No! You will NOT steal Our daughters' rights

I was looking for a link for soft bones when I happened to come across a video made by Stella Damascus, a Nigerian actress who has turned her attentions to issues of injustice and the abuse of power in the Nigerian government and its relationship with her citizens. I switched on the video and was consequently appalled by the subject to which she was raising her voice in protest and the more I listened, the more powerful was the need I felt for me to join my voice in outrage with Stella and every self respecting person, woman, young lady, teenage girl and persons who were doing the same, for our outrage was not for the lack of where to expend our energies but an honest response to the nonsensical unbelievable blatant attack on the defenceless young female child of Nigeria.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=c_knQ-XpR3s

And we all know that if we keep quiet on this issue, then we have basically metaphorically packed the bags of young girls who haven't developed physically, who are innocent in the ways of men, who lack any understanding  of the emotion of love outside that of parents , siblings and in some cases extended families and handed them over together with these girls to sex crazed, paedophilic twisted monsters who do not deserve to be called men for real men don't want children in their beds but real women, matured, fully developed and well versed in the act and art of love, loving and its making. They also do not deserve to be called animals for they also give the majority of this genre a bad name, so we shall call them only that which they truly are-monsters.

This news of members of the house of senate in Nigeria sitting down to discuss , yes you have read right, they sat down to discuss and deliberate on  making  the marriage of young girls, young girls meaning from as little as 9 years old upwards legal. I will ask you to take a moment to let this news sink by reading the above two lines over again for maybe ten times? Please look up this link to read the entire crazy story   http://saharareporters.com/article/child-marriage-name-mbo-owolowo
Who can imagine that in this modern world, grown ass men who may have travelled around the world and who may have young daughters of their own would sit to vote that the raping and destruction of a girl's childhood be made legal?!

How are we to stand up and hold our heads high as a nation when we come from a country whose government says paedophiles are not only welcome but they are safe to look, touch and do unmentionable, unthinkable things  to young female children, things that even full grown , sexually active women would balk at? How? It is ironic that as the UK had made moves to close down loop holes and windows that these monsters still use to try and practice their twisted ways; Nigeria flings her gates wide open and declares a banquet,   handing out putrid tickets declaring a buffet! I am deeply ashamed.

http://saharareporters.com/article/matters-arising-seeming-decision-nigerian-senate-endorse-%E2%80%98child-rape%E2%80%99-legislation-ijabla-ray

Again, difficult as it is to be a Nigerian in diaspora with every vice we've got going on (let's be honest, we're the butt of every comedian's internet fraud joke), our government then decides to drop in another hot potato we can add to the ones we juggle daily trying to prove to the world and ourselves that we are not the norm but the exception. I am so ashamed and agree that every so called mother who is part of these senators, legislators, governing body, whatever they want to call it and is in the corridor or political power and yet allowed this abomination to happen under their noses should snatch off their head-ties and hang their heads in shame, then they should be clean shaven and have their young daughters taken away from them for they have shown with their inability to protect the nation's daughters, that they are unfit to raise and protect their own (and if any was harbouring plans of whisking them abroad to 'protect' them, then they too will experience the helplessness that the average Mrs faces) I spit on them and spit on the men legislators through whom further shame has been brought down on Nigeria's name.

Did they really think they could sneak that bill right behind us and we would only suddenly discover it one unfortunate day? Money  or is it power must really make a man mad! How the matter even became something that came up for debate amongst the numerous disasters going on in our country, defies all common sense! And that the president did not think that this was something to say ' No way ! not on my watch will this happen and that is final' (common, he said something to that point when it was suggested that he  should declare his expenses, so why not this?).

And please don't get me started on his bumbling mess of a over self inflated wife! She is always so quick to add her miscounted, misspelt and mispronounced two pence into every matter discussed in the country irrespective of if she needed to or not. So why has she not spoken up? Has she come up with no change? Or has the proverbial caught her tongue or has she suddenly gotten a severe case of laryngitis and lost her voice completely? Personally, I had always been ashamed of her and her farcical bumbling about mashing up the English language like a bull in a china shop, However now, I am doubling so and wish she would wrap her head in one of those ridiculous head-ties of hers and hopefully walk slap bang into a very hard concrete wall.

Somewhere somehow, the government has tried to pass this off as a religious thing but they seem to forget that Nigeria is not a religious state, therefore it is not a Muslim, Christian, Buddhist or African traditionalist country. In Nigeria, everyone are free to practice whatever religion they so please freely though it seems that a certain group which is not representative of the general larger group and some members of the senate did not get that particular memo. God has not and did not sanction the abuse of a 9 years and upwards girl child for the gratification of some smelly old 60 upward old fart! So those lawmakers who are trying to force the perceived notion of God's agenda for the absolute enjoyment of man especially at the expense of girl and woman, need to know that the majority will not take on the delusions of the minority. Our rights to freedom of worship or the lack thereof was won by blood and daily many still shed blood for that right because we still say no, we will not be forced into a situation just to make some illiterate, backward hillbillies happy. So shame on the lawmakers who tried to make this barbaric action a religious one. May God in all his collective identities rain His wrath on you.

I stand together with Stella Damascus and say 'shame on you all for saying our daughters' young bodies should be your profane playing ground! Shame on you all!

Romance Scammers

I had heard about these scams going on and wondered how gullible a person had to be to be sucked into the scam, but I have to tell you, I've found out that it's very easy!

The scammer takes on the identity of a perfect professional person, nice picture in place and nice but sparce details about themselves but what is paramount is that they wish to meet a person who just wants to be loved and they are very quick to commit to a life long relationship.

But how is one to protect themselves from these scammers? How does one identify them?

First thing is that most of them can't spell for toffee! It's strange but when a so-called 'engineer can't even speall 'sweet' or 'gorgeous' or 'beautiful' then there is a problem there, no so?

Second, they are very quick to want to get you off the dating site or professional site on which you met, they either want you on hotmail, yahoo or this new email site ymail. Be very careful when someone states that they feel that you'd be able to chat better with them on your personal email.

Third, ok, you've moved to private email, they start to flood you with a lot of questions, asking about your life, your job etc. Please don't be flattered that they are interested in you. they are just trying to source you out, see if you're worth playing the game with.

Fourth, they are very quick to suggest and agree to any plans of long term relationship. They use a lot of 'baby, sweetie, darling' and all that jazz that we unfortunately love to hear from the person we think loves us most. My dear, wake up, it's all a lie!

