An Ode to the Christmases past

In the past week, the nostalgia of a commonly shared Christmas tradition among Igbo people has been HEAVY on the internet, especially on the platform formerly known as Twitter. Naturally, posts from that platform trickles to the other platforms, including Instagram.

One of the most acknowledged “regrets” was the fact that new generation Igbo people may struggle to share in our excitement of what Christmas and end of year means to the older generation of Igbo people.

We call it “going to the Village”.

Its the reason why transport providers record massive profit that time of the year, and channel most of their resources to transporting people from all over the country to the south-east part of the country. The fares are doubled/tripled/ fourpled (you get the gist), because the laws of demand and supply must be obeyed, from about the 15th of December till about the 7th of January covering to and fro routes (Unrelated: I like how the French say this – aller-retour).

So, most people begin weeks in advance to confirm their travel itinerary and secure tickets for the journey.

The reason this is a nostalgic post is, while fortunate people like me are still able to travel home without fail during this season, we can recognise how much things have changed and not for the better.

For starters, the cost of travelling in the past year has seen such an unprecedented hike, I really wished Corona year was the last time in a long time we would find ourselves using that word, unprecedented. Whether you choose to travel by road or by air (which are the only 2 options that exist), you find that the cost is insane for one person, imagine large families who would need to pay for this service. The roads are not even reportedly in great condition, so the journey is not painless. Bad roads definitely mean that security while on those roads is not guaranteed. I remember traveling by road last year and being made to come down from the vehicle and cross some distance on foot at a police security checkpoint. Yes, the checkpoints are another way that you know, without a doubt, that you have arrived the East.

The other cause of heartache is that after you cross the seven rivers and seven seas of paying the cost to travel, you may be returning to a village that is a shadow of how you remember it, ravaged by insecurity and the menace of Ungun known men. There is no assurance that you are safe when you sleep and wake that you will still be able to smile heartily. This has resulted in people vacating their hometowns for relatively safer areas. Meaning, village as most of us remember it doesn’t exist anymore.

There’s also the effect of urbanisation. Leaving for the big city. First we leave for Lagos and Abuja. On the way to the UK and Canada. This pain point is one that has totally broken me. All year round, I would usually take solace in living far away from my siblings, friends and cousins, because I know that come Christmas, the guys will touchdown and we will catch up and eat, and share bellyful of laughs and take pictures to see us through the coming capitalist year.

Alas!

I will never forget the first dust that rises into the air, as you pull the curtains aside in the village home that isn’t used enough. I remember my siblings and I preferring the village house to the one we grew up in, and constantly wishing we could transplant the houses. I remember my mother threatening to leave us if we are not ready when she was ready to leave, and to make sure we regret it, she packs every foodstuff possible (down to salt), so that you starve for your disobedience. I remember my Dad buying a Hiace bus and Sienna when we all grew up and my brother started to drive, so that we could all travel in comfort. I remember walking from house to house, greeting all the aunties and uncles and eating the rice they offer and drinking the “minerals.” Perhaps I can blame my potbelly on all the accumulated food and drink from all the years. These days, my cousins have the children, and because no one comes home as clockwork as before, I find myself looking at extended family members whom I know nothing about. Not even their names.

I write all this to say that this is one area I would love to see “the more things change, the more they remain the same” come alive.

I really love being Igbo and growing up Igbo. Losing all of this good stuff; culture/way of life, to forces beyond anyone’s control is a major pain point.

I am still going to the village, Thank God. My village is one of the fortunate safe ones (by Gods grace) and my parents are expecting me. I may spend all of it indoors, cooking and eating, doomscrolling and intermittently having conversations with my parents, and I will love it.

I just wish I could have more. More friends to share it with like I used to.

Love and Christmas lights,

Jem

I, Jem, of the Navigating Adulthood ville

For the first time in a long time, when I felt the rush to write something, it wasn’t about Mrs. Maisel.

October of 2023 is rounding up and I am pseudo-analysing my year as I am wont to do. In comparison to the effort of 2022, this one showed more grit, but the human nature in me says it’s not enough yet.

I reviewed my vision board for the year, and I had the pleasure of making my phone lockscreen so that I am reminded to be intentional. It looks like progress was made, the needle was moved, and the power of intention was validated afresh.

