The One Minute Man

One minute man.

You have probably heard or even used the phrase. It is used to describe a man who ejaculates too quickly during sex. 

It is a tag that says a man is incapable of satisfying his partner sexually. A tag capable of deflating a man's ego. A tag that in some quarters, puts a question mark on his 'masculinity'. It is a tag that no man wants, especially because it implies the risk of losing his partner. 

One minute man.

This phrase has birthed a very lucrative industry - that of sex enhancement products (pills, potions, tablets, toys etal). Products that promise miracles and wonders - in the other room.

Honestly, there's hardly ever a day that I do not stumble on an advert of a product - online and on the streets, that promises to make men last longer in bed. Sometimes the overall appearance of the people advertising these drugs on the streets make me fear for the man that is willing to risk trying their *concoction*. And if it does work, there's fear for the woman on whom the experiment would be performed. Sis, you are in for a looooooonnnnnng thing!

The one minute man tag is a weapon for some women. They brandish it during fights as if to say, one wrong move and I'll tell the world who you really are. This weapon is powerful enough to make even a Type A man hide the proverbial 'tail between his legs.' Because then the 'tail' would be what it is - just a tail, not good enough to deliver the expected. And if any such revelation is made public, he becomes just the 'one minute man', the one who talks a big game - his achievements and persona diminishes in the face of that tag.

I have realized though that this tag no one wants, is the tag we would all have to bear someday. We - men and women.

I say this because of an experience I had about a week ago, and it has nothing to do with sex.

It was an event that had major players in the health sector, Governors, an ex-Head of State, traditional rulers and other dignitaries in attendance.

During the course of the event, one of the speakers announced the death of a Doctor. The late Doctor was a Professor of Medicine who rose to become the Chief Medical Director of a tertiary health institution. He was the archetypal man who came, saw and conquered. He had passed on, in the early hours of that day.

As his death was announced, I heard gasps, sighs and exclamations in the hall. He was apparently deeply loved and admired or at least, was well known within the sphere of medicine.

The speaker spoke glowingly about him, and afterwards urged us all to observe a minute's silence in his honour. We all stood up and I began the count...1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.....before I got to 30, he wished the dead man's soul a peaceful rest. I had been counting in my head and didn't know when I voiced out my thoughts.

"It's not even 30 seconds yet." I said.

The person sitting next to me responded immediately with "So you were counting too? I just thought so myself."

As we sat down, we bantered about how the 'minute silence' observance never really lasts up to a minute.

Our conversation was interrupted by the speaker who had begun cracking a joke. Laughter erupted from the audience and as I looked around the hall, it seemed like a different crowd. Everyone was gay and excited. It didn't seem like the same people who were sober less than a minute ago.

The hitherto mournful crowd had moved on from the Professor of Medicine and his many achievements.

I thought about his family - wife (if he was married), children (if he had any), siblings (if he had any) and maybe close friends. Those ones would not move on after just a minute's silence. Some of them may never even get over his death but every one would eventually move on. They would all find a way to cope. And he would become a memory. 

On that day however, in that hall, he became the one minute man that didn't even get up to a minute.

And someday, we'd all be him. Someday, somewhere, someone would talk about us and ask a group to observe a minute's silence in our honour.

You may not get up to a minute, but even if you would, I pray the day doesn't come too soon for you. 

I pray that you do everything you planned to do before that day comes. 

I pray that there are people who would spend much more than a minute, maybe all of their lifetime remembering you.

So if today you are the man who doesn't last more than a minute in bed, don't kill yourself my brother. Sex isn't food and even if it was, man shall not live by bread alone.

If you are a one minute man, you might need to stress less, exercise more, drink less alcohol and more water, stop smoking & drug use if you do, eat more fruits and vegetables, take some time away from sex and when you do it again, spend more time on foreplay. Also stop thinking you wouldn't last long, because your mind is powerful. The experts say all these help - I am not an expert.

Whatever you do though, honour God with your body and time because while we are all prospective 'one minute men', he is infinite and EVERLASTING and it is to him we'll give the account of every 'one minute' spent on earth.

