A Million Little Miracles

Those days of trying not to remember, of trying to forget and block out memories of pain, treachery, loss and the hardest things you had to deal with. Memories that tug at your heart, moments when faith fled in the face of repeated failures and incertitude got the better of you reminding you that the vanquisher can sometimes become the vanquished. 

Those days, a reminder that even tough souls can feel diminutive and puny when confronted with the reality of hope deferred, of promises broken, of powerlessness in the face of danger, of love lost. Memories that are a mocking, almost jarring reminder of your humanness, that just like everyone else, you are not immune to the rocks life throws causing even warriors to stumble, to fall. 

Those days characterized by chills from icy rains, when the sun became an alien element and the stars all but disappeared leaving vestiges, prints from a seeming distant past – a past filled with warmth, and laughter and light. 

Those days, don’t you see now how they toughened your now valourous soul? Don’t you see how like an eagle they came to teach you discomfort with the mundane, the mediocre, the ordinary? Don’t you see how when you seat with kings you too speak with wisdom having experienced firsthand the pain of loss and the joy of victory? Don’t you see the sagacity you now possess that has made your mind a rich repository of insight gained from falling and rising? 

Those days, don’t you see how they have transcended the realm of reality to become just memories? Don’t you see how you now dance with intent knowing that any kind of dance is better than no dancing at all? Don’t you see how when you laugh it is hearty and without restraints? 

Those days, the pain, hurt, agony, struggles and losses have now deadened fear because in retrospect, they really were tiny little cells that now make up the whole that you have become. 

The rain stopped, the fog disappeared, the sun rose, and every breaking of the dawn has become a reminder that much more than flesh, blood and bones, you are an enigma consisting a million little miracles.

A Victim Of Truth

The day your cousin Tanure was shot on campus, two things happened to you. You learned a hard lesson and also discovered your life’s purpose. You learned to never trust anyone and it was the hardest lesson of your life. A lesson that left more questions than answers. How could anyone be angry enough with Tanure to the extent of killing him? How could anyone even hate him? 

Tanure, your sweet, handsome and gentle cousin was one person whose integrity you could vouch for. But it wasn’t just you, everyone who crossed his path could have sworn that he was the epitome of a well brought up child who had grown into a responsible young man, the kind any parent would be proud of. You always joked that you would organize an audition to select a ‘befitting’ wife for him when it was time to get married. You knew it was funny and unnecessary because he didn’t even have a girlfriend, you had never known him with one, so whoever he eventually decided to get married to would be a ‘befitting’ girl he really loved.

Tanure had an answer for every question and gave a timeline to provide answers to the questions he didn’t have answers for. He would read up and provide the answers as promised - he read books like they were food and literally consumed any information material within sight. He neither smoked nor drank. He never made a promise he wouldn’t keep and never paid compliments unless he meant them. He periodically organized outreaches to give food to the less privileged within the community that hosted the campus. He was loved, admired and respected, the archetypal man of the people even at his young age.

So when news about his death being a retaliatory act by a rival cult group began to spread, everyone was taken aback. It had to be a lie. Everyone swore that investigations would help ascertain the truth but investigations proved that Tanure was not just a cultist but the head of his cult group. He was called the Capone. 

The truth was a pill too bitter to swallow. How could your favourite cousin and best friend be a cultist yet you didn’t know? When did he attend meetings? He was available almost anytime you wanted to see him. How could someone as gentle and well informed as him be involved in cultism? He was neither insecure nor one to prove a point to people. 

You cried so much at the realization that you never really knew him & you felt betrayed. You wished you could talk to him one more time so you could ask ‘why’. You knew you would never trust anyone again, you had become a victim of the truth that anyone is capable of anything.

Tanure was in his 3rd year as an Accounting student while you were in your 2nd year as a Law student when he was killed.

It was a tough time on campus as killings became a regular occurrence. Shortly after Tanure’s death, a series of coordinated killings followed. The head of one of the boys killed was even hung on a pole within the campus, students and lecturers woke up in the morning to see the gory sight. The Vice Chancellor announced that academic activities would be suspended for a while and students were asked to go home till it was deemed safe enough to resume.

After Tanure’s death and burial, you decided that you would dedicate your life to educating young people about the dangers of cultism, to reduce the burden as much as possible. So upon graduation, you abandoned your Law degree and started a ‘Cut Cultism (CSquared)’ campaign. You organized outreaches in primary and secondary schools to educate and dissuade young boys and girls from joining cults. You organized events, planned youth camps and trips geared towards exposing young people to better. You sought mentors and coaches for them and also supported them with finances to learn valuable skills. You gave your time, energy and resources to ensuring young people didn’t tow Tanure’s path. You would save as much as possible. This was your purpose. 

So when 5 years later you met Gerald at the launch of your foundation, you were excited to know he shared your vision. He had sought you out for partnership with his organization focused on the reformation of ex-cultists. He also partnered security agencies to provide support and protection to those who wanted out but were scared of the repercussions of denouncing cultism. He shared his testimonies noting that the reformed cultists could serve as mentors for the youngsters you worked with by sharing their experiences, and guiding them against pitfalls. You liked the idea and told him you would think about it. He asked to continue the conversation over drinks and dinner another time, and you said yes to what would be your first date in 2 years. That first date led to many more and your friendship blossomed alongside the partnership. 