So, in some way, 2023 was like a modification of my 2017. I learned again how much things can improve when you are intentional about it improving. This is funny because the trend shows that I make these changes after I have a reportedly abysmal year (2016/2022), which, when you look in from the outside, looks like a cool af year experience.

I experienced my first friendship break-up this year, and nothing could have prepared me for it. For one, this is someone I thought would be in my life forever, but e be like forever na 20 years… I also didn’t imagine that the reason I was cut off was valid enough. I know we aren’t supposed to invalidate other people’s feelings, but you know the dangers of a one-sided story. Ms. Adichie already did us the honor of reminding us this, all those years ago. I am also self-aware to an extent, so I know I am not bad vibes. I’m what you may call a low-maintenance friend. I meet you halfway or all the way, depending on how I feel. You see, this evaluation was triggered by a conversation I had with another friend. She asked how I do it, how I am able to show up all the time for my friends, and how to show an equal amount of energy. My response to that was that I didn’t overthink it. It’s the only way I know how. I am not the soldier matching on to war with you (because I can’t fight), but I am a soldier all the same.

An after effect of the pains of that friendship break up was that I was going to dey in my lane. I go check who check me. I go send who send me and all the variations of that type of resolution. Of course, I have failed at it. It’s natural for me to reach out and want to hang out or whatever, and the chore has been more of restraining myself because I dey ask myself, “Does this person send you like that?”

I have decided that I am going to continue doing what and how I know to do life. It hasn’t cost me so much so… Aluta continua.

The other bone in my adulting shoes is living in a country whose economy is dwindling. I should be grateful to afford the life that I have, but knowing that I want more from life and that it may require a renewed spin on the rat race just gives me so much heartache.

Adulting is a scam, but I am Alive and well so this post is naturally going to end in praise.

There’s less than 100 days left to the end of year and my next birthday so.. what can I do in this time to make sure I have stupendous excitement fueling my birthday?

I am open to all your suggestions.

Abe & Rose Weismann

When you google Model parents or look it up in the dictionary, I hope you see Abe and Rose’s face.

Parents of the year!

They were the quirkiest but most devoted parents I have ever seen on TV.

I know, I know, its been ages since I was supposed to come here and regale you with my Marvelous Mrs. Maisel tales, but I live in Lagos, Nigeria, and most of my energy has been spent on staying alive and well.

I watched a lot of Tony Shalhoub as Monk, so I wasn’t surprised by his quirks, but his sense of humour, now that kept me coming back for more.

I can recount so many instances where they demonstrated their devotion to each other (as husband Abe and Wife Rose) and their support for Miriam (Midge).

Like when Midge told Abe, that she couldn’t take Joel back, because he left (unprovoked) and Abe understood. No questions asked. He even honored her a notch by not telling Rose, until it was impossible not to tell her because Rose wasn’t giving up hope that Joel would return. It earned him the dog house but it was for the best.

Or was it when Midge shared that she was resuming work at B.Altman and he ran through his checklist real quick – Rose can’t watch your children everyday, what is your back up plan? Are you getting paid in money? Do you have a checking and savings account to receive this money?

Or when in the last season, he expressed his regret at not recognising Miriam’s genius as much as he had his son’s because he was myopic and could only recognise one type of genius. He had done same with his grandchildren and learned that genius was not gender specific.

He was also the husband that embraced reinventing himself outside of what he had done all of his life. The one who moved all the way to France to be with Rose, after she had a middle life crisis and decided that she wanted to find herself anew.

I wish that I grew up around some of Rose’s influence. Some, because she would have frustrated me with the need to always look perfect, and I would have frustrated her with my reluctance to comply to her unreal beauty standards. But I sure would have loved to learn to keep track of my body statistics, If I had a black book that religiously recorded my stats, this potbelly that I am struggling to lose would not exist.

And she brought us Dr. Benjamin!!! She would have matchmade me by now, and saved me from the ghetto that is the current dating pool. A true entrepreneur, believing that the family is the bedrock of every society.

Shall we fail to mention her ability to negotiate. She seemed to have a knack for knowing what would make for a good bargain, which of course, Miriam picked up.

I have tried to stall mentioning her wardrobe! Gosh! The woman puts the Oriaku in housewife! Its easy to see where Miriam gets her fantastic fashion sense from. Even when they were “broke”, Rosey baby was never caught unfresh!