Extraordinary Love, The Antidote For Pain

Pain isn't prejudiced.

It is a visitor that comes to every home, to everyone regardless of gender, race, creed and orientation.

If you live long enough you would realize this is true.

Pain visits all and oftentimes come unannounced, when you are ill-prepared.

Pain is what it is, painful. Its only antidote is love.

Love extraordinary. The kind that keeps one safe in an unstable world.

That holds you when a loved one walks away, that you cry but do not die.

A love like God's - RECKLESS!

The kind that steadies my gaze so that I see beyond the present to the future.

Gracious enough to show me his plans in glimpses, faithful enough to deliver the promises he's made.

Moving me from the phase where he met me so that I can boldly say "I have experienced the fragrance of his presence, been enveloped in the perfume of his grace - a whiff of which leaves me intoxicated." 

"Been rocked in his arms, firm yet tender - protecting fiercely, guarding jealously, keeping me safe."

When all hell breaks loose, his is the voice that reminds me that he will perfect the good work he has begun, speaking words that are hidden in a space that cannot be hacked - my heart.

He has crushed me and the grape I once was is becoming wine - fine wine.

His is an extraordinary love - choosing me in all my forms. So even when I am unsure because I can't see myself and the gifts I am blessed with, he sends friends, encouragers, with whom I can be vulnerable.

His sweet Holy Spirit stays as a Comforter and Counsellor, never judging, ever present.

You God - the hand that guides me through the phase of pain to a place of healing.

It is to you I breathe, on you I call, for you I live, on you I wait. 

Like an expectant mother, waiting 9 months to hold her baby. Like a man standing outside the labour room, waiting for the news that says he is now a father. Like a farmer who's done all he should and now trusts the ground and time for his harvest. Like a groom at the altar watching his bride as she walks down the aisle, resplendent in white.

You God, in whom I find my worth and identity. The ONE who never leaves the one behind - you would leave the 99 to chase the 1, ME.

You whose words make a hundred billion failures disappear.

Pain isn't prejudiced. Its only antidote is a love like yours - a love that crushed me and changed me.

Chairman, This Is For You

It happened again today, like it does when I say I cannot buy something because I cannot afford it at that time.

I usually get a "call Chairman na, let him support" statement. This statement which I find idiotic, is usually accompanied with a wry smile.

'Chairman' here, is you. Everyone assumes that you can pay for anything and in fact are responsible for everything I have.

I do not blame them though, it is the prevalent  mentality in the environment we live in. A woman always has a man somewhere 'sponsoring' her.

Getting support isn't bad in itself but the truth is that, I wouldn't always let you do things for me and while it may get to you sometimes, with time you would understand that I like to take responsibility for me.

You would know too that it doesn't in anyway affect my loyalty to you neither does it reduce your masculinity.

It's just a matter of values for me - a sense of responsibility and respect for self.

You would learn all these with time just as you would know that my values begin with God, family and work - in that order. But I also can't imagine life without music, high heels, Akara, short dresses, wine and some other things that I can't write here. I'd have to whisper them to you.

Sometimes at events, I keep a straight face as though I'm deeply engrossed when in reality I don't even understand a single thing of what's happening.

Sometimes I smile and nod during conversations even when I do not understand a thing about what's being said.

You would also learn these with time.

Sometimes I think of all that God has done for me and I cry. So on the days I burst into tears while looking at you, don't be alarmed. It would be because I am wondering how I could have deserved you. I would be wondering how of everyone else, it is I who can get away with anything. I would be overwhelmed by the fact that I can kiss you anywhere, anytime...just because I can. Say what?

You would also learn that I am not a girl that likes Pink. I do not like animation films. I do not like reading messages written with abbreviated words. I have a challenge remembering roads, so you may find yourself checking up on me when I go to places just so I don't get lost even though I have visited those places ten times - Google Maps helps a lot now though. But I like long drives and cake and chocolates and rice and wine - ok, I already mentioned that.

You would realize with time that one of my weaknesses would be my inability to hide anything from you - even the most embarrassing stuff and also, my inability to stay mad at you for long. No matter how angry I am, one look at you would melt my heart, though I might still refuse to talk to you.

