Reflections

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Siblings speak
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I pledge to Nigeria my country, I think
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July in review: Best month yet
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August: The bridge, the break
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June in review: Almost
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To the tie – rrific parent
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May in review
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007: Remembering Roger Moore
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April in review
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Knowing Kigali: Emily’s hands

Siblings speak

Tight. Strangled. “I’m almost done. Just this strangled part left.” “Look at the tight thing I want to iron!” These twin words sufficed for size. Usually the tiny, minuscule or little kind in the context of the conversation. Occasionally it could be used for food. Here it refers to clothing.   Gauge. Standard. Like the set above, it is closely related to size but in food matters only. They denote the desired quantity as dictated by the intensity (or lack thereof) of hunger pangs battering the user. “I said standard, standard! And you gave me gauge!” “Sorry.” Erring party taking the plate away to adjust appropriately. Sometimes it was difficult telling the terms apart.   Bus stop. Unlike other words, this was inferred. Occasionally it found its way into conversations but wasn’t as popular because it meant more to non-family members. Growing up, our house was smack in the middle of the city. One bus/taxi – ride brought you within walking or viewing range of it – depending on what area of town you were coming from. This meant many things to many of our friends and family. A shoe mishap, car malfunction, insufficient transport fare, a sudden attack of[…]

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I pledge to Nigeria my country, I think

Long ago, I stopped comparing and wishing Nigeria would attain a second – world status; first (world) is stretching my fantasy beyond its elastic limit. A couple of weekends past, in the middle of work, I overheard the children singing the country’s national anthem. Probably an off shoot of the IAAF championships; all those different anthems played in the course of the games must have sparked something in them, stoked their tender, patriotic streak and they inadvertently burst out into it. As I listened to them, I was reminded of myself at that age – the tune was no problem but the words, those were a different ball game. Those I knew I belted out loudly, confidently; others I didn’t, I murmured and stumbled over. They were my children all right but they weren’t going to make some of my mistakes if I could help it. My mission, if I decided to embark upon it, would be elocution classes for the national anthem. We had been at it, every day for about a week (and I could hear progress) when my pride was deflated by some seemingly unpatriotic Nigerians as various groups began to threaten to declare: Biafra Republic Oduduwa[…]

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July in review: Best month yet

Because I have mentioned some of the things which occurred in this month in previous posts, I’ll keep it short and sweet. July was, perhaps, my best month yet. The weather added nothing whatsoever to the success recorded. It was anything but fine most of the 31 days contained therein. At least two rainstorms wreaked havoc on human lives and property. The water they left behind turned buildings to mini dams and major roads to major rivers. The children’s long vacation commenced fully and it has been cartoon binging since July 1, with some home assignments thrown in between screen time. And so far, I’ve been able  to work undisturbed, focus and achieve daily. My reading practice received a boost to three books this month. Adding one or two more is next on my agenda. And I completed a 31-day  writing prompt challenge. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t scurrying around at the end of another month in an attempt to reach my required posting target. Happy anniversary, my workout routine! It has been one year since I began exercising three/four days weekly. The changes are minimal and only just obvious; so are the practices which have[…]

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August: The bridge, the break

August called. She said she’d be here tomorrow. It is uncertain if she’ll come along with the break she’s famous for. With changing weather patterns and global warming, anything could happen. This year has taken its toll on her too, and she’s contemplating allowing the perennial rains to continue in order to wash away her disappointments and failures. We can go ahead and keep our fingers crossed though; no harm in it. Hope is a good thing to have. However, there’s no doubt about that breather she’d provide before the -ember months come banging in. That is a given. Well…until she arrives. Until tomorrow.  

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June in review: Almost

Despite June commencing on a beautiful note – reading on course? Check. Writing in progress? Check. Workout routine on track? Double check – the combination of dreary weather, everyday rain and an unexpected bout of sore throat quickly turtle-slowed down my momentum. Save for just one routine, I almost made the perfect score I aimed for this month. And after meticulously planning my writing schedule for June (and beginning and continuing with a bang), I almost avoided scrambling to meet up with my target number of posts per month. Almost. But almost, like Brandy Norwood sang, doesn’t count. So those are counts against me. Or are the standards I set for myself impossibly high? Cut yourself some slack, girl, it wasn’t all doom and gloom (like the weather) this month. Noteworthy and not a near – miss were the two books I consumed in four weeks or less, comfortably reaching my a-book-a-fortnight goal for the first time in months. Hurray! Then there was this 30 – day, water – only challenge I set for myself in June which was hugely successful; smack in the middle of juices, sodas, shakes and loaded ice cream cups I bought for my beau and[…]

