
So, here I come world...

Seasons

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1.

When we hear about seasons we automatically think about the four seasons that make up a year or a cycle– Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter.  Each of these seasons has its own peculiarities, things we automatically associate with it- cold with winter, freshness with spring, etc.

It occurred to me that seasons in the life of a human being are analogous to the seasons of the year.  And as with the seasons of the year, they occur in cycles.  I imagine that there could be an infinite number of cycles but I identified three

1)    Chronological cycle

The period from when you’re born till late teenage or early twenties is the spring of your life, the planting season.  Your parents invest in educating you and otherwise training you for life. 

From about mid-twenties to mid-forties it’s summer, you blossom and bear fruit.  Your education pays off, you get the great job and great salary, you get married, have kids, travel the world.

From about mid-forties to late sixties it’s autumn.  Your health may start to decline, you get grandchildren, things generally slow down from the frenzy of the summer years.

Well, when you die its winter for sure

2)    Incidental cycle

We’re thrown into different seasons by the events happening in our life.  When something new is happening in our lives, its spring.  You just got married, you just had a baby, you just started a new business.

When you get the promotion, watch your child graduate, get the business award, its summer.

Sudden ill-health or death in the family would plunge you into autumn.  Should the illness result in death, autumn becomes winter.  The failure or loss of a business, foreclosure of a home, etc, plunge you into winter.

3)    Self-inflicted cycle

Sometimes we take certain decisions that force us into a particular season.  In fact, every major decision that we take in our lives force us into a certain season.  Sometimes it just accelerates or decelerates things a bit, but sometimes it catapults us straight through several seasons. Deciding to start a family, quit your job, rob a bank, etc. will force you into a season, good or bad.

The important thing to remember is that seasons are always cyclical. So even though winter may appear a little longer than usual right now, spring will show up at some point; and even though you’re enjoying a long sultry summer right now, autumn will come knocking eventually. 

Hal Borland said: no winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn, and

William Blake teaches us to learn at seed time, teach at harvest, and in winter enjoy.

Nurture over Nature

My Toastmasters CC3 speech...

According to Wikipedia, the nature vs nurture debate concerns the relative importance of an individual's innate qualities versus personal experiences in determining individual differences in physical and behavioral traits.

The debate on the one side is illustrated by Manolakes’ thesis which purports that “an individual's intelligence - no less than 40% and no more than 80% of which is inherited genetically from his or her parents - has more effect than socioeconomic background on future life experiences." On the other side is John B Watson who said that if he was given a dozen healthy infants and his own specific world, he could raise the infants to be specialists in randomly selected areas regardless of their natural abilities, talents or inclinations.

I am more in favour of the interactionist school, illustrated in the quote by Ridley that says that "Mother Nature has plainly not entrusted the determination of our intellectual capacities to the blind fate of a gene or genes; she gave us parents, learning, language, culture and education to program ourselves with."

This theory is supported by the many many stories we’ve heard of people who are born ‘disadvantaged’, or became so pretty early in life; already supposedly defeated by disability or circumstance, but who somehow rose above that to be great success stories. The Ben Carson story is one of such; Ray Charles, the great musician is another; Nick Vujicic, the guy with no limbs but who’s living and advocating that we all live life without limits is another of those stories. South Africa’s Olympic gold medalist Natalie du Toit is another.

Were these people born with a gene that somehow made them better able to cope with and even rise above their disabilities or disadvantages? I don’t think so.  In fact the stories of these people that we’ve read in books and watched in films show us that they all suffered periods of depression and self-doubt, but each of them had at least one person in their lives who believed in them and nurtured them through their disability and somehow helped them turn it into ability. For Ray Charles it was his mum who knew she wouldn’t always be there to look after him so she encouraged him to be independent. She would watch him fall down but with tears in her eyes she’d refuse to help him up.  She didn’t move anything out of his way but actually placed obstacles in his path to help him train his other senses so he could get around on his own.  For Nick Vujicic it was his family’s and ultimately his faith in God, and a special relationship with his grandfather that helped him pull through.

There’s no doubt that Ray Charles had a great musical gift- that’s nature, but would he have been able to reach the heights that he did without the particular type of nurturing that he got?  My opinion? No. Would Nick be such a success story today without his family’s and his faith, despite his undoubted charisma and speaking abilities? No.

On the other side are the children who grow up to be psychopaths and serial killers. The websites ‘America’s famous serial killers’, and ‘murderuk.com’ reveal that almost all of the listed serial killers were born ‘normal’ but had issues of abandonment and abuse in their formative years; or had personally experienced or witnessed severe pain or loss, also in their formative years. Only a handful were listed to have mental illnesses.  In other words, once again nurture (or the lack of it), rather than nature appears to play the biggest role in how these people turned out.

Am I therefore discounting the effect of nature and genetics on how we turn out or who we become? Again, no. I cannot because I myself have two beloved sons who are as different as night is from day. It is sometimes hard for me, never mind a stranger- to believe that they’re both being raised in the same household by the same people. So obviously some of their behaviour and traits, maybe even a large part of it is ‘how they were made’ but I do believe that parents, the environment, culture, etc can and do help mould an individual into a person that’s more likely to succeed or survive in the human jungle we find ourselves in.

That’s why I never give up trying or give up hope when I have to tell my older son for something like the one thousandth time that it isn’t always acceptable to speak the first thought that comes into your head without editing it, or to express every opinion that you have, or when I tell my younger son that saying no occasionally does not necessarily make you a bad person. I truly believe that I can nurture them into a form of their inherent nature that’ll make them happier and more productive people, and I urge you to never stop trying in your roles as parents, teachers, coaches, mentors, bosses, with the young people who have been placed in your world.

