Posted in Let's Talk

Balancing Your Passion & Reality

It wasn’t till my fourth year in the university that I understood what Mechanical Engineering was all about and started enjoying it. It took me four years before I found purpose in what I was studying and even then I still wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough. Before then all I wanted to do was study and graduate with good grades in a professional course. A Professional course according to my dad was a course that had way better opportunities (medical doctors, lawyers, engineers . . . you get my drift).

I was blessed with a sharp mind right from a tender age. I didn’t need to study hard to pass exams and when I did study, I aced my papers. But university was a different ball game. Everything changed in my third year when I had my first carryover (a student’s way of saying you failed a course). I had never had to retake any course before, I had got bad grades before but never low enough to have to resit the exam.

It was a tough blow, a bitter pill to swallow. It should have been a bit consoling as my group of friends and a portion of the class had also fail but my third year was actually my most focused year. I read hard, I attended lectures and submitted all assignments, so it made no sense whatsoever. It was a bruise to my ego, a dent to my record and that was when I started to question everything.

Why was I studying a course I didn’t really understand?

Was I doing it just to please my father??

How the hell do I get out of all this???

Do I have to start all over again????

The questions just came coming. It took 6 months in an industrial plant to change my perception about me , not just my course of study but ME. I realized I loved to work outdoors, I was curious about how machinery worked, I enjoyed working in teams. I started to fix the puzzle together and I realized that I had no problem with Mechanical Engineering, all I needed was to connect something real to all the theories in class. It ws like opening a door I didn’t even notice was there.

Now is Mechanical Engineering my passion? My dream career? Let’s not rush. After school I served and oh did I love it. I was posted to a village and it was both fulfilling and a joy to give hope to people who had so little belief in their ability to be something more that what their immediate environment offered them just but teaching. Service year ended and I got into network marketing and damn did I have fun. Did someone ask how will he ever connect the all three? Errrrm . . . I’m coming. Know that I made money, I lost money,  but most importantly I learnt lessons and I gained experiences. And now, because of these experiences I have an idea of what I want to do with my life and I am working towards it daily. I am not throwing Mechanical Engineering away, niether will I give up teaching but whose says I can’t add Project management to the mix, or motivational speaking.

“Why is this dude bickering?” you might ask. I know I would. Well I am trying to say I don’t think there is a fine line between what your passion is and how reality comes at you. If you have it all figured out and you are living your dream, thumb up to you, when I grow up I want to be like you lol. . . BUT if you are still figuring it out please and please don’t stop. Do not let your passion and dream blind you to what is happening in reality but do not be so occupied with the reality of life as not to follow what makes you happy.

It maybe what you do for a living and that would be great. But it may be something off such as cooking, grilling, writing, motivational talks, acting, drawing, singing, something not relating to what you went to school for or what you do for a living. Find time and pursue it.

Someone once said to me, find what you love doing, invest in it, bless others with it and watch how with the proper tools, it will bring you more than you bargained for.

. . . . . abi how una see am? Will look forward to your thoughts in the comments section. Stay safe people

Posted in Monday Muse

You Do Have a Choice

“Duuuude, you just don’t get” Nkiru said as she sat on the kitchen slab. “You can’t tell me you have total control? It is not possible, we are human”.

I was in my house, playing perfect host once again to hmm … (I still don’t know what she is) … Nkiru my friend/soon-to-be-girlfriend (if I ever got the balls to ask her out that is). She had got me wrapped in one of those arguments I try to avoid. The only reason I was not ending was because she argued fairly. It was a bit difficult focusing on the argument with such a pretty face. I forced myself to turn back to the sausages I was dicing.

“See, I get but . . . . .” I started.

“But nothing” she quickly interjected. “you can’t tell me you can control how you feel? or choose who you fall in love with or are attracted to”.

I shook my head as I poured the diced sausages with the onions and pepper into the indomie. She was missing my point.

“I still don’t get when girls play that line. You can’t choose who you love” I said as I stirred the noodles. She might have just come to hangout but I had no plans of slacking. I took a sip of the cold water on the table.