Fifth, once you're well hooked, that's when the demands start and note, they have international numbers, so they will have a number say like T-mobile which offers reduced tariff for roaming but if they claim to be white, they will never have a webcam, they will always claim a reason why it's not working but they will ask you to put yours on and if you're not careful, you may fall into strip teasing for a group of perverts! (This is why having Jesus in your life makes the difference!) LOL

Then, if they manage to call you, they usually have a jacked up accent which they claim is American or British, don't fall for this, always ask questions and you'll find that their phone suddenly runs out of cedit and so they can't call. They try everything to get you to call them so that their scam is cost effective.

So what else can you do to be sure that you're not talking to some fake ass scammer? Go online, use their instrument against them! Check their names, email addresses and you'll be sure to discover that they come up on some scammer website, try and find out details from them; things like schools, degrees, simple colloquialisms of whatever culture they claim to be from and insist they come online with a webcam. They usually either run off or stupidly keep trying to get you to fall in line. Now that's when you have my permission to go on the last thing.

Go crazy, gangsta mad on them; curse them to the tenth generation, tell them how their scam will send them to jail! However, that is the omota way (forgive me, I'm still trying to work my issues out) The Lord help me.

The better way, is to get them arrested. Now I haven't been able to find out what to do yet, I'm asking for advice from professionals who deal with these guys from hell because I too, have an 'American'(scammer) on my hands and I'm hoping I can 'darling, dear' him into jail. So keep an eye out for part two.

Here is a taste of what damage these guys can do if you don't protect yourself. However, before seeing that clip, here is a taste of my omota version on one of such scammers who came on my radar. Learn from this

From: Me
To: Tokunbo Williams (williamstokunbo@ymail.com) The Scammer
Re: Re: hello gorgeous!

Chei!


Dem take una curse me?! Another scammer! Look I be original omo Eko! You should be ashamed of yourself! Using another person's picture to be lying and cheating people. God will punish you and your entire family! You sorry excuse for a human being!

You know how to hack computers and steal people's identities and yet you can't spell for toffee! Olodo! Ode! Oponu! You've seen mugu that you'll now mail and say your stupid mother is dying. God punish your mother and father, idiot!

You will never prosper, all your family will be destroyed. May you and all your sisters, aunties and female cousins suffer pain 1000 times worse than the one you cause women with your jibiti! 419 buruku! Ko ni da fun gbogbo idile e, Alakori, olodo rabata!

If you mail me again, may amadioha thunder your head! It will never ever be good for you, you evil beast. Hello gorgeous ko, o ti ri didirin abi? Ole oshi!

Gerrout off my mail jo! Iwo eniti o ni da fun mo lailai yi, ma ko ori buruku e bami jo!

PS: and yes I've just schooled you in how to abuse someone and STILL BE ABLE TO SPELL! OLODO OSHI!


From: Tokunbo Williams (williamstokunbo@ymail.com)
To: Me
Sent: 13 August 2012 10:38:23

Gdmrng Abi,

How re you doing,i trust ur good n all is well with you? And thanx for getting back to me,i really do apreciate you. And hows ur family,i trust everyone is fine.When i call,i'll tell you anything u want to know about what u asked me but above all am a loving person to be with n i hope ure the same., And dont worry about ur no,i will definately keep it safe.......What i belive av gotton myself into is actually what i love n av been serching for n i thank God av found you....lol. I will call u soon,take care of urself n av a blessed day.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


From: Me

Sent: 13 August 2012 00:46:48

To: williamstokunbo@ymail.com

Hello Tokunbo,

It was nice to read back from you. I hate it myself when I've put out there and the person doesn't bother to respond to me.

Its weird how many names that site seems to have. It really opens up avenues for confusion. Well tell me about yourself,what you're up to, what you do, you know stuff people say to each other when they first meet. I will give you my number and you can call me when you're ready. But just a note of warning, I don't do early mornings, call me before 10am at your own peril!

So you my number wisely and carefully. Lol, I'm sure you're already wondering what you got yourself into.

Well buckle up and you'll find out! 07712346575(Obviously not my real number)

Abi  (Try to keep your first letter as real and chatty as possible)


From: Tokunbo Williams (williamstokunbo@ymail.com)

Sent: 11 August 2012 17:03:27

To: Me

How are you doing...i trust you are good n all is well with you n family. Thanx for leaving me ur email adress on just black singles,its really thotful of you,i would av been hurt if i av never heard from u again. I hope things re well with u generally n i guess ure enjoyin d wkend or do you work wkends? And hows ur family,i hope everyone is fine. I really do love to hear from you,talk to you n even meet up sometimes if its ok with you. My no is 07448953762,i hope u will call me n if u cant will u kindly send me ur no n i will call you....Hoping to hear from you soon,take care of urself n av a blessed day. Thots Tokunbo williams xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This guy didn't even try to give himself a chance but more fool him, not so? Well here's the video and after that I tell you: Go with God!   http://youtu.be/UwqdrB5AeOQ

Redefinition and Stuff: Romance Scammers

Redefinition and Stuff: Romance Scammers: I had heard about these scams going on and wondered how gullible a person had to be to be sucked into the scam, but I have to tell you, I've...

The Inequality of Borders

I am asking myself the question; 'What the hell am I doing here'? In the past months, I have found out that in this world I live in: money is King, degrees don't matter, talent does,crime pays and authorities don't like honesty.
I am so frustrated that the world is so corrupt and bad is good and good is just plain stupid, not being savvy. I am tired, disillusioned and hurt. Tears keep springing up in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall, for they will fall uselessly and then what will be the point. Tears never woke up the dead now do they?

Sight

Do you see me?

I stand clothed in perceived invincibility.

Waiting for prejudiced eyes to fix on me.

I became a virus.

Invading cultures of passing time.

Blinkered, your stench refusal permeates,

leaving an ugly dark stain on

the conscience of the young.

My question remains-

Do you see me?

I became a vision.

Igniting songs, passions, love-

seeking a new fellowship of unions,

forged far away from race, colour, gender, creed.

You stared past me,

resolute in your darkness, even

as many voices joined mine to ask-

Do you see me?

I became a truth.

Staring down lies of a thousand convictions,

revealing that beneath all that skin,

was genotyped blood, flowing

red and all the scales tipped

in the direction of the one

true question-

Do you see me?

I became life itself.

The air, the force,

the being, the question

the meaning, forty-two

all of creation waited bated as

I asked one more time-

Do you see me?

The changing winds whisper ‘in vain’.

Resolution glints in my eye

I stand, in wait as

My heart thunders. Waiting.

The truth clear,

you are blind, deaf but

you are not absolved.

I am still frustrated and angry. There is an unholy rage burning inside me and I pray God to quench it out for only Him can do this, only Him has the water to soothe and calm my soul. I pray God...