Confessions of a Soapieholic

So I decided to share my ToastMasters speeches with you.  Here's my favourite one so far, probably because I had so much fun giving it; and so far it was probably the best meld of the speech I wrote, the speech I wanted to give, and the speech I actually gave.  Entertaining?

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

That’s the ‘Serenity Prayer’, and it’s the creed of the Alcoholics/Narcotics/Nymphomaniacs/Shopaholics/Road Ragers Anonymous.  I saw a number of people automatically recite it with me, and it just makes me wonder…..

I have an addiction to soap operas, otherwise known as ‘soapieholism’.   Most nights I start out by having Kaaskook and Hanepoot with Charmaine at Oppiekoffie, then I segue on to Siqalo Court to glean a few nuggets of wisdom from Kaphela, from there I jet out to California to visit the doctors of Oceanside Wellness Clinic, or to Fairview to visit my friends Gabriella and Bree on Wisteria Lane, or to the streets of Miami to solve a murder mystery with Horatio

I love soapies for a number of reasons; one is the abundance of drool-worthy gorgeousness! The hunks have abs that even the gods dream of and walk with just the right amount of swagger, and the babes have toned triceps and glam gams, and the homes and offices are always beautifully decorated. Picture all the doctors of Oceanside Wellness in one of their offices- Usually my brain freezes over, my jaw hangs slack and my ears start ringing from the sensory overload my eyes are getting… Compare that to this real life roomful of people… but then the writers leave them with just enough dysfunction in their lives to keep them out of the realm of angels- Paula is stunning and has boatloads of je ne sais quoi, but she also has a weakness for handsome men so she can’t stay faithful to Altus, Addison is a kick-ass surgeon but she has a mum who’s never once told her she loves her, Cooper is cute and loyal but he’s a recovering porn addict. Still, the mess to beauty ratio is usually significantly higher in real life.

The other thing I love about soapies is that people usually have such great relationships.  I’d like to have one friendship like Meredith and Christina’s- everybody knows they’re going to take each other’s sides no matter what the issue is; I’d like a friend like Queen who’s willing and ready to go on a therapeutic shopping spree with me no matter what time of day or night I call her- she can always take time off work and she never has a hot date that she can’t bear to miss; or I’d like a friend like Ugly Betty to be my conscience and keep me on the straight and narrow all the time. Most relationships in soapies are like armoured tanks- indestructible- they survive anything from sleeping with each other’s exes and family members to sabotaging each other in the board room and at job interviews.  Real humans are considerably less charitable and more fickle than that.

The third thing that I love about soapies is that I get to learn so much random stuff- from the medical fact that certain types of cancer in women cause an overproduction of testosterone which may cause them to be aggressive and even violent, to the meanings of simple legal terms like ‘discovery’ and ‘subpoena’, to the inane fact that it’s impossible to keep your eyes open when you sneeze.

Hi, I am Orange Girl and I am a soapieholic.

God grant me the serenity to accept it when the networks kill off my favourite character, the courage to actually get out and socialise with real people every once in a while, and the wisdom to know when to PVR and go out, and when to excuse myself and stay in.

My Stormy day

Ok.  So here we are again.  Me trying to share my thoughts and opinions with you.  I got locked out of my previous blog- makarenablogs, so I started a new one!  Hopefully I'll be more consistent this time.
Well its a wet day in Lagos.  One of my returnee friends actually referred to what happened this morning as a 'tropical storm' on FB.  It WAS quite blustery, and I even thought I heard hailstones, but I couldn't help laughing out loud at one of the comments she got- someone asking her what she was feeling like decribing Lagos rain as a 'tropical storm', Mungo Park?  Indeed it was a tropical storm, it's just nobody expects a Nigerian living in Nigeria to describe good old rain and hail as a 'tropical storm'.  Well it was certainly stormy enough to send my cable dish out of whack.  I am now waiting for the 'installer' to come and tilt it back into position to receive the satellite signal. 
They say God works in mysterious ways- once again, right on the money, because I probably would not have done this first post on my new blog if my signal was fine.  I'd like to believe I would have had the descipline to follow through, but I'm just not so sure (sigh).
I was at one of the Visa Application Centres this morning to submit an application for a UK visa.  I must say I'm impressed with the speed and efficiency with with the process was dealt with, once we actually got to go into the centre- which happened 30 minutes behind schedule because- you guessed it- the 'Tropical Storm' kept the workers from getting to work on time!  Quite a few of them had to push past us clients on the queue to get into their office!  Interesting that the apllicants somehow still managed to get there (sort of ) on time despite the storm, and the workers didn't.
Pardon me if I'm too quick with my praise.  It may be because I've been living in South Africa for the past six years, and therefore have not applied for a visa in Nigeria for quite a few years now.  My memories are of sliding on your bottom across a dingy bench outside of a visa office until it came time to go in; going into a poorly lit room smelling of stale, unwashed, or spiritually perfumed bodies, and sliding along on your bottom some more until it came time to sit across the glass pane from some poorly paid civil servant on a mission to 'catch' Nigerians trying to sneak into their countries the enjoy the 'good life' while they were sweating here in Lagos.  To be fair, I never had a personal encounter with one of those, but I did witness one or two such encounters.
Of course the experience this morning would not be complete without the story of the guards asking for 'something for the boys' or 'anything for minerals' on my way out, despite the large signs all over the centre advising clients to desist from tipping their staff, but to rather fill an 'appreciation log'. Interesting.  Maybe I should have asked to fill it, just to see what it looks like?  Would I mention the specific staff member I'm so appreciative of?  Would this translate into some benefit for such staff- monetary reward or award, a public mention?  Would the staff find this as gratifying as the would-be 'something for minerals'?