There are days you would look at me and thank God for the gift of me. And on other days, you'd ask yourself why you still put up with me but on those days you'd have to remember that when we choose to love people, we give them permission to hurt us. It's up to us to decide who's worth it - I hope I'd always be worth it, for you.

When people look at us, they may wonder, "how does she cope with him?" They wouldn't know you are my heart. How can I live without my heart?

And, in a world where there are blurred lines, I know you would still be a man who listens to the Holy Spirit.

In a world where normalcy is wearing a new face, I know you'd stay true to God's word.

I know you'd be a great worshipper and therefore a great lover because a man who can genuinely pour out his heart to God, declaring his worth and magnificence, is a man who would also pour from his heart to express his love for me, my worth to him.

I also know that I wouldn't have to bother about issues of respect and equity with you because you are refined. Yours is a refinement that comes not just from education and exposure but from the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. He guides you.

And having said my values begin with God, family and work, you needn't bother about where you fit in because "You are my family, coming only after God."

So Chairman, if you ever find yourself wondering who my favourite person is, you'd only need to look in the mirror.

There's so much more I want to say to you but I'll keep them till I see your face.

In the words of Michael Buble, "I promise you Kid that I'd give so much more than I get, I just haven't met you yet."

Forgetting June

I looked at the movie title again before deciding whether to trash the DVD. 

I was rummaging stuff I had not touched in over a year. Movies, music albums, old journals, daily devotionals from years past all tied in a bag.

I tossed the things I didn't need and kept those I thought I would still need.

The movie 'FORGETTING JUNE' was one of them. It was given to me by an acquaintance years ago and I couldn't return it before relocating.

As I held the DVD I recalled the arguments I had with him and others about the story line which I didn't like.

The movie tells the story of a young happily married couple who were seriously in love. Suddenly the wife gets involved in a fatal accident - almost all the passengers were burnt alive - and the man thinks she is dead. He decides to date her best friend only for her to resurface after he impregnates and marries her best friend. Turned out she didn't die but was rescued by a good samaritan who nurses her to health and keeps her as his 'lover' because she lost her memory in the accident. She recovers her memory after a while and returns to her husband...yadayada *rolling my eyes*

Her name is June. When June returns, her husband had to choose between her and the best friend turned wife. Given the bond they shared as depicted before the accident, I thought he would pick his now resurrected wife in a heart beat but Oga chose the friend. Really? You choose a woman you knew yesterday over your wife whom by the way, you were head over heels in love with until you thought she had died?

I thought it didn't make sense but others said it is possible. Again, really? Is it that easy to just forget a person who gave us great memories? Moreso in this case where a false news of death separated them?

Personally, I have moved on from people without batting an eyelid or pausing for a moment to miss them. So I guess that makes me like June's husband right? Nah, I wasn't married to any of them.

I have learned though that we can easily forget some people even after spending years with them, but miss others whose skin we never touched and whose smell we do not know.

There are voices and laughter that will stay nestled in a tiny part of our brains. And when we least expect, we would hear them.

So maybe June's husband didn't forget her but his heart found a voice that spoke to it like no one else ever had. And so his soul chose that voice.

Maybe it's part of being human. Inability to let go of certain memories while easily flushing some down our mental sewage tank.

Maybe forgetting is an art that requires the right amount of time, practice, patience and love.

And maybe, June's husband would someday realize that he never really forgot her as a tiny part of him would see, feel and hear her in movies, songs, places and even in the arms of the one he finally chose.

I have trashed the DVD and now listening to Zayn Malik and Sia's 'Dusk till Dawn'.

C'est bien.

The Long Road Home

I recently stumbled on a book I read over a decade ago. I was probably about 13 or 14 years old when I read Danielle Steel's 'The Long Road Home'.

The book's main character Gabriella, suffered abuse as a child, abandonment, sexual assault and many more travails but she eventually found happiness and love - I know it's a cliched and predictable ending but I loved it.

Years later, I have read many other books but this still resonates with me.