While Nigeria Mourns..

This sadness has been building up for a while, then this plane crash happened. When I heard that it crashed in the Agege area, I almost passed out because my family lives there in a top flat and our house is in direct line of the planes coming into Lagos! With my bowels churning, I called my mother's phone, it didn't answer. I was almost wetting myself when I tried again and the phone rang and I heard my mother's voice "Temitope, awa ko o, ope ni f'Olorun" I was almost weeping with relief, I spoke to them and then ran to the rest room.

As I sat there, thanking God, it suddenly hit me; some other people have been tossed into the darkness of mourning, my family's escape is another's misfortune. I started following the news and the more I read, the angrier I became. My friends heard me raise my voice like never before and I was so distraught I fell ill, but mine is minor. My sister-friend cries because her brother is no more and I am too afraid to call her. I am ashamed of my cowardice but what will I tell her? What words of mine will bring her comfort? I cannot bear to bring her more tears and grief. Also, truthfully, I am afraid of what will not be said, the rage, the utter belly wrenching devastation.

I cannot sleep for I hear voices screaming for the sweet mercy of a Saviour to make the passing painless, I hear some cry for a miracle. I close my eyes and all I can see is the sight of wreckage; of lives. My pain is nothing, inconclusive in the sight of a true sufferer's agony. I wish I could hold my sister-friend's hand. She has held mine in times past. It is quiet, I am quiet holding an unknowing silence for the forced out, for these people didn't choose to die, they were forced out of life...My mind says 'Enough' so I sit to write.  


The sadness in my heart collides with the rage in my belly and I am defeated.

I am defeated because lives have been snuffed, lives that will never come back, lives snuffed through carelessness, greed and avarice.

I am defeated because try as I might, I can't bring myself to believe that anything tangible, that will speak of brutal but necessary change is going to happen.

I am defeated because this crash defines a definite change in the lives of many, children without parents, husbands without wives, wives without husbands, parents without children and though people will tell them, time will heal them and they will go on, it is not true. They will always remember that a corrupt, deranged government took precious people out of their lives.

I am defeated because some people will be sacked, days of mourning will end, some ministers will be probed, some presidential tears have been shed but what will then happen? Things will go on as usual and the government will still cut corners with the peoples' lives, money will be carried off in Ghana-must-go bags and there will still be no electricity, clean water, good roads and a sensible and frugal approach to government funds.

I am defeated because the probability that this will happen again is likely. It happened with Bellview, with Sosoliso and now Dana but who knows what other airline is going to put people in an overaged vessel and risk lives, get lucky for a time and clap for the stuntsman who saved their necks and instead of learning lessons, will repeat the same again but only to fail and kill people trying to live their lives as normal as usual.

I am defeated because we have seen the plane but what about the buses on the motorway burnt down while police men wrestle with bags of rice? What about the cars, tyres blown off while the man carries a hole in his head from the assassin's gun and the woman is held down, neck strained, thighs struggling while the devourer has his wicked way.

I am defeated because Presidents will still have befuddled First Ladies, leaders stuck in a belief system that as long as they have plenty, they are better than those who have none. People, educated yet illiterate will shout protests in protection of men carrying divine orders to assault limpid followers as a sign of heavenly ordination. Female students will be defiled on air, rapists basking in the assurance of inglory,impotent criminal investigations and blatant denials of their debasement.

I am defeated because more of my country men will flee the land when the powers of who you know overshadows what you know. For I will see lawyers and engineers keep watch of cold empty halls at night while obtuse bosses with no sight of university walls sleep soundly in their council houses. Ladies with tattered degrees, lying on their backs resorting to the profession, just to keep body, the soul long dead. Time produced children tripping over their own names, confused by the longing for a heritage as far mythed like Atlantis.

I am defeated for tribe will still be in the place of race, the words of unsent prophets will be heeded more than the quiet voice of the heart. Man will still slap woman and rich will slap man for 'do you know who I am'? Protests will rise but fall once bales change bags, and 'occupy' will be used for photo moments, personal agendas, private beefs briefs and the opportunity to make rich with jollof rice and pure water. We are truly Esau's clan.

I am defeated but soon the winds of forgetfulness will blow on my people's faces and they will scramble for rice and garri, in exchange of the soul of their children's future. Touts will fight each other for one thousand naira and Mama Comfort's apeteshi, while politicians will smile richly into palaces, carrying briefcases of our progress to mortgage with indifferent maximum profit investors.

I am defeated because I fear that one day in the future, I will , like I am now, be sitting on my bed by midnight typing out my defeat again.

This rage in my belly jams into the bleeding of my heart. I am too exhausted to weep. Somehow though tears hit my hands as I sigh.

Hairdos: Mother, Grandmother and I-Part 2

Hello people. I know its been long, tooo long but this lack of a computer is really affecting me but I know I will prevail. So here is the part two of my true hair story that I wrote for O'Naturals. I hope you enjoy it and I wish you a very happy week. God bless


Hairdos-Lice


Saturdays came fast! My hair was loosened and washed every other Saturday. I really liked this hair time because the water cooled my head and I loved the smell of the shampoo. My happiness was always short lived because it also heralded the painful process of having my hair weaved. Grandma had given me a sample of her hair making skills two weeks ago and I knew I was in serious trouble!



At 4:45PM, Grandma called out my name. She had the adiagbon, the ilari and iyari (coconut oil, one toothed comb and hair comb) by her side. I put my stool down and reluctantly sat on it. And just like the first time, she clamped my head between her legs and started weaving my hair. As if this wasn’t painful enough, intermittently, she would release a foul blast of wind straight into my face and no matter how hard I wiggled, she would hold my head down and keep weaving.



I cried and cried till I was weak. My mother came out several times to ask her to be gentler but Grandma ignored her. The third time my mother came out, Grandma admonished her: "Look Mama Tope, if you come out one more time, I will leave her head alone and if you like carry her to those who charge you! I know you will look for any excuse to spend my son’s money but no one can say I didn’t try to curb your reckless spending!". At this my poor mother rubbed my back and went back into her room.



And so by the time Grandma finished my hair, my face was swollen and I looked defeated. I staggered to my parents’ room where my mother, on seeing me, grabbed me to herself. I begged my mother to cut my hair, but she said she couldn’t as it would only give Grandma another excuse to complain about how she disrespected her. And so the torture continued. At 4:30PM every other Saturday, just before Grandma weaved my hair, my mother would leave to attend the officers’ wives meetings she never used to have time for. The pain never got better and there wasn’t a time that Grandma didn’t pass wind. I thought it would never end.