Gerald was like Tanure in many ways. Calm yet firm, a voracious reader, an introvert yet influential with people, a man who kept his word. He had also attended your school and when you shared Tanure’s story, he said he recalled the period of cult rivalry and killings as he was in his final year and had his graduation delayed because of the temporary suspension of academic activities.

You liked him and decided that you would say yes if he asked for a romantic relationship. 

The day he did, he simply paused the video game of FIFA you both were playing, months after your first encounter, called your name and said “I love you.” He paused as though to let his declaration sink in and continued. “I like your zeal, drive, passion and commitment. I admire your discipline and fortitude. I am fascinated by the fact that you can be serious yet sexy, feisty yet sultry. I like the fact that I can let down my guard with you and trust that I am safe. I love you and would be honoured to be your man.”

You were taken aback because it was unexpected but you smiled because he had proven again that he was not one to mince words about his purpose and intentions. You said “Yes”, and as you looked in his eyes, for the first time in years you decided that you had found a man you could trust. That evening, you shared a glass of Champagne and sealed your new union with a kiss.

Gerald was a good man and an even better lover. You wore his love well, you wore it with pride. He was yours. This man whose presence made everyone else comfortable, who worked hard and played hard. He wasn’t perfect but he was enough, enough to make you feel like you won a prize you could never have earned. You were in love and for the first time, marriage became something to look forward to.

The day everything changed you learned two lessons. You learned that forgiveness is easier preached than practiced and that love is never enough. 

It was the day after Gerald asked you to marry him. You said yes and the next day he asked his Chef to take the evening off. He wanted to cook for you personally, a celebratory dinner he called it. You smiled as you watched him chop the vegetables he was to cook with. As you conversed he sought to know if you had any concerns or questions you wanted him to answer. 

“What is the worst thing you have done? What have you not shared with me?” You sat down as you asked, a glass of wine in hand.

He responded that it was a question he did not expect and one he would rather not answer as he didn’t want to tell a lie. But you pressed and  after a while, he gave in.

“I was the leader of the cult group that carried out the coordinated killings on campus in my final year. I gave the orders and supervised all the killings.”

He finished and waited for you to respond but you said nothing. You studied him, his beautiful face and well manicured hands holding the knife and for the first time you felt fear in his presence.

You muttered “Tanure” and he nodded.

Your Gerald, this disciplined, intelligent and refined man whom you had agreed to marry, was the same brutish boy that ordered the death of your favourite cousin and others, and even master minded the hanging of a human head on a pole for all to see. 

You tried to get up but your legs felt heavy, as though they were no longer yours.

He stood still watching you and you heard him saying something about his past activities being the motivation for his work with ex-cultists but you were not even listening. 

Tears trickled down your face, and he moved quickly to hold you but you shrugged him off. Minutes ago, he was perfect but the truth he shared made him seem like a monster.

You know that he loves you genuinely and is no longer the person who committed those atrocities but none of that matter as your only thoughts are about how to cleanse your body of his every touch and erase every memory of him from your head. You admit that you have once again become a victim of the truth.

Warri: A Town of Diminished Glory And A Story Yet To Be Written

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

Dilapidated and washed out buildings adorned the roads lined with dirt like confetti on an aisle. Tri-cycle operators jostled for space with car owners who were maneuvering through the roads that were fast wearing out from an apparent lack of maintenance. The market we were driving past had spilled onto the road as traders hawked their wares on makeshift sheds and tables that they placed by the side of the roads hindering the free flow of traffic. 

As we progressed, I stared in wonder, all the while thinking how this town that seemed to be deteriorating by the day no longer felt like home to me. The air of gloominess was palpable and seemed to reflect through the lines of worry etched on the faces of residents who seemed to have nothing but complaints when they spoke. 

“Things tough o” had become like a mantra on the tongue of most people and I had to make a note about protecting my mental space by building walls of faith to keep out pessimism. Reality however made it seem like a Herculean task. 

Is it the aftermath of the lockdown induced by the COVID-19 pandemic? Is it the sequel to the much touted recession declared by the Federal Government? Is it the effect of years of neglect and ineptitude on the part of local leaders? 

I sought answers but was jolted back to reality by the loud voices of two commuters who were now quarreling on the road. Apparently one vehicle had hit another, and as the owners stood assessing the damage caused by the impact of the collusion, curse words spoken in pidgin rented the air. Their vehicles had blocked the roads and I looked on in amazement, bewildered by the fact that they didn’t even bother to pull over to the side of the road in order to pay proper attention to their fight, and also gave no thought to other road users who were now stuck because the road had been blocked by the accidented vehicles. 

“It is a Nigerian thing”, I thought to myself and as I watched them yell at each other, I wanted to plead with them to stop because the accident only provided an outlet to vent and transfer aggression resulting from pent up frustration, and that recent national events would make any sane person stressed enough to snap at the slightest provocation. I wanted to tell them that it wasn’t their fault that roads were not constructed with growth and exponential population increase in mind and that expansion of the roads would have made commuting easy.

I wanted to tell them that the traders who had encroached into the roads with their goods were also part of the problem but I reminded myself that an effective Local Government and State Ministry of Environment would have put the traders in check. I also wanted to tell them that mentally sound adults do not resort to insults and exchange of blows in public when confronted with challenges when I heard a fellow onlooker scream “Warri nor dey carry last!” 