“Oya now, did you choose to trip for me?” she said out of nowhere. I almost spat out the water. “Or better yet, despite everything why can’t I stop how I feel bout you”.

Okay, now i was just plain dizzy. What was aunty saying? Was she using me as a point of contact to some other guy? Dude get a grip.

“Say what now” I blurted out.

“Nice one Ikenna”, I could hear my friend, Gbodi’s voice in my head. It always came when I was making an ass of myself.

“Don’t act dumb Ik” she said getting off the slab and taking over from me. I then noticed the noodles were about to start burning as the water had dried. “don’t worry I’ve got it” she said as I tried to take over.

“We have been flirting for ages but have both been fighting back” She smiled as she spoke.

“Exactly, we held back” I said trying to stir it back to the argument eventhough what I just said didn’t make the slightest sense. “That was a choice”.

“And how is that going for you?” she asked as she turned off the gas. “it’s ready” she indicated to the meal.

“Thanks” I said and proceeded to serving both of us. It was quiet for a while as we took our plates into my room and sat down, each analyzing what had happened, what it meant and what would come next.

“So, how is your ‘choice’ going for you?” she broke the silence.

“Well, hard . . . .” I started.

“Exactly, all you are doing is fighting and you are calling it a choice” she said. she put down her food and got into her ‘I am ready fr this argument’ pose. “As much as I try, I can’t help feeling the way I do about you”.

“Erm sorry to side track, but why are you fighting it?” I asked. If we were going to go down this road, I better make good use and get as much information as I can.

“Gosh because I have so much baggage, and I know if we get serious I would just end up messing things up, hurting you and you are such a nice guy. You don’t deserve that . . . . .” she kept on talking but you know that thing that happens in movies where the girl said something and it touches the guy so much that every other thing is oblivious to him.

I just looked at her. An there in laid what I was trying to say.

“. . . . . I care about you deeply but my past relationship has made me make decisions. Decisions I know will affect my next relationship” she said. Her forehead was a wrinkled up, she looked frustrated. I couldn’t tell if it was because of how she felt pouring out her heart or if it was her confusion as to why I looked so calm.

“You talk about choice but I didn’t want to end up like this, different situations rubbed off me badly” she said. the look on her face begged for understanding. I just looked on.

“Say something damn it” she threw a pillow at me. Yep here was my cue.

“Normally I will be all sweet and nice and play it safe but what the hell” I said sitting up. “I totally disagree with almost everything you have said” she stared at me. I took that as permission to carry on.

“Let us say I agree with the ‘we don’t choose who we fall for’, let us say I agree that fighting the feelings we have had was also not a choice. But sweetheart I will not agree that you have been so damaged you cant love again or care as much, or give your heart as much” she opened her mouth to speak but i held my hand up.

“You had your say, it is my turn” I smiled. “you made that choice. when you gave your whole to your last relationship, you made the choice. when you decided to take the risk, you made the choice. when you decided it hurt too much and you were so scared of it happening again that you said no more giving my all, my dear you made that choice”.

I looked at her squarely in the eye, “Nobody has the right to make you happy or sad, or mad or make you cry unless you let them”.

She looked at me, I could see she was trying to understand.

“When you first met me, how many times did you laugh at my jokes?” I asked. “You decided to warm yourself to me and then you cared enough to laugh or to frown depending on what I did. Just because it is subconscious doesn’t mean it is not a choice” I smiled at her.

We had finished eating and were playing with the scraps on our plate. I stood up, picked my plate and hers to go to the kitchen. when I reached the door I turned back and came to her.

“I am going to be as real to you as i possibly can and I really hope you don’t take what I am about to say the wrong way” she nodded as if to say I could go on.

“You not letting me in, or feeling you will sabotage what we could possibly have is not on your ex, it is a choice you have made. I know this because I have had shitty relationships in the past. I choose not to change just because one girl couldn’t appreciate me. I chose not to punish the next girl I will be with just because I had a couple of bad experiences” I raised my eye brow as if that would make what I said sink in.

“So if you feel we being together can’t work, fine by me. But don’t kid yourself that it was ot of your hand” I smiled as I headed to the door.