Salvation came in the most unlikely way. I had moved into a new class for a new term when a little mixed race girl, Lucinda Ramos-Whyte, joined our class. I was the smallest in my class but when Lucinda arrived, I became the second smallest. Mrs Okondore, our class teacher, put us to sit together at the very front of the class so we could see the blackboard. For a couple of days, Lucinda didn’t speak to anyone and Mrs Okondore would sit with her at break time and go through the lessons with her. One day, Mrs Okondore asked us to share a book and read from it together. So we had no choice but to put our heads together and look at the book.We smiled at each other, I offered her sweets and by long break, we had become firm friends. I taught her all the games I knew like ‘ten-ten’ and ‘my mother told me’ and she taught me hop scotch and single Dutch skipping.



One week to my appointment with Grandma, Lucinda’s dad came to our class to speak with Mrs Okondore. He was very tall and skinny and he spoke very slowly. After he left, Mrs Okondore went around the class inspecting us and telling us what she had discussed with Lucinda's dad. Lucinda looked at me sadly as she asked me if I still wanted to be her friend. I threw my arms around her laughing: of course I would still be her friend!



As soon as I got home, I ran up the stairs into the kitchen where I knew my mother would be and announced proudly "Mommy, I have lice!" I didn’t care about shaving my head to gorimapa and hearing the gorimapa song being sung for me because Grandma would never have to weave my hair again. I could almost sense the relief in my mother’s eyes. That evening my hair was loosened and a scarf tied around my head. Mom bought some head lice medicine and took me to Oga Barber whose shop was down the street.



I felt no sadness when he cut my hair to a short comb through. He applied the medicine and combed the lice out. I sat waiting for him to give me gorimapa but he just smiled and asked me to stand up and go with my Mom. I looked up at her, puzzled as she led me back to the car. "This should be easier for you to manage now, abi?" I nodded happily. "Thank God!" She exclaimed. "Why don’t we go to Apapa Amusement Park next Saturday?" We both laughed happily as we returned home: lice free, hair free and definitely pain free.


Thank you Omozo for the opportunity to do this for your blog. I'm grateful and thanks for the editing. I hope you're doing sometjing with it, you have the gift babe. God bless xx

Sequel to Hairdos at O'Naturals

Hello people. Its a new year and things will be very interesting and God willing, I intend to approach each day with a spring in my step and a view to overcome.

Here's the sequel to my story about hair. This is a true story as it happened to me. Those who know me from childhood would recorgnise the name, though some other names have been slightly changed. My grandmother sadly no longer is with us but she made peace with my mother especially after my father passed away and my mum still kept on taking care of her, she hadn't expected it! Yes, she had been very very mean.

And I must give accolade to Omozo, who edited the original script to fit O'Naturals mode. I'm certain, you will agree with me that she did a mighty fine job.

All in all, Happy New Year! and if you're Nigerian, please join the protest, what our leaders are doing to our country and our people is wrong and unacceptable. Its time for things to change (as they say in church language- Power Must Change Hands!

God bless

Last post for 2011, onward to 2012. Thanks for the love

This is the true life story that I had written for O'Naturals, its a 2 parter so they should be having the 2nd part of it out before 2012, so you can go and read it there. But while I have this borrowed time, I'm posting this to you and also saying 'thank you for reading, for commenting, for believing in me, for praying for me, with me, for being there every single step of the way, silently and publicly. God bless you and Have a very happy New Year.

I on a personal front, hope to have a new laptop, write more, publish a book (this has been a 3 year dream, touch wood for 2012) travel, fall in love? (I'm open to offers) lol and live and laugh more. In all my pain, distress and fears, God has been so good to me. He's given me family,good friends, a best friend & sister, an outlet to express the gift He gave me. I am so blessed and I am certain that I'm on my journey to being pain free, truly alive and well. Here's to more poetry, stories, laughter and life. Happy New Year and God bless you real good.

Hairdos: Mother, Grandmother and I


I’m sitting on my little stool, in the living room, my heart beating just a little bit faster as the long hand on the clock creeps up. Somehow my armpits feel a bit wetter. I know that the door will creak open and ... and the door starts to creak open. I shoot off my stool and race into my parents bedroom and go under the bed. I had been planning this hideout for a while and I was certain that this time I won’t be caught.


"Tope"! My name rings out and I unknowingly shiver. "Why must we do this every time? I know you are hiding somewhere and sooner than later, I will find you, so why not come out and just let’s be done?" The voice fades off and I start to relax but the voice comes closer. "Honestly I don’t have time for this. When I catch you, it will not be funny!" The voice bounces all over the room until it bends over to my hideout and a hand shoots out and grabs me by the leg. Grandmother pulls me to the living room while rivulets of tears fall down my face.

Going to the hairdressers always took so long and ended unsuccessfully because I have a tender head. It had become a bi-weekly nuisance. One day, my mother snapped when she came and found me screaming like a sacrificial lamb while being held down by one hairdresser as the other tried to weave my hair. She paid the woman and marched me into her car with my hair uncompleted.

We got home and my Grandmother, who lived with us, looked at us with a smirk on her face. Mother and her were not the best of friends and mother tried her best to keep out of Grandmother's way. "So you have given up?" Grandmother beamed at my mother. My mom shook her head and said forlornly "I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just shave her hair." I trembled at the thought and whined a big "no". I knew what happened to children who had shaved hair in my school. Everyone said they had head lice and teased them with the ‘gorimapa’ song.

Grandmother came to my rescue. ‘Let me finish it up for her and I’ll do her hair from now on. At least you will not have spend my son’s money needlessly." Grandmother ended somewhat triumphantly. Mom looked at her and let out what sounded like a grunt. I followed Grandmother willingly. Grandmother sat on the big chair and I sat on my little stool in between her legs.

Grandmother’s fat thighs suddenly clamped down on both sides of my head; holding my head so tight, I couldn’t hear anything. Her hands came over my head and like little needles poking at my head. It took me a while to find my voice because I was in shock. She finished up the weave just as my mother came out to see what was going on. "There! You see! Straightforward hairdressing. Done. All that money wasted when you had a true professional at home. And you, shut up!" Grandmother pushed me towards my mother, stood up re-tying her big wrapper around her waist and walked out of the living room.

"You see what you’ve caused now? Hmm? Mama will have something to say anytime you have to get your hair done! Left to me, I’ll just shave your head!" Mother said as she pulled me to herself and wiped my face. At that, I shouted "no". She echoed my voice. "No?! But every time you get your hair done, it is drama and disaster. What am I to do with you?" She scooped me in her arms and carried me into the bedroom where she gave me some paracetamol for my rising temperature and a cold orange Tree-Top drink. So I lay in my mother’s arms wondering how the next hairdressing time with my Grandmother was going to be. I didn’t have long to wait, it was two weeks coming.