His excitement would have been noticeable even by a visually impaired person and as I shifted my gaze to him, I wondered if he knew that Warri deserved better than had been meted to it. I wondered if he knew that the state of neglect would take years to correct, years that could have been spent focusing on sustaining development and innovation. I wondered if he knew that he was a victim of a retinue of leaders that could have invested in education, healthcare and improved infrastructure like the overburdened road. I wondered if he would recognize better if it stared him in the face or if the deprivation that the city suffered had eroded the part of his mind built for that purpose. I wondered if somewhere in his heart he knew the truth but had bought into the lie “Warri nor dey carry last!” that had become a consolation for the mediocrity that pervaded the state of affairs in a town once touted as Nigeria’s ‘Oil city’. I wondered if he knew that Warri in its current state would not even hold a candle to the shadow of its former self. 

As I rummaged my mind for the right words to say, I noticed that the fighting duo had stopped and that vehicular movement had begun again but before I could heave a sigh of relief, I sighted another long line of vehicles ahead, another traffic had built up. It was evident that we would spend at least 30 minutes before we advanced from that spot. 

I scanned the environment and saw that there was no way out of the traffic, then I heaved my sigh but it was not one borne out of relief but pain for a town whose decline would be uninhibited if there is no intervention, a town that houses Nigeria’s second refinery but had now reportedly become a hub for a high number of internet fraudsters, majority of whom are in their teens and twenties.

I heaved my sigh for the town that was once amongst the cream of the crop of towns in the Niger-Delta but had now been set back by incessant communal clashes and poor leadership, a town whose residents seem to have lost the fight in them, but though its glory may seem to have diminished, Warri still holds hope of rising and its story rewritten.

P.S: I have enjoyed local delicacies like banga soup, owho soup, starch, kworka (corn moi moi), banga rice, tapioca and many others.

Above All Else, Let Him Be Kind

I recently watched clips of a video posted by a friend on her WhatsApp status. It was a speaker talking about the kinds of children there are and the kind to pray for. She stated that there are Male, Female and Kind children. As such having 10 children wouldn’t guarantee love, respect and affection especially in old age if the children are not kind. In the same vein, a person with one child may get so much attention and affection if that child is kind. 

She went on to talk about a woman who sold her property and jewelry to ensure her child schooled in one of the best universities in the world. He graduated, got a great job abroad, got married and forgot Mummy. He had not contacted his mother in about 4 years because his wife said his mother is a witch. If like me you grew up in Nigeria, then you would not be alien to stories like this. In the boy’s case, I dare say a witch who didn’t kill her son but went on to sacrifice for him to be successful is a good witch who deserves that boy’s affection and honour.

I pondered on the message long after I had watched the video and thought to myself that kindness - consideration, generosity and compassion is indeed underrated and so days later when I had a conversation with a friend who sought to know what I desired most in a spouse, I said I desire a man with a kind heart. I used to say respect was more important to me than affirmations of love but I am learning that while love and respect is good, love that goes with kindness is best.

I know the great Apostle Paul while writing about love, stated that “Love is kind” amongst many other virtues against which to measure love but I think it is easier to just quote than to practice what has been written.

I think also that love is like a vehicle with parts, as such it would be good to treat kindness as a part of love, extricate it and examine it independently to see how functional it is in the vehicle called love. This in my opinion would bring to the fore some inadequacies that we may not be aware of and may overlook.

I say this because we (me inclusive) majorly think of, describe & measure love against generalities like a partner’s ability to cause the butterflies in our tummy to flutter, turn heads when they walk into a room, fly across seas and oceans just to surprise us, give head spinning gifts, acquire more degrees than a thermometer and want us enough to commit to a lifetime union.

This reminds me of a story I read sometime this year about a groom that gifted his bride a plot of land on the moon, the land cost $45. I thought it was funny as I wondered who the realtor for the property is, how the land was surveyed, who issued the title deed, how she would go to inspect the property amongst other issues. I thought it was funny until I read that her friend had also asked her own Fiancé to get her a land on Moon too. 

For real? 

I laughed really hard and loudly too as I wondered how I would react if someone said they had gotten me land on the moon. Land that I cannot see or use? Thanks but I'll pass.

I know women say they want a man who would give them the moon but I didn’t think a man would take it, literally. Maybe women should stop using too many metaphors and just say what we mean, huh?

Anyway to my conversation, I think that it is not bad to seek the afore listed traits in a partner but rarely do we ponder on what their reaction would be if for example you have a surgery that makes it impossible to engage in sexual intercourse for 12 months or more - God forbid bad thing, it’s not your portion abi? What if it happens? How would he or she react? 

Or if you lose a limb or more, or suffer a burn that makes your face unrecognizable or never achieve the dreams and goals you talk about everyday while they stare in pride and awe, those dreams that made them leave their ex because you fit what the book they read described. What if life makes you a shadow of yourself? 

Is it not a kind heart that would see your soul instead and chose you even when you wouldn’t choose yourself? Is it not a kind heart that would look at you all cranky and teary eyed from sleepless nights spent nursing your new born and just hold you as you cry? Is it not a kind heart that would not jeer when your erection is not as turgid as when you were in your teens, 20s and 30s but lovingly wait till you get it up or not? Is it not a kind heart that would look at your flaccid boobs and saggy tummy and remember that you traded your firmness for the children that now mean the world to you? Is not a kind heart that would seek ways to lighten the other's burden and not let them bear their load alone?