I know that I said Miriam is my favourite fictional character ever, but I have to give props to the “people who raised her”. This couple carried the show on some episodes with their wholesome peculiarities. They weren’t the puppets scriptwriters often make supportive parents out to be. The way they were not suck ups to Astrid’s need to please (poor Astrid :’) )

I really loved knowing Abe and Rose Weismann for all of the Mrs Maisel seasons.

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Only the best show ever.

I have the penchant to binge watch TV and throw away my responsibilities
while being couch potato. Hence, my preference for full length movies/feature
films instead of TV series.

My friends know this. There are only a handful of series that I can boast of
showing enough dedication and some that I haven’t seen as much as an episode
of, despite their popularity.

So when my friend Wednesday
messages me from her cocoon in the abroad and says “I know you don’t like
to subscribe to series, but there is this show – The Marvelous Mrs Maisel. I think you will
love it. It is totally your vibe. I keep thinking to myself while I watch it,
that Ijeuru will love this”.

I was skeptical because, what was I going to sacrifice on the altar of responsibility to be able to
watch all of the existing episodes? (it was already 2 or 3 seasons in by this
time) but she had taken the time to message me, and by god, I was going to
honour her request because she did follow up with reminders.

I got into episode one.
I recognised only one actor, Tony Shalhoub from Monk (when I was in Uni, I
could afford to binge TV without any guilt). He played Abe Weissman,
Miriam/Midge’s father. But as pilot episodes go, that was one helluva pilot
because I was HOOKED by
the end of it!

It is now exactly 2 weeks since the last episode of the final season aired,
and I am in a state of “amaghnkeeme“.

Its like mourning a loss that is not really a loss because you still have
all the pieces with you, but you don’t get to share new experiences. I can’t
categorically say what I would have loved to see that didn’t already play out –
an affair with Gordon? More Lenny?
Dr. Benjamin!!!! Aww… I really missed Benjamin after his time was up. I was
lowkey holding my breath that they would bump into each other again. But he is
a proud man (and hot cake), he cut his losses quick!

I would have even stuck out for a Joel come back, but we all know that ship
sailed. However, the Joel of season 5, my favourite version of Joel Maisel!

Maybe we can rally for a Susie Myerson spin-off, but after the
“Testi-Roastrial” episode, one of my favourite episodes ever btw,
there was hardly anything new to tell. Unless in more details.

It is possible that the reason this show resonates with me so strongly is its huge family undertone. it’s so family oriented without being PG rated. 

Let me tell you about my faves in some more detail. This is going to be a longggg post,
unless I can help myself.

On second thoughts, I will make this a series, so everyone gets their time
in the sun that is this my blog, instead of lumping everything in here.

If you need any more persuasion to watch the Marvelous Mrs Maisel, THIS IS
IT!

It is showing on Amazon Prime. Thank me later!

Auf Wiedersehen

I fell in love with German in 2020. In the middle of going through a pandemic that had every one flabbergasted, I found myself discovering that this language which I had no prior feelings whatsoever for , was indeed worthy of my devotion.

That is how something can start out to mean something else to you, and take a totally different turn in the same lifetime.

Today is the 2nd of December. Until 2019, it was bittersweet, because I was conflicted with two memories. Both of which have similar origins.

They were my brothers. Not by nuclear family relations, but in the sense of everything a brother should mean to me.

They were Sickle Cell Warriors till the very end.

They are both linked to the 2nd day of December, year of our Lord 2017.

While one was celebrating his nuptials, another was breathing his last.

I will forever look back at that date fondly because of who these people meant to me. They are both resting in the Lord now, and I am grateful for an afterlife that is promised of rest, free from all the many ills of life and living.

I especially like how the Germans say goodbye.

Auf =On

Wieder = Again

Sehen = Seeing

On seeing again, the surety of it all. That for sure, we will get the chance to see again, so this isn’t “goodbye”.

Shoot your Shot : Launch at Lunch

It’s almost lunch hour when the front-desk rings my office line, and I groan a little. I am a little tempted to ignore it and pretend that I started my lunch break a little early.

On second thoughts I pick up just before it cuts off.

“Janet.” My tone is intended to relay my displeasure.

“Hi Buchi, There is a Ms. Ari here to see you. Do I send her up or are you coming down to meet her?”