For Melissa Hasbrook

It was a simple way we met, Melissa and myself. It was a poetry gig in Wigan. We both performed and somehow, someone introduced us and we started talking and I invited her to come stay at my flat and she accepted. I remember apologising profusely about the dingyness of the flat and she graciously told me it was a good flat.

She told me about her life and I shared mine and she told me of her history and I told her of mine and we chatted late into the night and the next day. I was sad to see her go, this new friend of mine. Imagine! A child of American Indian descent and I a mixed hesistant child of Dahomey and Yoruba origin. Light and dark, smooth and dred, and it didn't matter , for when we spoke, we were children of a common note-earth.

So the bond was forged and she inspired me with her pictures and my poetry of them and she wrote constantly to praise my faltering voice, reassuring me that I had something to say and ears listened. And I confirmed her of a soft bed and lighted heart whenever she came. And as the father watched from the castletop for his son, so I watched for her return.

She returned some months ago and light filled my room but the darkness of my pain formed a shadow which muted my joy, however, she used her light to pierce a hole through and left. Encouraging me to tear further and step back into the light I once danced in. Slowly, I listened for the drumbeat and gingerly lifted my feet, arched to descend in dance. I am dancing now, arms akimbo, head roll-tating in time with the percussion gong, feet laughing along with the gongo as rhythmn slithers up and down my back arching it with esctasy.

Melissa, sister in light, here is this for you.


For Melissa




With a harsh toll, I was awakened

to a new journey removing from self-pity.

Your parcel placed in my hand received with

false cheer from the postman.

Puzzled. I sat on my bed, smiling at memory

wondering what you laid beneath.

Bubblewrap. My childish piqued, till I opened

my epiphany.

Frien. I cried when I saw the prints of life

briefly shared to my excitement.

Realising how much I missed; a heart

who loves, receives me without judgement

I felt ashamed and cried some more.

Salt, tobacco, sage, (juniper?)

You brought healing in a bowl

I let it sit on my table; afraid of what

I did not know.

I confess, I let fear dictate my departure

from Mother Earth, letting her sit,

forlorn, in a blue bowl. Till,

you left and I, apologetic, asked her

forgiveness as I threw your gift on her face.

Friend. Sister. Dear friend.

Forgive my apprehension; I am

a creature of bad habits.

Skin conditioned to prickle at things unknown.

You, a constant voice of praise of my

episodic verse; my inspiration

by Platt’s grave; a visit of different cultures

in a bedsit diverged of prejudice; a light

inviting flickers of hesitation into a

secure knowledge.

I am born again. Tears washing

away the pities of a new age. Lights

like yours confirming again.

God is Love.

My Fight with Fibromyalgia

I have promised some time ago that I was going to explain the condition I'm dealing with but was really hindered by ill health, the lack of a computer and time, but today my church The Bridge kindly let me use their computer in their office so I'll be putting all I know. Now, please note that it took the doctors about 2 years to diagnose me and I had previous underlying conditions like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and while I'm dealing with the condition now and making the best of it through Nutrition, if you want, you can go to the site and read up on it.

I started by being very tired for no good reason. Typically, I am a very strong person physically; I put it down to going to a Military School but uncharacteristically, I got very tired and went into almost shut down mode. Then shortly after that, I developed a severe headache that did like my head would split! As a typical Nigerian, I called home and started praying. My GP couldn't find anything wrong but I was in agony and because it came and went, some friends thought I put it on, just to get off work, but while I have my moments like everyone, the pain was very real and I was prescribed steroids but they didn't help.

Shortly after that, just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I started having severe pain in my joints and my body would heat up and I had some swellings and no matter what test I did  and believe me, I did them all, nothing could be found. The only explanation my GP could come up with was that it was a blood condition I inherited from my dad-Alpha thalessimia, however, it wasn't enough to create the type of symptoms I was displaying.

Well, I can tell you, it didn't get better. I went out so many times for healing prayers, I went to a Chinese pratitioner to seek help, some people started avoiding me, so many rumours were passed around about me. I was living in hell. I couldn't tell my folks back home the severity of my conditions because I didn't want to alarm them but I can tell you, there were times I thought death had to be better than what I was going through. I was in pain all the time, my bones ached, my nerves were super sensitive, I was tired all the time and I had no strength as before, sometimes, I struggled to even dress myself!

I love to cook but I couldn't even cook for myself. I remember one particular day where the pain was so bad, my body was on fire, I had a raging headache, I could barely make it out of bed to go to the loo. No one was around as I lived alone; and one thing Fibromyalgia does for you is it lets you know who your friends truly are, I was hungry but could do nothing about it until my friend and angel, Laura came over after work and she made me something. I had to sleep with my door open as I wasn't certain if I could get to the door.

Let me tell you one truth, there is no way one will be in that situation especially living alone and not fall into depression and it is dark and ugly, so I truly sympatize with anyone who is going through depression. However, after pressing on, I got a diagnosis early this year in February. Though it didn't take away the pain, at least it had a name and it wasn't some curse put on me because of my many sins ( someone actually told me this-to my face!) and once I knew what it was, I started learning about it and finding ways to deal with it.

I would love to say that I found a cure and its all gone and life is great but that is not true. It's a battle I face daily but I'm facing it. After my diagnosis, I informed my GP and my office and I started treatment. I joined a support group and a singing group at church because one of the ways to feel better is to do what you love as it releases happy hormones and I love to sing especially hymns. My symptoms have gotten worse in recent times as I am now falling more but I believe its just a blip and I'll overcome that. I have also started learning how to tailor my diet to help make life more manageable.

Now note, fibromyalgia is incurable according to the consultants and my entire lifestyle has been adjusted to accomodate, for now, this condition but I believe that one day I will be drug free and I will be able to be the strong Abi again. For now, I  try to live life to its fullest each day, I want to be the happiest, fun filled person people ever meet and I personally have good reason for that, I have a personal relationship with Christ and I've got a joy and peace that nothing can take away now. Yes I know I may have to get into that conversation when I meet the man but I know that he will see the spirited firecracker under the frail skin and fall in love with that. And yes! I will love hard, laugh heartly and be throughly delighted with life.

Do I think I am unfortunate, honestly , no, however I know, I solemnly have to consider this condition within my life but it has opened my eyes to the advantage of good health above money and frills. I enjoy life more, I'm more willing to try things, I am determined to finish whatever I start; it has taken me almost 2 and a half hours to type this as my hands hurt with nerve ache but you're reading it thanks to a massage ball because I finished it and if that is not a sign of one who will overcome then I don't know what is!