Is it not a kind heart that would speak softly when you lose your money in the business they warned you not to invest in because it seemed shady? Is it not a kind heart that would wait patiently as they watch you wallow in pain and grief at the loss of a loved one so much that you lose interest in life itself? Is it not a kind heart that would on the days when you look at the grey haired person with a wrinkled face in the mirror wondering where your youth has gone, hold you firmly and say they would still chose you if life was theirs to do again? Is it not a kind heart that would focus on the similarities in the face of overwhelming differences? 

Isn’t kindness what Jesus commanded when he said to do unto others as we want others to do unto us? Isn’t kindness the milk that nourishes love? Isn’t it the veil and drape with which love covers a multitude of sins? Isn't it the bedrock upon which responsibility and accountability lies? Isn’t it therefore the crucial thing to seek as we sift through the love professed by our beloved?

Are my thoughts too simplistic and idealistic?

Like the speaker in the video on my friend's WhatsApp status said, is it not a kind child who would inconvenience himself to care for a parent in old age, knowing that even wealth amassed has its limits where care is needed? Is it not a kind hearted partner that would in turn demonstrate and pass on the traits that make a kind child?

Does it not make sense then that while good looks, wealth, status and influence is worthy of being coveted and even necessary, Okiemute believes that above all else, a spouse with a kind heart is better?

I Know You Cannot Wait For 2020 To End, But...

 “I can’t wait for 2020 to end”. Like me, you have probably heard this from people and might even have thought so yourself. My response each time I am greeted with that statement is “what guarantees do you have that 2021 would be a better year?” 

The truth though is I do not blame anyone who wants this year to end, because 2020 has indeed been exhausting - mentally, physically, psychologically, socially, economically and dare I say, even spiritually. Our faith has been tested and tried. The very core of our existence as humans - the desire to relate and socialize was inhibited by the COVID-19 pandemic which took its toll on ‘everything’ and now nothing is as we knew it or would like it to be.

2020, what a year!

As challenging as these times are though, it is a great time to be alive. It is a time of unprecedented technological, scientific, medical and even economic advancement as more young people are hitting the million dollar mark like never before but it is also a time of intense pressure as one cannot be seen to be failing in the midst of seeming global ‘opportunities’ for growth.

It is a time when we can shop without moving from our bedroom, influence government policies through social media, meet for hours with people in different continents from the comfort of our homes, clamour for our right to be anything we feel like (whether it makes sense to anyone or not), change our physical features to fit society’s standard of beauty/social acceptance and even change our gender from the one ‘assigned’ to us at birth.

We can literally be anything we want today. Isn’t it an interesting time to be alive!

A time when we have an abundance of digital content (movies, music, podcasts, comedy, memes), more entertainment than we can consume in our lifetime, educational materials to advance our lives/careers, and friends/followers who ‘like’ our pictures online and ‘follow’ us faithfully yet know nothing about our reality.

Still, it is the time when suicide is at its peak and drug use is on a steady rise. We are so close today that we can talk via video calls for hours, yet farther from each other so much so that a person whose video made you laugh out loud yesterday may turn up dead from suicide today and you wonder “Why? But he seemed so full of life and had everything most people desire”.

These are interesting times but the truth I have learned is that it is harder for people today especially young people than we would like to admit.

There is pressure to fit in, to be seen and accepted, to carve a niche, to replicate the lives of those we admire, to be heard, to be given a chance to prove ourselves, to not fail, and to just be sane amidst everything happening.

Our brains are constantly fighting to be safe because that is the only way our minds can be happy.

The drive to risk our lives in search of greener pastures, experiment with drugs, get and stay in relationships against our better judgement, and pull other stunts are all coping mechanisms.

It is our brain’s search for happy hormones like serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin and endorphins that make it feel safe and in turn interpret happiness to our minds. This search will make us go to any length and adopt habits that may be harmful in the long term but in the moment give us peace, albeit short lived. It is a battle most of us are fighting, especially young people and to win the war we need to be compassionate to ourselves and to others.

We need to be intentional in our relationships, ask ‘how are you?’ not as an act of courtesy but of care, listen more to people, support in the way we can and just be there.

2020 has been an exhausting year and for most young people the present is grim and the future seems bleak.

Most people appear fine but underneath their smile is a cry for help, a desire to just be seen, heard and understood. As such, we need compassion, empathy and sensitivity. We need kindness, patience, and clarity of mind that helps us admit that it is okay to not have it all figured out.

We need to find value and measure our worth against enduring and non-ephemeral entities like family (our kith and kin), friendships, genuine laughter, helping and serving others.

2020 is still here and while you probably are counting the days till it ends, may it not break our hearts any further, may it end better than anticipated and usher us into a more pleasant 2021.

More importantly though may we find faith, hope and love that keeps our hearts steady, strength to plan and prepare for change, grit to see that our goals are achieved and an unfailing faith in a God who never changes and stays when everyone else walks away.

P.S: Your biggest win this year is that you are alive today. So congratulations and more life to you in 2021!

Osarugue: The Bini Girl That Defies The Narrative

Edo/Bini girls are vindictive, quarrelsome, fetish and plain evil so much that offending one of them is like signing your death warrant, serious wahala! You have probably heard or read this narrative sold of girls from Edo state and each time I see this I react - every single time. I scoff, shake my head and speak up to say it’s dubious and untrue.

The authors of that narrative may be speaking from their experience and it may be unfair to fault them but there is always the one percent of every demography. The group that do not fit the narrative, they are a different breed and would make nonsense of your theory and each time I read those tales, I always think to myself “have they met all Bini girls? Have they met my Osarugue?”

