Archive - March 2017

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March in review
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G.L.i.B – bed: The Undead
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G.L.i.B – bing: Laughter is the best medicine …for your body and soul
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Reaching the first two digits
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Water, e no get enemy
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Phenomenal Woman

March in review

And to think this month began with a bang that propelled me to march forth into it – conquering, achieving, succeeding. Another bang. I fell ill. The kind that required medication, rest and recuperation. The sudden halt this brought in my activities was more discouraging than the situation itself. Medication and continuous motion can be a deadly combination. I had to tell myself to take it extra slow and watch helplessly as I lost valuable time in the process. The one bright light though was T’s birthday towards the end of the month. A significant age too. She turned 10 years old . The beginning of the double digits years. She’s becoming a lady poco a poco. Any plans of celebrating the event in school were squashed by exams starting the very next day. She spent most her birthday reading after gulping a medium -sized cup of scrumptious ice cream. Perhaps once the exams are over , we’ll do a little something. I read three books this month (Whiskey Beach, The Carnivorous City and The Lazarus Effect) while still juggling my 9 – 5 job. My consulting gigs are still hibernating. Let’s hope I’d be ready (and still interested) when the clients are. Chairman has a hole in his smile; one of his upper front tooth came out and left this huge space in the row. For a while he didn’t’t want to shine his teeth. Vain like his mother. Ha! Now he does so without thinking. It’s the end of the first quarter of the year and I think I’ve waffled around enough. Time to get more serious with all the work of my hand,heart and head – writing,reading, consulting, parenting. Hope your Q1 was what you wanted it to be. Credits: abcvi.com crowdfundinsider.com bigstockphoto.com

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G.L.i.B – bed: The Undead

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to read The Lazarus Effect immediately after The Carnivorous City. The cover art did me in. That hand, in the shadows, rising out from the ground was too much of a temptation. I wanted to know what was behind it. What was the novel all about? How was the biblical story of Lazarus woven into its plot? So I grabbed the book. I also couldn’t help but glean the similarities of both books cover arts – the same use of colour and shades to interpret the titles, the fact that they shared the same publisher… It was my first modern South Africa – based book, post-apartheid. Mine Boy, back in literature study days, did well to introduce my younger self to a glimpse of the South African way of life during the apartheid. Who can forget the ‘Free Mandela’ songs or the ‘Black President’ ones? My then innocent mind read for the pleasure of it; apartheid and white supremacy were concepts I didn’t quite grasp completely. I’m older and wiser with more exposure to the then black South African plight (I was well aware of the official end of apartheid in the ‘90s, the release of Mandela, and his election as the first black South African president) especially through their numerous soaps and series – Egoli, Isindingo, Generations, Scandal, Jacob’s Cross, etc. I read through this book like an old, familiar, well -referenced textbook unconsciously comparing it with The Carnivorous City. H.J. Golakai’s inclusion of various nationalities brought its own interesting edge to the book while making it relatable. South Africa has become one of the preferred melting points of sorts for the world. The South Africans and their culture, weather, food, mannerisms and attitudes reverberated as familiar nuggets gleaned from their soaps. The Liberian presence threw up the war and the devastating emotional and physical effects it could have on an adult, more so a child. Connie Adebayo represented Nigerians to the T – her speech, entrepreneurship tilt, attitude. The American intonation had me in stitches sometimes and was a fitting wrap”more

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G.L.i.B – bing: Laughter is the best medicine …for your body and soul