Janet’s chirpiness is a tell-tale of why she got the front-desk job, and even after years of service and promotions, the management has kept her on the role. Her question and tone insinuated that this is a lunch appointment I must not miss and I wonder who Ms. Ari is, and why she has come to see me.

“Janet, please ask if we had an appointment, if not if you can book one for her after lunch. I am afraid I am not expecting anyone.”

“oh” Janet sounded a little disappointed that her assumption was just debunked.

The talk in the background is faint, as if Janet is covering the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Hello Booshe, she says you had a later appointment but that she is willing to buy you lunch if you can squeeze her in now” Janet is clearly on this woman’s side, whoever she may be.

I am intrigued to find out why, so I reply with “I am coming down” and hang up.

I stretch for about a minute and then lace up my shoes. I call my usual lunch place to be sure they have my order working and mention that I may be coming with a guest so that they make the meal to be enough to share.

She has a sleek ponytail, a red jacket over her polka dot dress. Her black heels were clearly not made for walking. Or standing. Because she was now leaning on the reception bar. I don’t recognise her, so I look at Janet for confirmation that she was the person. She nods a little too vigorously. She was an elegant woman, so I understand Janet’s eagerness now. I would be excited too if she was my love interest.

“Hi”. I say and She looks up from her phone, a little rattled.

The office design always gave one the advantage of seeing the reception area while staying out of sight, so she hadn’t seen me coming.

She stands straight to meet me toe to toe, like a defense. She was tall. And pretty. But still unfamiliar.

“I realise we didn’t get a formal introduction, hence the mix up earlier” she gesticulates to imply the phone conversation.

I nodded. Waiting.

“you still don’t recognise me?”

“I am afraid not, but you promised to pay for my lunch and if I am not there in 5 minutes, I may lose my favourite table” I motion for her to follow me.

The restaurant is a 2-minute walk so even though I didn’t intend to drive, I remember her shoes and I reconsider. That’s when I saw it.

My ‘impounded’ car was parked right there in the car lot.

I hear her giggle behind me.

I must have jerked to a halt when I saw it. That’s why she giggled.

I turn around, and the scales fall out of my eyes as I recognise her.

THE DIFFICULT WOMAN FROM THE MALL.

Why was she dressed so pretty?

Where were her boring khaki clothes?

Why was she in my workplace?

“I don’t have time for this right now.” The words came right out of my mouth before I could even gather my thoughts.

It was my lunch hour, and all I wanted was my boring pasta and chicken in pesto sauce.

“You don’t have time to eat?”

I grind my teeth. “Actually, I do” I decide against driving and start walking as I am used to, intent on punishing her.

“I can’t keep up with your pace. These shoes aren’t made for walking long distances”

I grin inside. My goal met.

“The restaurant is right by this corner. I am trying not to lose my reservation.”

She must have sensed that her discomfort was my intention because she didn’t complain and tried to stay at least 2 steps behind.

I am exchanging pleasantries with the Maître D’ when she caught up.

I fake a smile at her, and she smiles back. The Maître D’ shows us to our table, and we seat. Force of habit, I pull out her chair for her, and she doesn’t hide her surprise.

“I hope you like Pasta, I took the pleasure of ordering for you. This place is quite busy at lunch hour and I try to save on my waiting time by ordering ahead.”

“I can eat Pasta” she says, still rummaging the menu. “No starters?”

“I’m afraid not. “

“Hmmph”

I signal the waiter for some drinks.

“So, Ari eh?”

“well, Arinzechukwu really but every time I say that, people expect to see a man.”

“I wonder why” it was a joke she found funny and we laughed a little.

“Why did you drive my car to my office, Arinzechukwu?” after the chuckles faded, I dug right in.

“I figured us walking here was punishment for Saturday, yes?”

My twinkling eyes may have given me away, but I said nothing.

“I am sorry if you thought I was being difficult on Saturday.”

An apology.

Surprise!

I tried not to let it show and responded with “Actions have consequences, and You were intent on teaching me that.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes as if to say, I hope my little revenge gave me some pleasure “Indeed I was.”

Our meals arrive and I smile in appreciation and dig in.

We eat in silence and I try not to gobble down the food.

“So, if we just eat in silence, it will defeat the entire purpose of having a lunch date.”