My Osarugue is of that one percent of the one percent, of a different breed, not your regular.

She not only defies the narrative sold of Edo girls but of the generality of women. 

Dear Osarugue,

In a world where people change like seasons, you have been a steady one & not even distance has changed us. You have been a real one, firm as a rock, unflinching in your loyalty and commitment, and choosing us even when it gets hard. 

It’s been said that women cannot stay together without having a fight and falling apart but when we did, you managed to hold it all together even when I seemed to be losing it. We have prayed together consistently, weekly for years against the odd of distance and time difference and I thank you for your consistency and support even through tough times.

 

I never saw the need for the National Youth Service Corps scheme and half-heartedly went to the orientation camp but it was in that camp at Kaiama, Bayelsa state that I found the gift of you. You came to my aid then and I thank you for being here for me over a decade after. I thank God for the privilege of having you as my friend, Sister, prayer partner and burden bearer. Thank you for making me laugh on difficult days, thank you for checking on me till I am okay.

You will live to fulfill God’s dream for you and nothing will cut short your life. I wish you grace to stand firm through life’s seasons and love through the journey.

Uncle Nosa is blessed to have you as his wife, most privileged to be loved by you, and your sons are favoured to have you as their mother.

Happy birthday my loyal, honest, passionate, strong, industrious and funny friend, we will celebrate many more years together.

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me, maybe I'm amazed by you but I do love you with my heart Babe and I am counting the days till we see. God bless you beautiful one, the Bini girl that defies the narrative.

Love,

Okiemute.

Like Purple, Be Regal, Authentic and Unforgettable

Your sincerity, your genuineness, your passion, be known for these things. Be the one who takes on a task, does it with heart and finishes it excellently such that long after you are gone, even the critics will say “she/he was one of a kind”. 

Be known for your ability to represent people well, so that if they have to trust you with a venture they know you wouldn’t embarrass them by looking shabby, showing up late, getting drunk, rambling or getting into a fight.

Be known for the value you bring to friendships and relationships, that thing which makes you desirable in a way that beats onlookers because they would never understand why people still choose you despite your flaws.

Be known for your attitude and unbreakable spirit, your fortitude and the ability to press on even in the face of seeming defeat and unimaginable pain.

Be known as the one who gives all or nothing at all. Who wouldn’t say “I love you” unless you mean it and would keep your word and so you wouldn’t make a promise you wouldn’t keep.

Be known as the one who has a different spirit and though imperfect is unpretentious and reliable. The one who wouldn’t steal or tell a lie just to get ahead or curry favour.

Be known for your compassion, the one who makes life a little less harder for the people you meet and would rather keep shut than say words that hurts your neighbour.

Be open to new ideas - the bizarre, the odd, the unimaginable and even the seemingly abominable. Listen to them to help you make up your mind and maybe see things from the other person’s point of view.

Be open to new beginnings, opportunities to do and become better. Be open to new people and opportunities to start a new chapter and rewrite your story.

Take all that life has to offer, the sun and the sights and the music and the laughter. Go out into the world, see more with your eyes than from your phone or TV screen. Get the experience and share it, your experiences and your story.

Be like the colour purple, dark because it is made of two unlikely colours yet regal, noble, royal, spiritual, majestic, stylish, brilliant, evocative, rich, authentic, attractive, beautiful and unforgettable.

Be open to people, be open to life and dare to sometimes put away logic and just go with your heart. Chase new horizons, seek adventure, dare to dream, read, dance with heart and sing to your soul's delight.

Like Bob Marley said, turn your lights down low, pull your window curtains and let God’s moon shine in cos it will bring with it goodness, love and opportunities you never thought possible.

The Most Dangerous Person In The World

 

Scene from the movie 'Project Power'

The first time I fell in love with Jamie Foxx's movies was in 2015. It was on the eve of the 2015 general elections in Nigeria and I had gone to spend the weekend at my cousin’s. While she went to bed, I stayed up to watch TV and from a DVD collection I selected ‘Django Unchained’ starring Jamie Foxx and Kerry Washington.

Django Unchained is the story of black slave, Django who risked his life to find his wife, Broomhilda who was also a slave and to buy her freedom. Django’s first task was to earn his freedom, this he did alongside the friendship of his ex-master, a white man unlike the rest in his day. They both set out to find Django’s Broomhilda not even knowing what city she was in or to whom she belonged.

It took a while, but Django eventually found his wife’s location. When he found her though, she wasn’t worth much as she had been abused, assaulted, raped and used. She was just an object to serve and pleasure whomever. She had so suffered that the thought of ever becoming free had become a dream too lofty to aspire to and the first time Django revealed himself to her, it was so surreal that she fainted. Anyway, Django negotiated, fought, lost, was beaten to pulp and sold again into slavery but he fought again, managed to escape and went back for his wife. By the time he was taking his Broomhilda home, he had burned down everything and everyone. The movie had me crying at intervals as I watched him train, prepare and dive head-on into danger. He could have had any other, could have started on a clean slate but he didn’t, his only motivation was love. *sniffs as she wipes tears again*

Fast forward to 5 years after (which was yesterday), I decided that I would see at least 2 movies this weekend and while searching for what to watch, I saw the movie title ‘Project Power’. I scanned past but my brain told my mind it cited Jamie Foxx on the poster, so I went back and there he was, flanked by others. I didn’t bother about the others on the poster, seeing Jamie was all the conviction I needed.