As I saw it online days ago, I told myself the road home is indeed long and I had underestimated what that journey would require of me. I never envisaged the cost of finding my way home.

You are probably wondering if I never had a home but I'm not referring to the place where you were born and raised. Home here, isn't a physical space that is filled with just people who are your kith and kin. It's a place where your voice finds expression, faith trumps your fears and your heart is safe, protected. A place with people whose loyalty you wouldn't have to question, they are one less puzzle to solve.

The journey however should begin with our nuclear family as most people who end up wandering do so because, they are not welcome amongst their relatives, so even when they are home their minds are elsewhere. But, the home should be a safe space. The place where your eccentricity, weirdness, otherness and weakness are tolerated.

The book 'The Long Road Home' is summarised as a story of hope, courage and love and I have learned that no meaningful life can be made without these three. 

Without hope there would be no point in living, without courage we would never make any real progress and without love, we would be miserable creatures. 

I have learned also that hope and courage can be acquired and instilled as we go through life but with love it is different. It isn't just something you acquire.

Worse still, there's a void in us that only love can fill and until that void is filled, we would never really be home.

It is why some people work so hard that even the demons in them die, but the void is still there. 

I have met people who have had sex with people they can't even recall and they are courageous enough to admit that sometimes it's a result of loneliness. Knowing they are needed and irresistible in the moment makes them feel powerful even if temporarily. Some have given up on being truly loved and so they just have sex for the company.

What the world calls promiscuity is a coping mechanism.

Some people make more money than they can spend in their lifetime but still can't find a place to lay their head and feel peace.

We mask it with fame, drugs and accolades from people who would run if they knew the truth but what we really need is a safe space. Until that is found, we'd be always needing and seeking to fill the void in our hearts - with whomever, doing whatever.

I know this because I have been there too.

It reminds me of Samson whose story is told in the Bible, in the book of Judges.

Samson was strong, an undefeated champion who lost it all when he shared the secret of his strength with Delilah, the woman he loved.

A man who has many enemies knows he cannot trust just anybody so how did Samson become so vulnerable with a woman that he told her his deepest secret?

It is the simple fact that inspite of his strength, fame and influence, he too needed a safe space, a home.

The Bible says that when the Philistines came to capture Samson, he was asleep on Delilah's lap. 

For a man of Samson's ilk to let down his guard and lay on a woman's lap, that woman must have made him feel safe. Safe enough that he let her clean the wounds sustained in his battles. Safe enough to let her run his bath and scrub the dirt off his body after a long day of war. Safe enough to let her feed him as he regaled her with tales of his exploits. Safe enough to lay still as she massaged his temples, his feet and body, each moan and gasp revealing his weakness. Safe enough to lay on her laps as she stroked his hair, discovering the soft spots in his body, and smothering him with kisses until he falls asleep - like a baby. 

A man like Samson who gave nations sleepless nights, whom the nation Israel looked up to for deliverance would only become a baby in the arms of a woman he trusts absolutely, whose arms feel like home and in whose presence all his fears evaporate.

It is the prize he paid in the quest for home - a place where he wasn't a warrior or deliverer. A place where he was just a man.

The road home is indeed long and sometimes difficult.

Christ also epitomizes this difficulty when he told people to "go home" after he healed them. Like he did with the man possessed with so many demons that he cut himself and lived among tombs. 

The journey home is not easy and while some arrive early others do not because they have to first offload the baggage life burdens them with. Baggage of secrets, unhealthy habits, negative mentalities and bruises from words spoken by the ones they trusted.

I have learned though that it really does take hope, courage and love.

Hope that what lies ahead is better than the past, courage to forge a new path and love that must begin with you.

You must love yourself enough to go through the discipline of unlearning old ways of thinking, doing and being. Then, opening up to new information that recalibrates your mind such that you act differently and attract new people and experiences.

The road home is long and if like me you are still on the journey, I pray that you do not faint.

May the words of your mouth and the meditations of your heart be acceptable in God's sight.

May you stand blameless and faultless before him, assured that if you have him, your journey though tumultuous, will be safe.

May you find fellowship with his sweet Holy Spirit.