“Oh, and by the way, since we are on the topic, I always wanted something special with you. If this doesn’t work out I ain’t settling for friends. Being your friend was suppose to be bonus, not the main deal” with that I left her to go wash the dishes.

Posted in Quotes & Poems

What If We Were Really True

What if we were really true
And said everything we thought
Could we then stop feeling blue
Feeling every day that we just fought

What if we were really true
And showed just how we felt
Maybe then we could sail into
The sky and Orion’s belt

What if we were really true
Would there be any depression then?
Would the world be kind and free from sin
No one wishing to flee within

What if we were really true
And showed what we really think
Could we then see the total view?
Of those around us who seem to sink

What if we were really true
And showed each passing day
What it really means to be happy
But only if we pray

What if we were really true
And looked God in the face
Never trying, never lying
Never wishing we were dying

What if we were really true
We did all things good and well
Can we become like Christ?
Only time will tell

By Leah

Posted in Other Authors

When Love Goes Sour

I met him four years ago. He was handsome and tall and spoke English like an Englishman. He played the piano and someone had introduced him to me as a pianist because I sang. (Now that I think about it, maybe we would have made the perfect couple, like my parents)
We seemed to hit it off right from day one, talking about everything and nothing and laughed late into the night. We read together, went to class together, went to church together, and choir rehearsals and every other place there was to go to together. We shared everything (well almost everything), our dreams and fears and goals and failures. We had a whole life ahead of us. I love words: poetry, small notes, letters, any form they came and he knew how to give me these little surprises that warmed my heart and I’d stay up late some nights, reading them and giggling like an idiot.
He was responsible, strong, disciplined, funny, intelligent, handsome, and he had a relationship with God. I loved him. I was willing to go to any length for him, willing to stay with him when it was hard to get up from bed to face the troubles of day, willing to stick with him even when I knew he didn’t even have enough for himself, talk less sharing with me. You can say that if I had a second chance at life and I had to pick who I wanted to be with, I would pick him over and over and over again. Not that he didn’t have terrible flaws, but something in me just seemed to overlook them. Note that those flaws were his undoing because I’m a kick-ass lady *winks*
So three years down the line and three years of his persistence and I finally said yes. I thought it had be electric and it will send butterflies running round my tummy but it didn’t. It was quiet. He was strangely and unusually quiet. It was a quiet walk home and I assumed (wrong move that was: you must never assume for a guy). So I assumed that he probably was so happy that finally we get to be together and didn’t want me to see how stupid he’d look if he actually grinned and expressed himself. Boy was I wrong!
A lot of times we tend to look at the faults of the other person and analyze what they did wrong and what they did that hurt you and then we capitalize on it. But the truth is that sometimes, we might have had our own part to play in coming apart. I understand that at that point in time, we are blinded by our hurt and anger and frustration that all we see faults.
When he broke up with me, I felt like my world just came crashing down. It was worse than the feeling you get when a door gets slammed in your face. I wanted to cry but I just didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention. I took a bus back to my place and while walking, my heart started to beat faster and I started to hyperventilate as I began replaying all the scenes in my head. The break up scene, the words he said to me, the insults he doused on me, the poems I sent to him while trying to make things works and his thoughtless nasty reaction to it. I felt like the biggest fool of the century. I tried to pull myself together. I remember getting to my room, changing into more casual clothes and dashing off to my mentor’s room. I got there and broke down in tears. She seemed surprised to see me cry and she knew it was over. At that point nothing she seemed to say made me feel better. She talked about me finding a better man and how God worked like this sometimes and how God was prepping me for something even more beautiful.
All I could think about was nothing but the pain I was feeling. I felt empty. I felt like the oxygen in the air wasn’t enough to breathe anymore. I thought about all my compromises and mistakes, all my principles that I threw in the trash can to make him happy and I realized how stupid I was for spending the last cash I had on me buying him a present on Valentine’s Day only for him to confess to me later that he bought the scanty chocolate bars and flimsy card he got for me out of duty! I stooped low and made a fool of myself and I cried every other night after that. I had sleepless nights and long days and bouts of headaches and fever, even heart contractions sometimes. Sometimes I groaned out of my sleep and stayed awake through the night. Gradually as the slow days passed by, I started to smile again and they were sincere, I didn’t have to fake a laugh and I could even chuckle.