I got the movie, and just as I expected, it was totally worth it. Jamie came with his passion and this time he was driven by love for his daughter who had been kidnapped. I wouldn’t bore you with details of the movie but would gladly recommend it – it would be worth your time.

Jamie’s character had been dubbed the most dangerous man in the city and as I watched him go all out, against the system, I had to agree that he was a danger to himself and everyone else but his daughter.

This however is the case with anyone motivated by love as they lose sight of pride and even their safety because nothing else matters but the object of their affection. Whether it is the footballer who gives his all on the field, a businessman, inventor, chief executive, actor, parent, pastor, lover or student, love is the driving force of any success achieved. It is the reason you stay up when you should be in bed, stay in when you could be out, go out when you could have stayed in, give when you may not even have enough for yourself, try one more time when your body is tired, apologize when you are not even sure what you did wrong, and stay the course when you really want to give up. It is good old love making us surprise ourselves and everyone else till they have no choice but to applaud when our results speak.

Love, the force so powerful that it defies social, cultural, ethnic, religious, racial, psychological, philosophical, or biological barriers. It can turn a weakling to a warrior and have made warriors seem like weaklings. It protects, defends, and shields the object of its affection, sometimes blindly. In fact, anyone is normal until we fall in love with them, then they become perfect. If you doubt me ask a parent, or lover of an idea, movement, or person.

Love is so powerful that if not managed can become a danger, and this has been proven time and again by men who have sacrificed all and rejected even their families in pursuit of the thing or person they love. It is a heart thing and can never make sense from the point of logic, even science still cannot fully explain it.

Watching Jamie’s character in ‘Project Power’ not only made me cry but reinforced a belief I already had, which is that if you really want to see how dangerous a person can be, then go after the thing or person they love. Then you would realize that the most dangerous person in the world is not the one who is hungry or power drunk, but the one in love with a thing, ideology, system, or person – even if they are wrong.

I have wiped the tears from my eyes but as I end this, I hope that you do not settle for the thing or person you can live with, but find the courage to wait for and chase the thing or person you cannot live without.

Sunset: A Perfect Time To Kiss, Dance Or Say Goodbye

Sunsets,
We see them everyday and sometimes exercise the liberty of watching them or taking pictures of them, creating memories by ourselves or with those we love.
They are a reminder of the cycle called life, that every beginning has an end. They are one of the few things we are sure of, that for everyday that dawns, the sun will set - it's a constant.

Sunsets,
They are also proof of life's impermanence, that nothing really lasts forever - not things or men, including the ones we love and adore.
Like the curtains drawn at the end of a play or dance, they signal the end of a day, a performance, an era, a life.

Sunsets,

They can be beautiful but just like life, they are transient, lasting only a while, leaving us nothing but memories.
Memories that may last a lifetime, evoking feelings of moments passed, never to be seen or experienced and lived again.

Sunsets,
For some people, it is the perfect time to dance, share a kiss or simply sit still to enjoy the silence of a world falling asleep.
For others, they are a time to reflect and look back on the events of the day and more often than not, the events of a life that has reached its end, a soul saying goodbye as it bows out of the dance called life.

If the sun has set for your loved one, then this is for you and while I may not understand what you feel, I am sure the pain of your loss is real, raw and maybe even scary.
It may be a dreary season for you and your family but I hope that someday your heart mends, maybe not in the way it was before the pain but in a way that makes it stronger than pain.

I pray that you have enough hands to hold you through this phase, shoulders to lean on and memories of a life well lived to make you smile and laugh again.
I pray that you find the courage to face the days ahead and that you awake one morning to find one last tear.

I pray that you find grace and the comfort of the sweet Holy Spirit to bear this burden that must befall all.
I pray that the void created be filled, that you heal and that the you rise on the wings of the morning to days filled with sunshine, hearty smiles, laughter, love and music powerful enough to make you sway to life's rhythm again.

I pray.

N.B: I wrote this piece for a friend who lost a loved one weeks ago but I edited it and hope it speaks to your heart.

Courting Pain, The Kind Nobody Talks About

 

For the first time in a long while, he kissed your forehead and held you for longer than he has in months, but you know it is more out of habit than intention. He also fed you some of his plantain pottage at breakfast, but you know it was because he could not eat. Feeding you was a way of distracting you both from his inability to eat.

You wanted to talk about it, but you kept shut, like you have about many things recently.

Like his leaving books strewn all over the place, falling asleep fully clothed while watching TV, walking around as though searching for something, just staring blankly into space, mumbling to himself, not hearing when you talk to him, and the weight loss that has become so noticeable.

His eyes too seemed to have sunk into their sockets and had a soulless look. He had become a shadow of himself. His smile when he managed one was wry, his laughter mirthless, his gait languid, his speech slow and his eyes had a look that sometimes seemed like fear.

At first you thought it was a phase that would pass but weeks were turning to months and he seemed to be getting worse.You have tried massages and foot rubs, smothered him with kisses and left notes where he could read them, but none worked. You made a playlist of his favourite slow rock songs and even invited friends over, but he seemed to be getting distant with each gesture.

You kept hope that he would come around, but fear set in the day he dropped the glass in his hand spilling his drink as you were both laughing. He apologized and made to pick up the pieces and as he did, the broken fragments cut his hand. Though he bled, he didn't stop and even shoved you when you made to sweep the pieces. He evidently was not even feeling the pain and didn't mind that his blood flowed freely.