This is the life I'm living and what a cracking* life that is!

*cracking in Bolton parlance means brilliant

The Visit

This is something new that I have been working on. I would love to hear what you think. I warn you, its a bit long but keep with it.

The Visit



Trepidation.

An insufficient word to cover

The traces of sweat underlying

My armpits as I pack my

Bags; going through checks

Bars, locks and doors, checks

Bars, locks and locks, checks

Bars, doors and bars to get

To him in his numbered shirt

Like a famous footballer kept

From prying eyes, no photographs

Please.

With steady eyes, he gazed at

Me as with trembling hands

I put my bag down wondering

If I could or should shake

His hand as I lift my

Fingers to my hair, a feeble

Excuse of a salute to the

Shadow of what made him

Once great.

Buttocks almost missing my

Seat, my heart pounds

An unearthly rhythm

I’m thinking with rabid

Eyes, yikes! Is there a

Doctor in this house? His

Steady gaze somehow comforts

And unnerves me simultaneously

The guard indicates the

Number five, fingers stretched

Palm wide, brisk, I clutch my

Pad to furiously comfort me

As pen scratches crazily on

Paper working with his lips

As he uttered new lines of

His memories.

There is no sign of remorse

Nor is there of triumph, its

A steady pace of what has

Been, emotion cannot unchanged

It. It’s a tripping of words of

Life gone past, actions committed

In hazes of black and as it

Flows, he’s lifting while

I’m the one sinking.

Behind liquid brown eyes

I furtively search to see if

Somewhere there could be regret

But my fear stops me from

Gazing too long, so I write

Squirrelling away my

Fevered angst, rage and

Pain. The guard comes

Back for five is past and

I pick up my bag, do

Not say goodbye. It’s a

Nonchalant release

Of a practice that is just

Now a hobby.

A quick backward glance

To this murderer of time

But all I see is the back of

His shirt and regret grips

Me once again by the tails

I am dangling between this

Truth that grips.

Mother, I am sorry. A whisper

As clangs of gates echo

My shame, I grip my bag

Closely, my tears glancing

Past the lines of heated words

My whisper completes my

Fear to face father and ask

Him why?

Instead. My footsteps

Echo the words building

Walls on my heart

As block by block

Sound. With each clang

Of the lock and bar

Repeat. You are

Dead to me.

New story and Research

Here's another story I have written for O'Naturals, I hope you enjoy it as its actually a true story. This week is eventful one for me and I'm just anticipating. Its a rush but also a tad nerve wrecking. I hope your week is filled with laughter and pleasant surprises.

Next post I should be able to give you more information on Fibromyalgia to educate you on it. I tell you, doing research on it has been quite fascinating because many doctors over here in Bolton have never heard about it or know very little so believe me, I had to go find the expert on this condition and there's so much to know.

Well God bless my dears and have a really fabulous week. x

HairStory

Hello people, remember that I told you about my guest slot on O'Naturals, where once a month, I contribute a story or poem to their site. Well in case, you couldn't get to their page. Here again is the story in its full form. I hope you enjoy and I hope to be able to sort out my insurance and buy a comp soon.

By the Way- Fibromyalgia is a terror but I refuse to be beaten. I will overcome. I fell down in two places this last week and one was in public- my local bank¬ no need to say, it will be in a while before I go back there. Well keep me in your prayers and I'll be telling you more and putting more poetry up. God bless


HAIRSTORY

Time had passed and I knew I wasn’t as easy to recognise but as soon as he saw me, Deji knew it was me. The first thing he did, after spinning me around, was reach for my hair. 'You changed it!' he exclaimed, half accusingly and half incredulously. He knew how much I cared for my hair in the past and how much money he had personally paid for its upkeep. I smiled and shrugged. My hair tossed a bit in the breeze. 'Well, I like it much better this way’ I replied. We talked some more, exchanged numbers and I left in a cab, leaving him standing, waving at me.


Deji and I dated while I was at university. He was a year ahead of me and from the first day he set eyes on me, he wouldn't let me be. He told me he was certain that I was an angel sent to him from ‘Jah’ above. At first, he was frustrating but I soon started laughing at his words and that’s how we ended up spending the day together. Before he left he asked me if I would go out with him and I asked him how he knew I was ‘his angel’. He said that when I walked in and light shone on my head, he just knew.


I didn’t know whether to laugh or choke! I told him that I had just had my hair done with a 100% human hair weave and it was most likely the gloss from the oil that caught the light. He shook his head and said it didn’t matter, I was still his angel and with that he left. From then on, he visited me frequently, took me out for lunches, ate in my room when I cooked and helped me with some of my assignments. And so we just sort of fell into being a couple.


On one occasion, I had just put in an 18 inch Brazilian hair weave when Deji came over. Although my head felt tight, I looked so good. Deji fell in love with it and could not stop stroking my hair. It would have been a romantic time together if he hadn't caught his fingers in my hair, while he was stroking it, and that hurt terribly. He tried to turn around and sat on some of my weave while I was trying to move and the pain actually brought tears to my eyes! It was disastrous. This was to be the script for the majority of our intimate moments. My hairstyles seemed to be causing us hassles and soon enough we started arguing. I got very angry and kicked him out of my room when he suggested me having less extended tresses. Deji tried to get back with me, to be fair, and I did try to make it work but my hair got in the way.


We broke up, Deji graduated and I never heard from him again. I finished school, traveled to the US for my Masters, my hair went natural and I finally got dredlocs. I had been living in the States for five years when I bumped into Deji again. My phone rang as I got out of the cab. It was Deji. He said it was wonderful to see me again and that I looked amazing with my hair. I smiled to myself and said it was good to see him too. He asked if we could meet up for lunch, we fixed a date and he hung up.


From one lunch date to several other lunch dates and then dinner dates. We realized we were still single and Deji asked me to be his girlfriend. We laughed so much and found a new rhythm with each other. Deji said it was like he was with a different woman and it made him happy.


I look into the mirror to check my reflection one last time. Deji’ is standing behind me and he bends to sink his nose and hands into my hair. I don’t flinch or wave him away. I lean back and remind him we’ll be late for the reception. He smiles at me through the mirror and says the guests can wait; after all we are the bride and groom.