But first, get up from whatever you are entangled in and just GO HOME!

Beware of What You Become Else...

"I have given it serious thought and I want to go ahead. I just don't think I have the patience for a baby or a toddler."

I searched her face for a sign that said she was joking, but there was none.

I smiled because I didn't know what else to say and then quickly said "Good thing, you are open to adopting. There are kids who just need a good heart and home."

I studied her. A woman in her forties, beautiful and financially independent.

I wanted to ask if she had made enquiries on the process of adoption in Nigeria but I didn't.

I simply sighed and she shrugged as if to say "I wish I could turn back the hands of time."

I do not know her story but I had seen the look she had, on the faces of others before.

I have seen it on the face of the Executive advising me not to trade time for loved ones and family in pursuit of a career. 

I have seen it on the faces of men and women who are stuck in a marriage because they were too scared to walk out before they said "I do". 

I have seen it on the faces of men who say they lost a good woman because they didn't treat her well. I have seen it on the faces of women who say they lost a good man because they were impatient. 

I have heard it in the voices of people who wish they had acquired formal education when they had the opportunity. 

I have seen it in the eyes of those who wish they had been brave enough to pursue their dreams. 

I have heard it in the voices of those who say they have realized that they are no longer as young as they once were. 

I have heard it in the voices of people who wish they had said some things when they had the opportunity and those who wish they hadn't said some things to those they loved. 

I have seen it on the faces of people who carried out criminal acts out of anger or even envy. 

I know the look of regret and have seen it many times especially because as a Broadcast Journalist, I meet people who while sharing their stories, express deep regrets sometimes unintentionally. 

One thing they all seem to say is "life is transient, make the most of it while you can" and one reality they have to deal with is that they have missed their turn.

The underlying message with each expression of regret though is what Jim Rohn said "beware of what you become in pursuit of what you want."

There are sacrifices that are inevitable to achieve certain goals but we must be sure to prioritize.

Pursue a career, make money, get those degrees, own as many homes as you dream of, start that business, get into or leave that relationship, do whatever you have planned but be intentional enough to pause once in a while and pay attention to other things that matter like family, friends, children, the community of people around you and most importantly a relationship with Jesus Christ.

It's like the Bible says to us about "redeeming the time."

Be ambitious but don't overdo it because you may look back only to realize that it cost you too much and made you compromise your virtues and values.

The most devastating thing would be to see that you finally got everything you wanted but are unhappy.

 "Is this thing turning me into someone I am not?" "What am I becoming?" These are questions we must pause to answer once in a while.

So by all means dream big, aim high, aspire for more and pay the price required but BEWARE of what you BECOME in pursuit of what you want.

He Was Big and Tall and Dark and Happy

I recently received news that an Uncle of mine had died after an illness. He was 61 years old.

I screamed as my Mum told me, I could tell from her voice that she had been crying. They were quite close.

I comforted her and urged her not to dwell too much on his death but on the fact that he lived well. I reminded her also that it was enough reason to be grateful for her life.

I called several times afterwards just to urge her not to be afraid because I knew she would feel fear knowing that her once bubbly brother now laid cold and lifeless, gone forever.

As I went about my duties for the day, I kept thinking of him. I had not seen him in years but growing up, he was one of those people who seemed larger than life.

He was really tall, dark and big. All of my 5 feet and 4 inches frame reached up to his ribs when he held me.
He had a deep, rich voice and spoke rather loudly. He was boisterous but stern. He reprimanded without holding back and loved to drink but he was a hard worker.

As I thought of him, the temporalness and transiense of life dawned on me. Life is fleeting. Short. Brief.

It's like Elton John sang about the late Princess Diana "she lived her life like a candle in the wind."

A candle in the wind can have its fire blown out at any time.
Humans are like that, here today and gone tomorrow, never to be seen again.

Moments like this make one question the essence of life and makes every offense seem forgivable. I mean, why hold on to a grudge or pride when you are not even sure what tomorrow holds?