I honestly cannot tell you that there was one thing I did in particular that changed everything for me. I’ll say it was a series of actions born out of a decision to stop hurting and whining and crying and move on with my life. I didn’t know how that was going to happen but I knew, well at least a part of me wanted to leave that chapter. I’m grateful to heartbreak songs like Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri and Man who can’t be Moved by The Script. I’™m also grateful to my cute bear, Sebastian (yes I know it’s a goofy name) for soaking in all those tears.
God told me on one of those days when I went off into the quiet to talk to him, to make a list of ten things I loved about myself. I thought hard for a while then I started to write and got stuck on number 5. Then I knew I had to work on my esteem there. It may seem all calculated but it wasn’t as easy then as I speak now. So I started to take some steps to really move on. I was tired of hoping that he’ll come back. So I understand when someone says the best way to not get hurt is to never expect anything.
I took to journaling. I poured out my thoughts, my frustration, my anger, my pain and when I ran out of words because words were never enough, I would sit there and cry and draw little doodles and smileys or just scribble jargons on my journal.
Then my friend gave me a book Called a Break-Up because it’s Broken by Greg Behrendt. The title alone made me cry. I never imagined that there will be an end to us but here it was staring me in the face. So I stared at the book for a while. It wasn’t a christian book nevertheless, as I flipped through the pages of the book, I knew my healing process had begun. I poured over the book all day. I had sticky notes glued to the wall right above my head rest on my bed. There were different ones. One told me ten things to do in place of calling my ex, one told me my bestfriend was me and there’s nobody who could make me feel better other than myself, there was another to remind me how amazing I was regardless of what I did or didn’t do in the relationship. There was another that said to me;
your life is not a yard sale. It’s time to get rid of all the broken stuff that you’ve been lugging around for days, months, and maybe even years, and make the bold decision to start looking for stuff that works.
There are no hard and fast rules to recovering from one. I won’t take you down the spiral of hurt feelings and of crushed hopes and hearts because that will only make you cry again and hate him or hate yourself for letting it happen. You might have even stalked him for a while, hacking into his e-mail account or asking your mutual friends about what’s new in his life or going to his favorite restaurant or hanging out in places where you know you’re sure to see him. That would only hurt you even more especially when you find out that it seems he has moved on. (girl, you know those things that we do.)
I cannot carefully craft out a healing pattern or process as it were, if I did maybe I would have tagged it getting past the heartbreak. But I’ll say this: moving away from this stage of your life is born out of a decision; the decision to be happy, the decision to refuse to let anyone and anything put you down; the decision to love again and love hard because without love, life tastes bland and success is empty.
So change into a cute red dress, dab on some powder (I’m so grateful to concealer too, that make-up tool works wonders), put on rouge or orange lipstick and take yourself out on a nice dinner. Treat yourself to all the comfort you can afford,and don’t for a split second give room to hurt or pain or thoughts that might make you cry and I promise that with every step you take at being happy, you’ll find yourself going farther and farther away from everything that has held you down and you’ll embrace the beauty of being single and of course love when it comes along your way again BECAUSE IT WILL.

 

Written by Angela Adebiyi.

Posted in Uncategorized

INTRODUCING MAE STYLING

So this is me dabbing into fashion. A friend and her partner came up with a brilliant idea and I decided to support them with a bit of publicity. The post is their creation and I hope you don’t only read but you check them out. I bring to you all MAE Styling.

THE NEXT PHASE IN THE EVOLUTION OF THE AFRICAN FASHION INDUSTRY

Putting this article together was much harder than I thought. There were so many things I thought I needed to say but at the same time I wanted to be concise and not bore anyone with a rather long diatribe, bearing in mind that common phrase about humans having an attention span shorter than that of a goldfish. Go Figure!