Growing up, I read more editions of Reader’s Digest than I can count. Each and every time, the first pages I’d turn to were the humour sections. I’d have my fill of the jokes featured before reading the more serious issues of life contained therein. I haven’t read a copy of Reader’s Digest in a while. I miss it. In this present times of everything going sideways in the world and particularly in Nigeria, a good laugh is exactly what the doctor ordered. And causing me hearty, bellyfuls of it is a compact book I didn’t know I purchased last year. I stumbled upon it last week while searching for yet another novel to devour. Titled The Mini Manual of Humourous Quotes, it is divided into categories (eating and drinking, love and marriage, social…) where sayings of famous people from all walks of life are presented. The last two days of burying my nose between its pages have elicited loud guffaws as well as wry smiles from me. Reading through it has been worth every hilarious moment. It has also taken me down memory lane to my first year at the university. A volume named The Book of Insults kept me company while I waited in long queues during the registration and course signing processes. It contained famous figures (largely British, some Americans and few other nationalities as well) trading barbed and blunt insults (rudeness, abuse) amongst themselves. I squealed with laughter. I cringed with shock. I winced with embarrassment and I gained more insight into typical British speech, humour and mannerism. It was a fantastic read and was huge enough to occupy me for more than a week. Some of the insults, to my absolute delight, have found their way into this current book I’m reading. Like running into an old friend you haven’t seen in ages, I shriek with pleasure whenever a familiar one appears on a page. But alas, a small volume can only be stretched for so long. Sadly (ironically), I’d be done with this funny read tomorrow. I’d have loved to hang on to it”more

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Reaching the first two digits

In editing, you are advised to write numbers 0 – 9 in words; once you reach 10, the instructions change – 10 and beyond are preferred in numbers. Perhaps to stand them out? Highlight their double digits significant? Or simply because attaining the number 10 and higher in any endeavor is no mean feat? Before now, there used to be quite an emphasis on the 10th year marriage milestone. We’ve been together for a decade. Wow! We’ve made it thus far! Congratulations to us! Not anymore. One year, two, three, five, seven, nine years anniversaries receive equal importance and relevance these days. Months and weeks too! However, nothing truly beats the 10th year anniversary; it’s the first of the major milestones anniversaries according to About.com. The harbinger of all the others. The zero in 10 in the form of circle is a symbol of unit, completing the meaning of the number 1 to show that the number 10 contains all preceding numbers as a whole contains its parts. A child’s 10th birthday signals the tween years and the last chance you will have to celebrate childhood as you know it. Double figures at last! Your baby has left single birthdays behind forever… -Kiwifamilies.co.nz If you are still in the dark as to what the thrust of this article is, here let me help you out of your misery. T. turned 10 today. This, this will take a while. To adjust my view to her new age and tune my mind in the direction she’s headed. I’m still processing it. Saying she’s 10 years is no problem at all; coming to terms with it is a whole new ball game altogether. Maybe it’d stick in my consciousness and help me transition into this new stage of her life if I just keep repeating it, intermittently. T. is 10. Maybe. Meanwhile, happy birthday, T, my very own baby girl! photo credit: zazzle.com pinterest.com

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Water, e no get enemy

Wherever you are and whatever you do on March 22, make it about water. -World Water Day It was with renewed sight she stared at the meruwa this morning. Positioned by the opened gates, she watched him heave the iron and wooden makeshift contraption gingerly into the grounds and towards the back of the house where the water tank stood. 12 tired- looking, dirty – black coloured, water – filled jerrycans made iron and wooden rub against each other and creak noisily under their liquid weight. Two of the four wheels on the cart joined in the chorus as they jutted out awkwardly from their once – fixed located in front. Were they always like this? She wondered, as she swung the gates shut. Probably. But she was always occupied with other thoughts to notice before now. Thoughts of her dislike at attending to the gates in order to get water for daily use. Especially during the weekends when she could be using her time in other ways or activities. The length of time the water would last before another round of gate opening was required. How much it costs (financial, emotional, physical) to buy water twice (or sometimes, three times) weekly. That thought, at the beginning of their dance of water survival with meruwa – supplied water, about the source. And perennially wondering when the government would finally do the job they hadn’t done in almost two years and provide potable water for its citizens in her area. All meaningless and silly thoughts now. She cringed slightly just recalling them. Her earlier concerns made frivolous by the fact that “1.8 billion people use a source of drinking water contaminated with faeces, putting them at risk of contracting cholera, dysentery, typhoid and polio.” Part of a UN report – to commemorate world water day – she had read prior to the arrival of her water supply that morning. Knowledge wasn’t only power; it could be pretty humbling too. Instead of returning to the house like she’d usually do, she remained at the gates under the scorching sun for the meruwa’s”more

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Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can’t touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them They say they still can’t see. I say, It’s in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. Now you understand Just why my head’s not bowed. I don’t shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing It ought to make you proud. I say, It’s in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need of my care, ‘Cause I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. – Maya Angelou Happy International Women’s Day!

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