Edited by Omozo Ehigie

My Guest Slot Starts Now

Remember I told you about my guest slot on O'Naturals. Well here's my opening entry. I hope you enjoy it. Sorry about my late posting. I hope I can solve this posting wahala soon. Much love

Work in Progress- Extract from 'Up from the Melon Road'

I've been writing this semi -autobiographical book for years now. Still looking for a publisher. Also been very ill, computer's gone kaput now and I'm in the library. I'd love to hear what you've got to say on this and others to come. God bless




Sunlight streaked in; I’m lying flat on my back, just as I had for the past two weeks. I breathe in deep and feel my shoulder blades contract with the unfamiliar action; I’ve been breathing lightly for so long, it felt unnatural to breathe in deeply, I feel twinges, but it feels so good. I do it again and breathe in real deep.


I rise up slowly throwing the covers from my body gently and I put my feet down on the lukewarm rug, I feel a bit dizzy but its okay. Unbuttoning my pajamas shirt slowly, and standing up I know it’s time. I have avoided facing this demon for so long but now I was ready to embrace it because I knew it was good for me. At last, I see the way to be free. I had prepared for it the night before, getting the long mirror reinstalled into my bedroom, so moving for the first time in two weeks, I was ready to see.

I walk to the mirror, looking into my own eyes, I dread to look elsewhere but I’m also excited. Slowly I raise up my hands and place them gently on them, barely touching and then I palm them; they are so soft and feel strange, so reduced, I circle them, then move up to the nibs and slowly pass my thumbs over them, I think my back groans.

I think I feel pain, but I’m not sure. I feel light all over for the first time, then I look down at them in the mirror and away and at them in the mirror and away and at them for real, they are perfect, round and they are small. The water surges behind my eyes but I blink them away fast, but the waves of a thirty-year pain are hard to dam (ignore). Slowly, then rapidly my tears fall on my naked body and I’m standing in front of a mirror ad I’m raining tears, but I’m not sad, I am very happy, very exhilarated, very, very light.

Interview with O'Naturals

Hello friends,

Just a quick plug for me and my friend. I have been interviewed about my hair on this wonderful blog and I have also been taken on as a guest blogger. I am so excited as it is the first time this year I'll be doing this again. I had thought I had lost my mojo, its amazing what falling in love does for you!

please go the site and read and comment, yes its about hair but I think its interesting.

Cheers and God bless xx

Engaged Lines- A new story

For many years I lived with my friends at our address, each person had their flat but we would come together and have meals, games, conversations etc. For a long time, I took it as granted until one person decided to move out and return to their home. I remember one night where we were eating in oe flat and generally having a good time and I said to them 'girls, hold on to this memory, because one day, that's all it will be, we may never be able to be together like this'. It was like a prophecy, both girls moved out, then the guy and I was left alone. I didn't grieve, I couldn't because I just couldn't believe that it was all gone. Then slowly with help from new friends, I started to grieve and this story is a result from that process. Pardon me if its a bit out there, that's what its meant to be. God bless x

ENGAGED LINES.




It wasn’t till I got to the junction of WaterWorld that I was certain that something was definitely wrong. I had suspected it two days before, when I woke up at ten am and didn’t hear Nife’s familiar two taps on the door. I had woken up with that disconcerted feeling where you know something familiar is gone but you just can’t quite put your finger on it.

This feeling had continued when I dressed up and was about to go up to Nife’s flat to find out how I had gotten up before her, Cylan had stood behind my door, arm lifted, knuckles clenched to knock when I opened it and he scared the daylights out of me.

At my strangled scream, he gave me a gentle smile and put down his arm and introduced himself as the new tenant in Nife’s flat and told me his name. At my puzzled frown, he said she had talked about me and had kept him as a surprise. Now, I know that I had travelled to the States for two weeks and she had mentioned a change of some sort but I was certain that in our recent conversations, she hadn’t mentioned a new tenant or her wish to move out. I shrugged and looked up at him, he was quite tall, but I wondered what he wanted at my door.

He said he had come to ask for some oil, olive oil to be precise, which as I turned back into the flat to get for him, he walked in and started looking around, somehow, I was also drawn into looking around my flat and it felt somehow strange like someone had been in it in my absence and moved things around. Still in my scrambled mind, Cylan asked me to come up to his flat and I followed him, carrying the oil, into what was formerly Nife’s flat. He opened the door and it was very bare and looked very bright like someone had painted white light over the blue colour of the wall.

I sat on the only chair in the room while Cylan poured the oil into a bottle as he asked about my plans for the holiday. I had not been aware of a holiday so I asked him what he meant. Apparently, in my absence, the government had declared a two day holiday to celebrate some royal event. I mused aloud that it was strange that it had not been mentioned in the States then Cylan asked how my holiday was. To my bemusement, it was like I couldn’t remember much, I went quiet but Cylan just shrugged and silently said many things passed unmentioned in the world.

Without much time to reflect on my forgotten holiday, I somehow ended up spending the whole day with Cylan in his flat. We chatted, listened to music and ate flat bread with the olive oil. Cylan said it was very healthy and that olive oil made him more ‘aware’, it all sounded a bit dramatic to me but the meal was nice. We got on really well and I started to wonder if Nife had organised his ‘moving in’ to match make. I had had boyfriend drought for over two years, so I guessed she was trying to set me up and with the way our conversation had gone and his eye appeal, I could be buying her a ‘thank you’ present.

However, I went to bed with a sense of ennui, it should have been a perfect day but there was some kind of overcast.

Waking up late again the next day, I decided to clean up my flat and call Nife and some other friends. It was looking at my mobile that triggered my first worry for the day. My best friend Caroline hadn’t called me at all! This was very unusual as she was normally the first and last voice I heard daily. I was perplexed with myself that I hadn’t even noticed the previous day, I had spent so much time analysing my meeting and chatting with Cylan that I had forgotten my friends.

Picking up my mobile, I called Caroline to chide her for not calling but the line remained engaged and the same thing happened with every number I dialled. So I decided to finish clearing up, and then try again. I had nearly finished when Cylan came down, I opened the door and he was standing there but with another girl. Oh… she was tall, slim and very pretty. I wasn’t impressed but I kept a straight face as Cylan introduced her as Ada. To be honest, I wasn’t very charitable to her but she was very chatty and after sometime, she wore me down and we started talking about music and when I mentioned that it seemed the phone networks were down, after I had tried to call Caroline and my other friends and still got the engaged tone. Ada shrugged and said it was a usual thing, I disagreed though and questioned why all the providers didn’t leave a customary clients information jingle to inform on problems. Then Ada looked at me, then at Cylan and giggled. This annoyed me.

We ended up watching a movie which wasn’t so memorable late into the night and then I asked them to excuse me as I needed to get up early for work the next day. Cylan then said he also had to go out first thing in the morning and we would walk together. I gave him a half smile and said that would be fine and then they both left but I peeped out my door and found that they both went up back to Cylan’s flat. Very annoyed and confused, I went to bed.