Let me start by saying, this is not one of those, ‘I’ve always loved fashion as a kid’ narratives. Rather this is a narrative inspired by the desire to solve problems and satisfy needs that my partner and I believe are commonly shared.

MAE Styling is a Platform that seeks to showcase the works of some of Africa’s finest Fashion Designers. We intend to create growth for African fashion brands by helping them establish new sales channels (both local and international) while satisfying shoppers need for indigenous fashion items that are unique and affordable.This is a rather fancy way of putting it so let me break it down a little by creating some context.

My partner and I have one thing in common, our desire to see small businesses thrive (you can learn more about this by visiting www.fure.com.ng. Plus, if you have been bitten by the entrepreneurship bug, you probably should click on that link and then thank me later). Looking at our local fashion industry, we discovered 2 interesting things:

  • Most of our local fashion brands do not evolve into big popular names (like Zara or River Island or Next) due to so many different reasons, one of them being poor marketing and branding tactics.
  • Most of the locally produced fashion items are too expensive especially when compared with their foreign alternatives. So even when one wants to #BuyNaija, the price tag on the item becomes a major deterrent.

Our attempt to, dare I say, play the hero and solve these problems led to the birth of MAE STYLING.

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So, again, this is a narrative that was inspired by the desire to solve problems and satisfy needs.

After months of hard work and conversations, careful thought and planning as well as collaborations with the different designers (not forgetting all the squabbles over design and fabric and fist fights over finishing LOL!), we’ve launched the platform with a limited number of fashion pieces specifically targeted at the style-conscious woman looking to stretch her wardrobe naira,and we can only hope that you love these items as much as we do.

Order these and others by clicking:- Instagram // Website // SMS & Whatsapp: (+234)90-5-8639024

For more information, send email to: info@maestyling.com

Jennifer Melah

Co-Founder/Partner MAE Styling

Posted in Let's Talk

What Is It?

Every heard one of that story where an old lady differentiates between the older generation and ours? How the old woman tells her granddaughter that the difference is “we where taught that when something gets broken, you try to fix it instead of throwing it away”.
That story hit home a few days back when I stumbled upon a tweet. Trust me to get creative with it.

Mr. Bako turned to us from the chalk board and smiled.

“So how did it go?” He asked.

Almost immediately the class went rowdy as everyone wanted to be heard first. Mr. Bako smiled. He was a smallish man in his mid thirties, dark, quiet, stern (I wouldn’t like to call him strict, he was way too cool). He let us enjoy our excitement for a while then raised a hand. in less than ten seconds the class went silent. It always amazed me how he could do that. We where is SS3. Top of the Secondary school food chain, teenagers with crazy hormones and a nack for challenging authority. but for Mr. Bako, we behaved. I think we really, truly respected him because fear didn’t work on us. Oops, I am going off.

We raised our hands excitedly. his charming smile came on again.

“Yes, Abraham”. I smiled and stood up.

“Sir, I still stand on my ground. Love is a feeling” I said boldly. He nodded. almost immediately Joyce shot back.

“No sir, I disagree, it is a choice”. She had her yes fixed on me as she said it. I think I even saw a slight wink. I was forced to smile.

This topic had come up at the end in our last Economics class. Oh you thought Mr. Bako was like a school counselor? Nope, he is our Economics teacher and after class, lets say he is our teenage-guidance-support-system. Everybody attends his classes.

“Ooooh, I see some tension here” Mr. Bako said teasing, the class filled with teenage giggles.

“How many agree with Abraham?” I sat at the back and had a good view of the class, I was glad to see a lot of people raised their hands.

“And is it fair to say the rest supports Joyce?” there was a small chorus of affirmation.

“Okay Abraham, let us hear you” he said looking at his watch. I stood up, cleared my throat and prepared to convince.

“Sir love is an emotion, it is how we FEEL towards someone, our parents, our siblings, even our friends” I said the last part looking at Joyce. Damn she wasn’t looking, but apparently everyone else was and the cheering and teasing started. I was grateful for my dark skin or I would have turned bright pink.

“Settle down, Abraham has the right to ‘love’ his friends now” I opened my mouth in shock as Mr. Bako teased me. He chuckled for a little bit then raised his hand for silence.