I raise my brows and try not to overthink that she called this a ‘date’.

“since I am the one who requested it, I might as well say why.

My name is Arinzechukwu Reynolds. I was recently appointed to take over my fathers place in the board at the Nolds conglomerate. Nolds is the company that manages the Mall as well as some other real estate companies around town.

Which means that my day job is more across a desk or in a board room.

My visit to the mall on Saturday was a routine check to see that all the processes are functioning optimally and identify areas which need improvement.

The downside is that our meeting on Saturday exposed how impressionable our staff can be to sweet talk, which means we have to invest in trainings some more…”

“And you are here to give me the bill as agreed. You could have just mailed it to me. I didn’t need to be wooed. I am good for my word.”

“Well, you interrupted me because I was just about to say that it wouldn’t be necessary”

The grin on her face is full of mischief. She slides my car key across the table to me.

I am still staring in disbelief. Like, this woman gave me grief for her own amusement.

“wow!”

That’s all I can find myself saying. I signal for the cheque.

She tries to reach for it. I snatch it out of her reach.

“That won’t be necessary.” I sign on the receipt, pick up my car keys and rise. “Thank you for personally returning my car, I guess. Would you like me to call you a cab?”

The mischief disappears and she looks uncertain. This didn’t play out however she pictured it I reckon. Was I supposed to find it amusing like she clearly did?

“That won’t be necessary” she said softly, reaching for her drink, as if therein lay her comfort.

*********************************************************************************************************

“How was lunch?”

Janet wasn’t at her desk when I walked past because she was waiting for me by my door.

I rolled my eyes.

**********************************************************************************************************

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Your assistant mentioned you went on a lunch date. You must like this one if you pulled all the stops. I don’t remember when last you wore colour”

“Neutrals are colours too!”

“If you are defending yourself, then you know exactly what I mean.”  The cheeky smile is identical to the mischievous grin Ari had sported earlier.

“Well, Zika, If I am calling you to come across town to pick me up, I guess that’s all the telling about how that went.”

“That bad eh?”

Zika looked at his twin sisters face. He couldn’t find words to fit in the moment, so he let them ride in silence.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” He finally asked.

“will your girlfriend be there?”

“Who knows these things??”

Ari throws him a playful punch and they share a laugh.

Shoot your Shot : Mall Cop

“It’s an excellent display of audacity, don’t you think?”

Until I heard her voice, I hadn’t noticed her. In her khaki coloured outfit, it was easy to miss her. I wondered if she intentionally wanted to blend into the surroundings.

 I held her gaze for a few seconds longer and decided against a smart reply.

Experience has taught me that any woman who was willing to challenge a situation was probably capable of sticking it out till the very end. I would be boxing beyond my weight if I dared encourage her, confrontations were no strength of mine.

Maybe I had disappointed her. Which was easy because if you saw me, I had the external features of a person who spent hours daily in a gym, but you needed to know me to understand that façade was bequeathed upon me by no effort of mine.

I picked up the Parking tag, for which I had just been ‘falsely’ accused, nodded at her in acknowledgment and walked away.

I may have thought it was the end of that encounter, I was wrong.

On my way out, I couldn’t gain access out of the parking lot because my tag was malfunctioning.

I reverse and go to find a customer service desk. I cursed a little, missing the abundance of human interaction because thanks to the proliferation of self-service points, the human service desks were fewer, and I had to walk some distance to find an attendant.

“Hi, please can you help me. My tag won’t let me leave the parking lot”

I hand over the tag to the attendant whose nametag read Jean. He gives it a once over and mutters, that’s strange. He speaks into a walkie-talkie and a buzzer, like an electronic door opening, sounds.

“I’m sorry about this, sir. If you can please go through that door, my superior will attend to you” He points at the door which I had heard open and I walked through it.

“If it isn’t the audacious young man.” Again, I heard her before I saw her.

“Good evening Ma’am” I am a little startled and it prompts the polite out of me. For starters, she called me young man in a way that suggested she was older than me. Looking at her, if I were to guess, wouldn’t guess a day older than 40.

 “I understand your tag is refusing to let you through. Can I see it please?”

I nod as I hand it over.

“Vice Presidents Parking” she reads out loud. “Can I see an identification to that effect please?”

That’s when it clicks.