For the first time you were filled with fear as you realized you had been laughing with yourself all along, he was never present. That day it dawned on you that he was in deeper pain than you thought, one that was stronger than any physical hurt and the worst part was you not being able to do anything about it.

All you could do was watch while he dealt with his pain. 

The pain of losing his father was taking its toll on your husband in a way you never envisaged. He is the strongest man you know but losing his hero has borne a side to him you never knew existed. He has lost the spring in his steps, his back slouched when he sat, his voice guttural, his eyes had a longing, he seemed to be crying for help and for the first time you realized your love wouldn't be enough to pull him through.

You have both weathered storms together but this time, he was alone in the storm and try as you might, he wouldn't let you in. This pain was personal and even you would not be allowed in.

To watch a loved one in pain and to be unable to help them is a kind of pain people never really talk or write about. They tell you to support them by being there for them but do not tell you what to do when they shut you out, when they hold you without really feeling you, when they look at you but do not see you. You are learning that sometimes pain comes in unexpected forms and that it can be acquired, the result of another's pain.

Through this phase, you remember the words of Bishop T.D. Jakes in his book 'The Lady, Her Lover and Her Lord' and you learn a new kind of respect for grief. It is a feeling that cannot be explained away, rushed, or shrugged off. It demands to be felt and only time can sate it. You watch the love of your life deal with grief and tell yourself that the bishop was right when he said there are parts of a person, a void only their Lord can touch and fill.

As he kissed your forehead this morning, you accept that your touch wouldn't be enough. You are a lover, but a lover would never be able to do what His Lord can do.

So, you promise yourself that you would stop trying to be His Lord. You will turn off the music, put away the massage oils and scented candles, keep shut and ask God to help him go through the pain without losing himself. 

You will ask the lover of his soul to restore his soul and you will wait no matter how long it takes. You will keep praying for him, you will let your big boy cry, you will cry with him and you will wait on the sweet Holy Spirit to lead you both through the night to a brighter morning.

Today you will call on the one who made the heart that is broken because only He can heal it and you will step aside and watch from the side as His Lord takes over the dance.

You will wait till He brings both your hearts to a place of healing because when that happens, a newer, stronger love bond would have been awakened. It would be a rejuvenation, a revival, a renascence, a rebirth.

Now though, you let him hold you as his heart beats in rhythm with yours, the silence saying what no words can, his arms protective over you and knowing there is not much you can do to help, you let yourself feel the pain people seldom talk about. 

For The Boy Who Tried But Couldn't Stay

 

Like a Prince, he rode in, but not in the similitude of royals and princes.

His arrival though sudden, wasn’t greeted with pomp and pageantry.

It was quiet, hushed, muffled, and characterized by every trait that describes the word silent.

Yet it was filled with verve and gusto, marked with certitude and assuredness.

He made it clear that he had one purpose, one well-thought out and calculated mission.

To win your heart, to soften all the parts toughened and hardened by life – this was all he wanted.

Ici pour rester! This would have been the chant were it in the words of a French man.

His raison d’agir was you. It is what a thorough bred Spaniard would call ‘el premio’.

And he tried. Consistently, committedly, unashamedly he pressed and pumped.

Freely he gave of his time, holding nothing back in the contention for you, for your love.

His demeanour though calm, adopted a humourous face and softer exterior.

He stayed up till late, sharing stories, telling jokes your laughter his inspiration.

He pushed and pursued, chasing as he treaded a path he never had dared.

He didn’t sweep you off your feet, neither did he make your head spin or heart stop.

He simply made you feel secure and safe, fear seemed to evaporate upon every encounter with him.

Relinquishing the familiar, he pressed on in a previously uncharted territory.

He seemed scared but never unsure. Made little promises in simple words that connoted calm assurance.

He wasn’t thoroughly smooth even though you knew that wasn’t what he was trying to be.

Like Saul the persecutor, he was willing to take on a new name and identity.

Like Paul the Apostle, he pressed on towards the prize, a higher calling.

And while many had promised to take you to the world, he wanted to bring the world to you.

Through busy days and tight schedules, he pressed. Through tough conversations he plunged deeper.

The calls stayed consistent and the trips across the ocean only seemed to make it solid.

Then abruptly like an aircraft that developed mechanical faults mid-air, it nose-dived and crashed.

Just when you decided to participate fully in the play, and the drama seemed to be taking an intriguing turn, he drew the curtains on it.

Your heart was no longer the prize, his raison d’agir had changed unexpectedly and without warning signs.

It all began with a call and in the most dramatic fashion, ended with a call. It was a bow taken too soon.

Stricken and confused you sought answers. Why? What? When? Where? How? Haba!

Why had breathing become so difficult? What did you do or didn’t do? When did everything change?

Where did it all go? The love, the laughter, and the friendship? How did you not see it coming?

You wore the pain like a pair of heels that were too high and too tight, yet you walked on.

You forged and trudged on, hoping to find healing on the wings of the morning. The sun rose and set, and many moons passed. Slowly but surely, Winter, Autumn and Fall passed, then Summer came, leading you to Springtime.

Your breathing normalized, the questions stopped, the glow returned, and the world became alright again. The flowers had begun to bloom and so did your heart.

Through it all, you learned that the worse isn’t always what you think and that bad decisions can also come from good hearts.