I woke up early, feeling a strong sense of oncoming change; I couldn’t shake it off as I got ready. After a while, I started to feel rather light headed but I pushed through and finished up. Shortly after, Cylan and Ada arrived at my door, with an arched eyebrow, I mentally clocked that Ada hadn’t gone home. Giving her a disgusted eyeballing, I stepped out with them and we headed towards the train station.

As we walked, everyone we met, who normally said hello to me, walked past without a word or even a smile. Again I checked my phone to call Caroline as I was now quite annoyed with her and even though the network reception bars were full, the line still stayed engaged. Very puzzled now, we kept walking and as we crossed the road to where WaterWorld was, the puzzlement left and certainty settled in and my heart started to beat rapidly.

It was the flowers that I saw first, then the police notice asking for information about a serious collision, and then I saw the picture. With my chest thumping and feeling very faint, I felt Cylan’s and Ada’s cold hands hold me as I finally understood.

Facing Truth

I had written previously about coming back with a story or two. Little did I know that my life was to take a novel punch or two. For the past two and a half years, I have been fighting an aggravated condition. I know I have had it all my life but it had never gotten as serious as it then became. It has plagued me for a long time, I had been called lazy because of it, back at secondary school, I had been called a malingerer when I had genuinely felt unwell but in all my years, I had not felt it as bad as I do now.

For two and a half years, I wondered what was wrong with me, some people said it was in my head, some said it was an attack from a demonic person of my acquaintance, some people said I should confess my deep hidden sin and I would find forgiveness and relief. I went for tests (cancer gene, HIV, sexual diseases, blood genotype etc) nothing! The only slightly helpful thing was that I had the alpha thalessimia trait which explained some of my body pain and fatigue, however, it was not enough to explain the sometimes bone wrenching, excruciating pain, extreme fatigue and agonising tremours I suffered constantly.

Then late last year rolling into early this year, the term fibromaylgia was bandied about then confirmed with severe spinal pain was diagnosed and for about ten minutes, I wept like a baby in my consultant's room. I was made aware of the fact that it had no cure and I most likely would carry it for life but this did not dampen my relief that finally, I knew what was ailing me.

Shortly after that I had the threat of cancer and potential surgery but with faith in God, much prayers with friends and some trepidation. I got the all clear on my biopsy and no surgery is needed.

In all that time, I have met incredible people who have gone the extra mile to make my life more comfortable. I have almost loved and lost men who couldn't cope with the fact that I might not be the active, agile woman they want. I have had my faith and trust in God tested and hopefully, I have succeeded. Best of all, I have come to know the real me, who I am, my strenght and my weaknesses. I have found a new love and respect for myself and the whole experience has made me more sympathetic, less impatient and more understanding of the world around me and for that knowledge, I wouldn't give nothing back.

Don't misunderstand me, these conditions aren't things I would wish on an enemy and I wouldn't do them again given the chance. I like being healthy,though I mostly can't remember what that was like, however, the lessons I have gained are invaluable. Family is good and important. Love that doesn't run at the sight of pain is real and best of all, I do not believe the report of the doctors, but rather the report of the Lord which says I can and will be healed.

So as I bask in the mercy of my Saviour and Redeemer, and enjoy the love and closeness of my family and open my heart to the possibilities of love ( I never believed that I would enjoy the intimacy of a romance and the stabily of love) I don't have a partner yet but I now know that it is possible. I wish to let you dear reader know, there is truly sunshine after the rain, no matter how long it falls and there is hope, no matter how dark life gets. I know because itt is my truth. God bless.

Quests

I promised that I was going to put in blogs that I've found to be interesting. If you've noticed, I have rearranged the format of my blog. I particularly adore Original Mgbeke, she's just a legend. When it comes to the gossip of what's happening on the Nigerian scene, I usually go to Linda Ikeji and My Naija Lifestyle. Since hooking up with Omozo, I have been paying more attention to my hair and skin and the compliments show I'm not doing badly. I will be guest blogging for O'Naturals once a month, so look out for that, its where I've been picking tips for hair care and generally sharing stories of the joys and headaches of natural hair. Another place for excellent advice on hair and skin care the natural way is LITK.

I'm learning to start loving gently, to be soft and be a woman in the true sence of the word, so I've been reading up Myne Whitman and Till My Dying Day. True accounts from the latter and interesting fictional and occasional love accounts about relationships and their ups and downs.

Its been a very educative, enlightening and interesting browse through the blogs. I hope you find these and others as delightful as I have.

Till then. Take care and God bless x

Love of a special kind

Now I'm no romantic, ok maybe a little bit of a romantic. I like being treated nice like the next girl, being thought of as special. I like to think that a guy somewhere has me on his mind, thinking of ways to make me happy. I have been praying for quite sometime about who my life partner is and how we'll meet and what not and as the reality of it draws closer, I really realise how scared I am of making that commitment, of taking that step and shutting the door on life as I've always known it and open the door to a new life, a new philisophy.

I realise that I can't just say this is how I want my marriage to be and expect everything to fall in line. It is going to be meeting someone who's from a different background and lifestyle and together we lay our dreams down and work together towards us. In this, there's no me, just us. All my notions, beliefs etc have to aligned and adjusted and questioned and I have to answer questions like why,when and how.

I have to think realistically about the future, look at a man and really question if I want him to be the father of my children, the one I sleep next to at night, the one I make love with, look across the table when we're eating, grow old with, etc and it scares me crazy because whether I like it or not, I will have to make that decision and say 'yes, I will marry you' and 'I do'. this is some real scary stuff.

Then I went on Myne Whitman's blog to read whatever new stuff she's written and I came across the StoryCorps video and came across a real love story. I sat and wept like a child for some good minutes. I normally don't cry, but I did because I wondered if anyone would feel the same or something akin to the love between Danny and Annie, I wondered if I would be able to handle such a love and not feel overwhelmed or unworthy of such love. Then I calmed down.

Now, I am a praying woman but I've had to ask God how to pray for my partner, how to know he's the one that will be my shelter in life's storms, the one I can look at thirty years in and say without a doubt that given the chance I would do it earlier and again. I have asked God, I can't say I've gotten an answer yet but I'll keep looking to the skies, waiting for my answer. However, I've come to find out that it is true what the sages say; that love comes to you when you least expect it, when you're not looking, it tiptoes on you and taps you on the shoulder. Crazy thing but yes it is so true.

Please enjoy this video of Danny and Annie and may you find love that stays through the ages, a heart that holds you tight and calls you precious, arms that assure you that their main purpose from that moment on is to hold you, protect you and love you endlessly through time. God bless and take care.