I think of my uncle, a man who made me laugh many times as a child. A man who also reprimanded me and others. He was one of those I thought would be there when I get married - he always wanted me to bring HIM. He was a man who seemed like he could take on anything. He had a presence that enveloped any room he walked into and could easily have been called 'Anikulapo', one who carries death in his pouch.

I was told that he lost a lot of weight due to the illness he suffered. But, I choose to remember him as I last saw him - big and tall and dark and lively and happy and healthy.

I choose to remember him so I will not forget to be grateful for life, family and love.

I choose to live more from intention than habit.

I choose to remember God and live this life He has given me as a sacrifice to Him.

More Than A Miracle

Photo Credit: United Bible Societies

I scanned the bookshelf seeking out the titles, in search of the next book to read. I had finally finished Michelle Obama's 'Becoming', a book that has left me profoundly challenged and also, probably caused a new side of me to emerge. 

I had opened it up not knowing what to expect but each word, phrase, sentence, paragraph, chapter and part of the book reinforced the reality of the world we live in. 

A world that defines and classifies you from the day you are born, based on the colour of your skin, gender, social class and creed. A world of complexities, pain, juxtapositions and ironies. A world which offers you the option of fight or flight. A world that is both harsh and warm, depending on the perspective you choose. A world that can also be better maneuvered with the gift of family and a community of encouragers. Voices nudging you on in the face of challenges, helping you on your feet, keeping you steady and pulling you back up when you stumble or fall.

While I would never understand the struggle of being black and female in the America Michelle grew up in, I would say that I am grateful to her for sharing her story because while her achievements are enough evidence that anyone can rise, knowing that she had every reason not to would be great consolation on dark, difficult days. She emphasizes the importance of education as the tool to helping you find your voice and the major vehicle to a better reality.

Her story tells me that even the 'Greats' are just like me, sometimes unsure and terrified and do not always feel qualified.

Unlike me though, they have managed to make a mark in the world and reading their stories make me question my purpose in the world. 

I have spent about three decades on earth and I am clear minded enough to know that purpose isn't tied to one thing. I have also been bold enough to not put a label on myself and have given myself the grace to take up different roles - even when I didn't feel qualified to handle them.

Still some niggling questions remain. 

Am I doing enough? Are there people apart from my immediate family who would go out of their way to keep me safe? Have I impacted or invested enough in anyone to make me immortal in their minds? What more can I do?

I have held myself from a lot of things out of fear and I have also lurched forward and taken the bull by the horn at other times. But, sometimes I fear that I have not exercised enough faith and courage to be all I can be.

Sometimes I fear that I would leave this earth and not do all I was created for or explore the amazing possibilities and opportunities that could be birthed through me.

Sometimes, I feel small. For this reason I am always grateful for encouragers & nurturers. Those who take time from their own life just to nod and say to me "never doubt yourself." My personal gospel choir, voices which though not all sonorous call out the deep inside of me.

As I scanned the shelf, I picked up 'Soar' by Bishop T.D. Jakes but I put it back on the shelf as I have done many times. I just feel not ready to read the book.

I scanned once more and my eyes fall on the title 'More Than A Miracle'. The author Chinwe Ezeanya autographed and gifted me this book in December 2018. I had gone to interview her on the story of her son Diken'agha Yobanna Nadim Victory Ezeanya - now eleven years old. Dike is the first baby to survive Biliary Atresia - a congenital Liver disease - in Nigeria (other Nigerian children who have survived it, didn't live in the country). She had to donate her Liver for a transplant that was done in India and her baby survived against the odds. This birthed the idea for the book.

I am set to read it almost one year after owning it and as I scan the pages, I am certain that it will be not just educating and insightful, it will open me up to a higher level of loving - sacrificing unto life and a determinism to protect the eternal bond of family.

I hope though, that it will serve as a reminder that I have not done badly and that for every story like Chinwe and Dike's that I have told as a Journalist, I have made a mark in the world.

I hope also that I have been more than just a daughter, sister, friend, colleague, neighbour, aunt and human to those I have met on this journey called life.

I hope that someone, somewhere, someday would think of me or maybe even call me up just to say "for what it's worth, you have been a miracle...and even more".

I hope.