This is the story of the boy who opened up a different world to you and even though he couldn’t stay, he did his best to make you fly without wings.

You Are The Gift, Always Will Be

Isn't it funny what we do with our goals?

We write about them, talk about them and resolve to never give up on them.

Yet, we treat the people in our lives differently.

We seldom write about them, rarely talk about them and are often quick to give up on them.

Isn't it funny the way we act with work?

We pray earnestly for the job we desire, study hard for it and when we get it, give it our best even on the days we feel low.

Yet, we act differently about our relationships.

We do not  intentionally pray for the kind of people we desire, we scarcely bother about studying to be good enough for them and even if they come our way, we almost never give our best on the days we feel low.

It is funny don't you think, our attitude to things?

We check out house after house till we find the neighbourhood and apartment that best suits our style, we seek expert opinion and read all the articles we can find before we purchase a car and when we go to shop for clothes the hours seem to fly past as we search stores and try outfits for the perfect fit.

Yet, we rarely take time to scrutinize folks before we let them in, we easily get carried away by physical attributes instead of the values that drive the people we meet, and when it's time to choose we barely give consideration to men with principles and values, of great sagacity.

Isn't it funny how each one of us is guilty?

We have billions appropriated to constructing bridges, pay millions for a good education and expend energy and time on research and development.

Yet, we are quick to burn bridges with the people in our lives, wouldn't pay the price to know them or earn their trust and wouldn't intentionally invest time, energy and resources to solidify and reinvent our relationships with men.

It is funny when you consider what fun and enjoyment means to us.

We plan for vacations, entertainment, exotic food and the best life has to offer.

Yet in reality, vacations, entertainment, food and life's beauty would be meaningless if there are no people to share these moments with.

Isnt it funny how we spend our lives trying to make a mark in jobs and businesses that also depend on people to survive and would demand a replacement the day we can no longer give our best?

Yet, we fail to invest in creating memories with the people in our lives, the very ones who would stop to care for us and pause to grieve should the unimaginable happen. We seldom give thought to how best to leave imprints in their hearts.

Isn't it funny how we easily think of wealth in terms of things, acquisitions and possessions?

Yet the truly priceless gifts are the men and women in our lives. The ordinary, regular people who bring sunshine and can also cause us pain. 

They are the only ones who can make routine acts like dancing, dining, playing, laughing, reading and even working meaningful. The ones capable of turning ordinary mornings and nights to remarkable and unforgettable memories, giving us moments to look forward to.

Isn't it funny how I sometimes take you, the most excellent of all God's creation for granted when you are the reason for the colours in my rainbow, spring in my steps, stars in my sky, melody to my song and even the hope in my heart?

You are 'the Gift', always have been, always will be.

Can You Go A Little Deeper, Darling?

Scene from the movie Southside With You

I love to talk about sunset and sunrise, flowers,songs and books and to share mutual jokes.

I love to hear about breakfast, lunch and dinner time, the songs on the playlist you created specially for us, and all the funny things you heard, read or saw and thought to share with me. I love to laugh loudly with you about the mundane, sublunary and not so serious things. 

But,

Can we go beyond talking about favourite colours, food, cultures, movies and books to why?

Like why do I like Brown even if it is sombre and thought to evoke feelings of dreariness? Or why do I watch a movie over and over again even if it is over a decade old and wasn't even a Box Office hit? Could it be because the characters' experiences resonate with me? Is it because I laugh when they laugh, cry when they do and have lived the story they tell?

Can you go deeper? Can our conversations transcend the realm of the ephemeral to the sublime?

Can we have difficult conversations like the thoughts you entertain, the obscene fantasies you may have sometimes? Those ones you would be too embarrassed to share with anyone else because it may make them see you differently or even lose  respect for you? Can you tell me of your deepest pain, your eternal regret, your biggest fear and ultimate hope? What are the things that can set you on fire? Do you scamper and run in the face of pain?

Can you undress for me, stripping completely till you are naked, clothed with nothing but your truths, scars and the wounds that are yet to heal?

Would you take off the bejeweled watch, the bespoke shirt designed with none other but you in mind, the calf-skin belt with your initials monogrammed on the buckle, those trousers built both for style and functionality, that shell cordovan shoes that speak louder than words and your perfume that in itself tells a story?

Can you go deeper than sweet words and sugar coated messages? 

Can you tell me about the time you acted out of character in anger and did things that surprised even you? Can you tell of those deeds that may make any mortal consider you a monster?

Would you share the struggles you have fought for decades and still haven't overcome? Would you share the habits you fear you may never drop, not even for love? Would you tell me the story of your pain - raw and undiluted? 

Can I go deeper, just a little bit just so you see if I'd still be here? 

Are there ghosts from the past lurking somewhere underneath your charm and calm demeanour? Would I find coffins filled with decaying corpses and skeletons from years past? 

More importantly, 

Can you go deeper with me? Can you ask me of my worst experiences, the ones I wouldn't even share when I am asked of my worst experience? Can you ask about my biggest pain and struggles, the cruel hands I have been dealt by life? Can I tell you the stories of hurt, betrayal and how it has shaped me? Can I share my deepest secrets, those I dare not even whisper to myself for fear of the walls eaves dropping?

Beyond hickeys, soft strokes and nibbles, would you hit me hard with verity and the gospel of your life?

Would you give me a chance to practice unconditional love? To show that I meant every word when I said I would always care?

I may be asking for too much but would you dig or delve in a little deeper darling, please?