She had intentionally disabled this tag because she wanted to teach me a lesson. I had sweet-talked my way into priority parking earlier, which had earned me the audacity jab, and now she was making it a pain for me. When I look back at her, her eyes are smiling as she recognizes that I get it.

“I’m afraid I can’t provide that because I am not connected to the Vice President. I had asked the attendant for a priority parking spot and paid for one, unfortunately only the VPs spots were available, and I convinced your staff to let me have one” I didn’t stutter, and I impressed myself.

She seemed impressed too. The pause between my response and her next sentence was all the proof I needed.

“I overheard you ‘convincing’ my staff alright, do you remember seeing me down there?”

I nodded.

“Impersonation is a criminal offence, and while I would like for this conversation to continue, I don’t have the time for that. There are always consequences for actions Sir…”

“Buchi. Not Sir” I interrupted. I have no idea why I did that.

She gives me a once over and continues ”Buchi Sir,” I smile in acknowledgment of her sarcasm,  “My team will have to undergo a training next week, as a result of this protocol breach today. To reinforce that this protocol exists not just because someone somewhere had some time on their hands but because it is relevant to maintain order. This training will be paid for by you.”

I gasp. “what? Why?”

“Funny you are asking that after I painstakingly explained the why. Were you not listening?” I wonder where the headmistress tone I can hear is coming from.

Clearly, it was meant to punctuate that it was not a joke.

“How much will this cost?” I am not really worried about the sum but I am concerned about it showing up on my statement.

“Well, it’s a company-wide exercise and these costs are dependent per head and duration. I will have to check with the training company and get back to you.” She looks at me daring me to challenge her.

I have no such intentions. I cannot believe my luck and I just want this episode dealt with and over.

I nod instead. “Here’s my business card, please let me know as soon as you get a quote Ms. …” My voice trails away as I realise she is not wearing  a nametag. She takes the card from me.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to be running after you for the money, so how about you leave your car behind, just so I can make sure that you return.”

“You have got to be kidding me! Are you serious right now!?!” I can’t believe my dumb luck.

She is stretching her hands out for my car keys. “I can book you a taxi” she offers.

I shake my head. “There will be no need for that.” I hand over my car keys and walk out.

There is a limit to how much cool I can keep on one encounter.

Quatre Vingts Ans

Quatre Vingts . Four Twenty’s. That is how the French prefer to say Eighty.

Makes sense if you think about it, because everyone (maybe everyone) remembers the year that they turned Twenty. Like for me, it stood out because I turned 20 on the 20th and it was a Friday and I was also born on a Friday.

So when you have turned 20 four times, I bet it is a very big deal.

Like my Daddy who turns 80 today.

How do you write “too cool for school” in igbo?

I woke up one day, and my Daddy was an old man. A whole Octogenarian. It was a workday in early February, while driving to work, that Google photos pulled up a reminder from 10 years ago, a picture of me at his 70th birthday. I gasped! Because if this was from 10 years ago, it meant he was turning 80 in a few weeks!

I never know anyone who exasperates me and I still love them as much as I love him. I also never met a more proud man.

I am a thorough Daddy’s girl. I was unconscious of this until about 2018, when during my MBA, a classmate expressed her shock in hearing me talk about my mother. In her words, she had assumed my mom departed, as I had only ever mentioned Father, Daddy and its variants in the time she had known me.

I do tend to talk about him a lot, and with good reason.

Mike.

Everyone’s favourite Uncle Mike.

I learned how to listen from my Dad. I was about 6 years old, an ardent new reader, proud of my newly acquired skill, that almost every evening, while my dad ate dinner, I pulled a stool and sat by him, reading him a story from one of my many storybooks. Maybe he was tired, maybe he wasn’t but he always indulged me. Corrected me when I mispronounced a word.

I learned to share from my Dad. While I yapped off his ears every evening, reading God knows what, He shared his dinner with me. A bite of meat here, a pinch of fish there. He always added “go and share with your siblings” whenever he came home with snacks or sweets.

I learned the importance of family and friendship from my Dad.

I learned tolerance from my Dad. He was very accommodating and a champion for potential. He wasn’t the most polite person, but he showed me how to respect the dignity of man.

I learned the honour in honest work. He showed hardwork and creativity in his life’s work, that is how I know that I am capable of big things, good things, great things.