“Go on Abraham” he encouraged.

“Sir, that is it. It really is that simple. Love is a feeling” I said boldly. In my teenage mind my explanation was top notch. I had got my confidence back and seeing a number of nods in agreement with me only made it stronger.

“Okay, love is a feeling, Joyce I see you have something to say. We have ten more minutes so go ahead” Mr. Bako gave the floor to her.

She stood up elegantly, this was not a debate for her, it wasn’t a chance to win one for the girls or whatever. She just wanted to make her point.

“Sir, after last class I thought about it at home, and I asked a number of people about it” she started. Mr. Bako smiled and nodded for her to continue.

“My mom, my sister, and my aunt who just had a divorce. They all have more experience in that area and they all said love is a choice” She said.

“They all said that it is a choice. It is a conscious commitment. It is something you choose to make work everyday with a person who has chosen the same thing” she paused. “My mom and aunt said that at one point in their marriage, the ‘feeling of love’ had vanished or faded and they were not happy”.

I took a quick scan and even the so-called tough guys in class were paying rapt attention.

“For my mom, she said when things are bad, she chooses to open communication, identify what is broken and how to fix it, and choose to recreate something worth falling in love with” Joyce stated, “she made a CHOICE”.

“And your aunt?” Mr. Bako was interested.

“Well”, Joyce said looking a bit gloom, “my aunt chose to walk away”.

She sat down and almost immediately, mini debates in hushed voices started. everyone agreeing or disagreeing with me and Joyce.

“Well folks there you have it” Mr. Bako said packing his books.

“Sir?” a voice called out.

“Yes Peanut” Mr. Bako answered a short boy sitting a roll behind me on my right. Another cool thing about Mr. Bako, he knew most of our nicknames.

“Sir, what says you?” Peanut asked with a smile.

“Well, even I have learnt something today. I used to think Love was a feeling too, but now I see it transcends into a choice” He smiled. when he noticed the confused faces he added, “feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation. When you make that choice to stay, you will work towards it succeeding”.

With that he walked out of the class amidst more discuss.

Posted in Let's Talk

Gender Equality

“I can’t believe you just said that” Dimtang shouted, wow she was actually irritated. Looking across to see the smirk on his face, I knew Godwin knew what he was doing. Oh man here we go again.

As one always wanting to play the perfect host, I got some friends over to my place just to hang out and somehow; maybe due to the fact that the electricity company had taken power AGAIN or it was just what happened when a group of guy and girls come together; an argument began.

“I can’t believe you have refused to see reason, you are smarter than that” Godwin replied nursing his drink.

“And you are too much of a gentleman that it is shocking you would say this” Dimtang fired back.

“Hey”. I turned to my left to see Gbodi resting casually on the couch, his head resting on Chidinma’s lap as she was having a filled day poking it.

“How far?” I asked.

“You don’t think it is time to bring out the pop corn and drinks? I want to enjoy this” Gbodi grinned what we called his ‘evil’ grin which always came when he was feeling mischievous.

I looked round the room, Ikenna was getting ready to jump into the argument and I knew Chidinma would definitely side Dimtang, girl power and all that. I smiled at Gbodi, gave him the thumbs up and left for the kitchen.

“. . . wait what did you expect?” I could hear Chidinma say as I walked back in, one hand held two deep bowls filled with popcorn and the other two plastic coke bottles. Godwin must have said another statement that had made Dimtang even more disappointed than she already was. I had a feeling she would soon be out of disappointments to give. She added “he is a guy now”.

“Pop corn and drinks in the kitchen oh” I shouted out. Of course I was ignored. Gbodi sat up and grabbed a bowl from me, his face filled with gratitude and excitement.

“Okay let us look at it logically please” Godwin said trying to sound as calm as possible. “you girls want gender equality right?” Dimtang nodded, Chidinma just looked at him. “You claim you can do what guys do but that is not true”.

“Oya name just one thing” Chidinma challenged.
“Una no fit give girl belle” Ikenna jumped in jokingly. Gbodi and I fought hard to hold in our laughter.