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To the tie – rrific parent

It was a day like this when Wana Udobang penned something in the lines of ‘You’re more than just an ATM’ to you. I’m just here to reiterate (and expound on) her words. Every offspring of yours has half of your goodness, your passions, your uniqueness. The support – emotional, moral, spiritual – you willingly offer to your significant other can never, ever be rounded off into monetary value. Your presence, quirks, nuances and why you’re absolutely loved by that woman, those children are huge parts of what accounts for your true worth. You’re your son’s first hero; your daughter’s first love. You have a beautiful calling. Your children call you, dad. Your wife calls you [insert appropriate sweet, syrupy endearment here]. And God calls you His – His son. Made in His image. After His likeness. One of His finest creations (The woman is His finest!). And today, we celebrate all that makes you amazing – finances included. Happy Father’s Day!…to you and all the other wonderful dads out there.

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May in review

The children’s month; that’s how I regard the month of May because three school – free days (holidays) await them every time it rolls in. May 1st: Workers’ Day. May 27th: Nigeria’s Children’s Day. May 29th: Nigeria’s Democracy Day. And somewhere in between these holidays is Chairman’s birthday which just increases his level of exuberance. So, it was a hip-hip-hurray moment as he became a year older and celebrated it, rather excitedly, at school. For two years in a row every May, I make certain all my posts for this month are children- centred. Not this time around though; I pay tribute to my two adorable recruits with every sound and gesture I make daily. That should suffice this year. Besides holidays and birthdays, two other things stood out for me this month as personal highlights. I recorded the most consistency in my workout routine in the last 31 days than I have done in the last six months. Extremely proud of myself. The second was acquiring a stack of books (novels, memoirs, devotional) that I’d delve into, head/eyes first, next month. I can’t wait! How did the month of May treat you?

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007: Remembering Roger Moore

Who was/is your best James Bond actor? In my teens, Roger Moore reigned supreme. He was my every day crush. Suave. Smooth and where handsome happened in all the Bond films he featured in. The ladies fell over him, and he knew just how to soften those who seemed immune to the charms he exuded. That voice of his always pitched at the right decibel when speaking to love interest or foes alike. And nobody could say, “My name is Bond, James Bond,” quite like he did. He knew how to strike a pose especially when a glass of wine and a stick of cigarette were involved. With his action moves and fantastic, out-of-this world gadgets which enhanced his status, he was the ultimate secret agent. In my opinion, he was the standard James Bond character all the others should have aspired to be; the epitome of Ian Fleming’s exact thoughts when he put the persona together in his books; and the visual attestation to my knight in shining armour…or rather in those fitting-like-a-glove suits he was always clad in. My unrivalled action hero. In my innocent, shallow, crush-crushed heart, he was it! Until I grew older. Until Pierce Brosnan[…]

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April in review

The top highlight of this month should be the Easter celebrations, right? It kinda of was. For some of us – the children, my mum and I – it was spending it in a new city. So, while the Easter holidays were definitely something to write and talk about, it was more of where we celebrated it that made all the difference – more exciting and interessant. Besides T celebrating double digits’ achievement in the first week of April (her birthdate fell during exams), the rest of April’s activities were taken over by our Kigali trip. And what a trip we had! Refer to all the posts prefixed with Knowing Kigali to read about our high – altitude spell in Rwanda.

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Knowing Kigali: Emily’s hands

Physiotherapy. Therapy that uses physical agents: exercise and massage and other modalities. I hoped to be a physiotherapist once; many moons ago in my teenage years. Or a masseuse. With a parlour (back then it wasn’t called a spa) of my own. Easing out tired, tense muscles. Relaxing overworked bodies. Physiotherapist. Masseuse. Either name conjured an unusual, rare profession that I wanted to be associated with. Like diamonds, there were scarcely any therapy parlours – spas – around then; it wasn’t even considered a thing. Expectedly, friends and acquaintances regarded me with incredulous looks when I voiced out my desires. What on earth is she talking about? But it was its rarity, unfamiliarity and seeming untested terrain (in this part of the world) that held widening appeal for me, as well as my amateur practices at home. I was the resident hands when all manner of pains/aches plagued my siblings or parents. Despite the temporary relief I proffered with my little knowledge of the art (no Youtube to the rescue back then), my hands needed training, direction; I was just feeling my way through every massage I gave, improvising as I went along, adopting techniques that paid off to my[…]

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