I learned how to give from my Dad. He is/was a generous man. His life story may just be based on “it is more blessed to give than to receive”.

I learned my sarcasm from my Dad!!!! LMAO!!! I don’t even think that I had to learn this one. It was more like genetically transmitted. I didn’t realise that I had that innate trait until later in life, a growing self aware adult. I realised that my family “language” wasn’t a widely acknowleged/appreciated one. Strength & Weakness.

I learned epicureanism from my Dad. His vain streak couldn’t hide if it tried. It showed in his love for jewellery, accessories, fashion. Whatever swag i have, i got from him. He would throw a random house-party every chance he got. It is probably the reason I shy away from hosting now but I love it too. We his family bore the brunt of doing all the work, but it probably meant new clothes, lots to eat and drink and a chance to see your family friends and relatives.

On this lovely 23rd day of March ’23, I recognise the absolute privilege it has been to be raised and nurtured by my dad. He is imperfect and flawed but I am grateful that God chose him for me. Even more, I am grateful that he has been preserved in good health and wealth, and through him, God gave me my mother, my sisters and my brother.

I am not sure how to proceed with this sudden realisation that my funky pops is now technically an old man. I mean, i noticed the age tell on him some more everytime I went home to visit, but I was somewhat in denial of what it meant. I am in denial no more.

Cheers to contributing to his zeal to live each day pleasantly!

Mazel tov!

The year of COVIK -ONE – NINE

2020 was a year that I haven’t totally grasped its depth. and now that it is 2 years past, its looking like I am dwelling in the past.

BUT 2020 WAS THAT YEAR!

Gaddem!

Do you know that in Hollywood movies, Producers and directors would make us picture a world stop and we are flabbergasted watching the actors play the role in a controlled environment. Living in fear, death at every toll of the bell, closed borders, lost means of livelihood – We watch the actors grapple through this reality and we cheer at their victory and even cry with them at their pain moments.

Now, tell me this- have you highfived yourself since surviving 2020?

Do you not realise that you are the heroine in this blockbuster that is your life?

Guy! By the grace of God, we have lived through the Pandemic of 2020 and have even seen 2 (almost 2) more years.

We are walking through airports, bus stations, train stations, mainroads, streets again and this gives me immense joy. I don’t even mind that I still have to wear nose masks and that my palm is smelling different because of the darned hand sanitisers they force on me. I am just happy to be living in the semblance of normal.

Mar 29,2020 -I remember the date because its my adanne’s birthday on the 30th. its a Sunday and I was supposed to move into my new apartment on that day. True to type, my landlord doesn’t have my apartment ready enough for me to move in, but I’m able to leave my property in the apartment. Slo I do that and return to my friends apartment. Then comes the announcement of the LOCKDOWN.

At the time that we went to bed, I’m not sure any one of us knew the depth of what the Lockdown was to bring. For one, my sister would be spending her birthday alone. It was a milestone and it was just there, not even passing like a normal day because most people were still figuring out/finding out what the lockdown really meant.

In 2020, we were the Sandra Bullock in Bird box after she makes it to that house where she found refuge when we all huddled in one house/family for company.

We were Will Smith in I,Robot everytime we depended on our phone to help us get food, move around, entertain.

We were Amandla in Everything, Everything, when we threw E-parties.. Weddings, babyshowers and bridal showers void of physical contact. Even the heroes of Five feet apart had more chances of physical contact.

Global Supply chain halted, and you would think the it would have prepared us for the Suez canal drama in 2021.

We are all Real life Action Heroes, and I haven’t fully grasped the depth of it.

Main Character syndrome

I sneezed a lot today because I imagine Paul’s meeting ran late and he kept on mentioning my name as a reason why he had to go.

I missed my step walking out of the restaurant because everyone was staring at me. I could feel their eyes but I didn’t bother to meet any gaze. I was texting Ada directions.

I don’t remember who that person who waved from the passing cab was but they seemed excited to have seen me, so I waved back.

This is how life behind rose coloured lenses look.

Of course, the sneezing couldn’t have been because the musty air in the room.

Nor the stares because the label of the new clothes were hanging outside.

Maybe if I noticed anyone outside of me, I’d have seen that there was a couple behind me who was waving their daughter who had just gotten into a cab.

But what’s that to anyone, I am the star of this show that is my life.