“Well men can’t carry a child for nine months either so one-one. Besides science has found a way around that” Chidinma fired back and turned to Godwin with that look that said ‘I can do this all day’.

“I don’t see Ladies opening doors for me or pull a seat for me at a restaurant . . .” Godwin started

“. . . but that is a man’s duty” Dimtang interrupted. That was all Godwin needed.

“Oh, it is a man’s job, but somehow it isn’t a woman’s job to cook food? Why is it that you girls make noise about this gender equality shit only when it suits you?” Godwin felt he had the upper hand.

“You say gender equality but still belittle a man because his wife earns more than he does and so that makes her bread winner, let me guess it is his duty right? He is suppose to be the breadwinner now abi? You all make it seem like men are devils, na una go carry us go eatry, shops, clubs and we are to pay the bills or else ‘he ain’t man enough’ but at the office chants of ‘gender equality’ is the order of the day and SOMEHOW that is not biased? Please give me a break” he said.

“Kai Godwin which Abuja babe have you been following” Ikenna teased. Gbodi and I busted out laughing.

“Baba for the babes” Gbodi whispered to me.

“So, you will let a lady open the door for you?” Chidinma who had been quiet spoke up.

“No that is not …”

“No, let us analyze it now” Chidinma stopped him, “You are okay letting a woman provide for the family? Your testosterone will allow you?”

“Or maybe he would like his wife to just sit at home, giving birth and cooking” Dimtang added.

“God forbid, I cannot marry anybody that dumb”. And just like a flash the girls had the upper hand.

“Eheeeeeen!!! So you don’t want a mumu as wife but she will go to work, LIKE YOU, bring money home, LIKE YOU, be exhausted and tired … (Ikenna joined in this time) … LIKE YOU and yet she will still cook, change diapers, do homework, and all that” Chidinma said, “and somehow that sounds fair to you?”

“A ah, why are you taking it personal now” Godwin could feel the heat.

“Men just feel we are here to be at your beck and call, because bible says women be submissive that automatically means be salves now” Dimtang joined in “It freaking pisses me off.

“Now that is the one that irritate the shit out of me” I was surprised to hear Gbodi’s voice. Funny enough it seemed the whole room was.

“It grinds my gears when, just because you are passionate about something, you assume the worse and generalize. Who said all men treat their wives or girlfriends that way? Who says all men see women as tools?” I had never seen Gbodi so rattled up.

“I said I wasn’t going to say a word but when you generalize, when you make everyone look bad is that fair? Bible says women submit to your husband, you forget it also says men love your wife, so if I love my wife why will I not notice that ah today this woman is tired oh, maybe I should prepare something for her or even take her out, that is if I am the type that can’t cook”.

“Nooo, sit down there and tell me there are not men that do those things?” he asked mockingly.

“This world was created in a particular type of way for things to function properly. Equality can’t work because of the simple fact that there cannot be two captains on a boat. Seek fairness because in truth, you can’t do what a man does” he ended, then sat back and sipped his coke.

“I’ll drink to that” Godwin raised his glass smiling victorious.

The above write up is an act of imaginations and I hope you enjoyed it.
The arguments, fights and debates of Gender Equality have if not anything, increased these past few years. On Tv, radio and social media. I personally feel the pursuit of fairness across both gender is a great cause but what of gender equality? I would love to hear you opinions on this topic in the comment section below.

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It’s Been . . . .

It has been exactly 3 months I dropped a post here. Hey people, how has life been treating you?
As for me, the hustle continues. There have been distractions, there have been excuses. Writing has brought new ventures, the pursuit of an Engineering career has caused one to pause for a bit.
Doubt on the importance and impact one Blunt Nigerian has comes into question . . .
THEN
The notifications start rolling in.
First, just notifications about other blogs I follow, then a few likes on old post made, then comments, then people start to follow, more notifications about people following despite no new content.
Finally the messages start rolling in. Messages from readers from Facebook, messages of encouragement for friends on BBM, messages of inquire on WhatsApp and a couple of insult from Tola’s fans on twitter (still love you all).
Its been exactly 3 months I dropped a post here. Hey people, lets see what comes next!!!

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The Perfect Misfit

One of those night when I hit a cord, light bulb . . . brain tingling, that sort of thing. I hope you enjoy this piece.

How_to_break_up_thumb

He watched her go, his chest was so heavy. For the first time in his life making the right decision never felt so wrong.

It wasn’t easier to bear despite the fact that she taken the decision, it still hurt. Sarah was one of a kind and he knew it. Why did life have to be so complicated? Why did society, religion and family have to cause so much discord?

He never thought he would love her, it was just suppose to be a fling. But from one lunch date to an evening at the cinema and that was how activities rolled in and he got to know her. As much as he fought it, with every smile and every laughter of hers he fell deeper in love. When he told her his age, thoughts of ‘just a fling’ were long gone. But she couldn’t she had said. They had to end it.

“What would people say?” she cried.

“But age is just a number” he pleaded.

“Please let us not kid ourselves” she insisted. They had fought, made up and fought again. At the end he new there was no point. And so he decided to give in. They had lunch in the same place he had first seen her, a goodbye lunch she called it. It was the only thing he never told her, that was one secret she would never know.

 

—   —   —

 

His friends had always told him that his love for Ijoma was going to put him in trouble. It was all friendly humor till today. He still could not believe it.

“Here this will numb you a bit” Emeka said passing him glass of scotch.

“Her popsi just flipped, as in just went off on me” he said still in shock.

“Bros but we been tell you now”.

“Still on still guy look at me, what more did he want?”

His friends were not lying. Repeatedly they had told him but he felt he was too charming to be pushed aside, he was successful, he was wealthy, but most importantly he took Ijoma as his queen. What more could a father want?

“You are not Igbo. Her popsi na all these old school Igbo chiefs, tradition is important to him” Emeka explained.

“In this day and age?”

Tribalism seemed so ancient. He couldn’t understand why anyone will hold in to things of the past. He had left the house with Ijoma crying profusely as her father banned her from ever seeing him again.

“So all this while he was the person? An outsider? MBAA!!! You will not bring shame on us” her father had said.

He took another swing at his glass. Where was he to start from now???

 

—   —   —

 

She couldn’t stop crying as she sat, cold and alone. There was no point? What was she suppose to fight? How was she supposed to fight her family? Yesterday seemed so far away now. Yesterday everything was perfect, everything was ready. They had spoken about being serious. Bayo was so old school. He didn’t believe in going on one knee, she had always called him her ‘bush Yoruba love’ because of things like that, he had always been blunt.

“But come haven’t we done this lovey lovey long enough? I think we should tell our parents our intentions oh” he had said as he ate lunch.

“And what exactly are our intentions?” She teased.

“A ah, to jump over third mainland bridge now” he replied with a serious face.

“Ah Bayo” she laughed.

“Shebi you want to play now” he smiled. “But seriously you know we are perfect. Let’s do this”.

“Let’s do this love” she repeated excitedly.

She had rushed home to tell her mom. The prayers had been answered. Finally her mom would let her rest. She never once stop to think, didn’t even consider that there will be any opposition. Till the meeting with her parents and their questions began to roll in.

The words nearly shut her heart off when her father said them, but it was her mother’s tears that finished it off. How was she to tell him?

“But Tomi how could you?” her mother had asked sitting on her bed after the meeting. “How can you say you didn’t think we would mind?”

“But mummy what has religion got to do with who I love?”

“TOMI!!! A Muslim? How could you think your father would accept you marrying a Muslim? Abi will he convert to Christianity?”

She watched her mother leave her room shaking her head in tears. She couldn’t face him she knew he wouldn’t even consider it and she didn’t even want him to, she hugged her pillow as fresh tears started to flow again.

 

I am young, single and nowhere near the stage where I can say I know enough about marriage or have the wisdom to say what is right or wrong but are AGE, TRIBE or RELIGION good enough reasons to break people who fit? In this era where divorce is like signing a pay check, breakups are like everyday activities and relationships have lost focus and purpose, when two people who fit so perfectly come together, is it really fair to dictate what criteria they should follow?