The Price to Pay

Biola reflected on the recent events that she had had to deal with. Her life had been upended in a way she never imagined would happen. She thought that she had things figured out until that fateful day. She had been so consumed by her career and getting ahead that she neglected everything else and everyone who was dear to her, until her world came crashing down.

She got home, late as usual. I’m home she called out but emptiness came back at her. She went to her bedroom, something was different, but she couldn’t figure it out immediately. Then she went to give her a son a kiss, something she did every night. But he wasn’t there. Then she noticed, a lot was gone from his room. She ran back to her room and opened the wardrobe. A good lot of her husband’s clothes were gone. She called, frantically, but he didn’t answer his phone. She was in a panic, she wondered why. She saw them in the morning before she left for work and all seemed well. Or so she thought.

Her husband was everything she had hoped for; supportive, loving, manly and he held his own. He had things going for him as well, but drew the line when it came to his family. He poured his all. He never missed any event his son was to attend, he showed up for his wife’s events and she was so proud of him. He hinted at her taking him for granted many times but was one who shied away from confrontation, so he would say his piece then move on. As work got more demanding, there were more late nights and she was grateful to him, as he catered to the home front. 

Can we get past this?

I think I have just the right person for you. You are smart and beautiful, I wonder why no one has taken you off the market yet. 

Boma was on Vee's case, they had been friends for a long time and she had been married for 15 years, a feat they were currently celebrating. Vee was beautiful and successful but this part of her life had been on a standstill for as long as Boma could remember. Vee was a loyal friend, as she stood there attending to guests, Boma could not help but be grateful for this friend of hers. The anniversary party turned out to be much more fun than they anticipated.

By the end of the day when they all settled down, the ladies did the usual, analysing different scenarios and laughing at some. It was always fun for them. All of a sudden, with a matter of fact look on Boma's face, I meant what I said earlier today she said to Vee. I do know someone I think you might like. Vee was not opposed to being set up, so asked for all the details. 

Something remarkable 2

In case you missed the last part, please read it here.

Tare had never spoken a word of Spanish…where was she going to start from? They had talked of her taking Spanish classes, but she was overwhelmed with everything. She was thankful every day that she and her husband spoke the same local language, when she was tired of trying, she would easily speak Yoruba to him instead of English so that no one would understand what she was saying. The big shock for her was how they walked everywhere. Unlike her life in Nigeria where she would jump into her car and go where she wanted, she had to study the train and bus times and plan around those schedules. Manual labour was very expensive so she had to learn to do everything herself. Her husband helped when he could but with his work schedule and knowing that that was their only source of income, she could not complain.

Winter was approaching, so was the delivery. Having a first child and having to deal with everything on her own made her miserable. She spent a lot of time thinking as her husband was not there for her to share these fears with. She was not ready to speak to her mum about these concerns. Her mum would not only get worried but would blow up Seyi’s phone, which might just do more harm than good. Seyi came home tired and somewhat uninterested in all her baby talk most days; she quickly learnt not to bother him with it.

Her bundle of joy arrived one fine snowy day, after 20 hours of labour. The pain is not something anyone can ever prepare you for. But like they say, once you have the baby in your hands, you realise that the pain was worth it. Tare moved into the spare bedroom so that the baby’s constant crying would not bother her husband. He was involved at first but that started to wear out. Communication between the couple was strained and Tare easily focused on her baby, her only source of joy. Postpartum depression kicked in and was worsened by Tare juggling everything. Learning to be a mother on her own, constantly on the phone with her mum when she has no clue what to do. And having to deal with Seyi’s attitude, Tare started to feel unloved, inadequate and her self-confidence dropped all the way to the floor.

Something remarkable

A notification popped up on her phone, it was a friend request on Facebook. This person looked familiar, but she could not place where/if they had met. They had so many mutual friends, so why not she thought to herself. She accepted his request.

He sent messages, but she did not feel inclined to respond at first. A few days later, he buzzed again so she thought she would be polite. Before long, she realised that he drew her in, the guy knew how to hold a conversation. He made her laugh and their banter flowed naturally. She looked forward to chatting with him, which they did daily.

Tare caught herself imagining what it would be like to meet him. The topic came up and they finally set a date for him to visit. She was nervous, she had butterflies in her tummy, but it turned out to be such a beautiful time. She laughed like she had not done in such a long time. There was a strong attraction between them and on that front, she had not been getting any action.

The journey to motherhood 2

If you missed the first part last week, please have a look here

Mrs B.

I am, or should I say, used to be one of those who desired to get pregnant on the wedding night. So two months into my marriage, I was already getting paranoid; sounds funny to me now, as I didn't know I had a bit of a long wait ahead. Six months into my marriage I discovered I was pregnant! You can imagine how ecstatic I was. There was nothing wrong with me after all, my husband was so happy too.

I kept telling myself I'd always heard that you didn't have to see a doctor until you are 3 months pregnant, and so I did not take any form of medication, not even folic acid! Two months into my miracle, I started seeing little stains of blood, I told myself not to worry as I'd also heard that spotting could be normal. However, a sixth sense pestered till I asked a close friend who had had a baby before, she asked what colour the stains were, I said dark red, and she got alarmed and told me not to waste any more time but to see a doctor! I had two scans from two different hospitals. The first said there was no fetal heartbeat. The second said there was after I asked. The doctor was more concerned with showing us the spot that signifies a baby and putting our minds to rest instead of telling us if all was actually well.

The journey to motherhood

Ever imagined not being able to conceive as a woman? Especially when the doctors find nothing but ask the woman to just wait. The pressure from society, the looks, the hurtful comments and constant self-blame. The excuses women/men make for partners when they say hurtful things, explanations women give when they should be focusing on themselves? etc.

We are always looking to the next thing. When will you get married? When will you have children? When will the next one come? We normalize pressure and always seem to have an opinion on how things should be. We forget that the person we have an opinion about has feelings just like we do, and it is about their lives, not something abstract. I remember talking to one of my friends in her third year of waiting to conceive. I remember the despair I heard from her, but the determination to get past the hopelessness and start living for herself once again.  I will be sharing stories from three women I know, in their own words, who had to wait for a few years to have children. 

I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. Enjoy.

Fancy being surprised? Or not?

I love surprises…It gives me joy when people go out of their way to make me happy in any way. Surprises do not always have to be presents, it can be a random act of kindness. The spontaneity of it excites me. However, not everyone is a fan of surprises I have discovered.

 

Someone I know was in a relationship, but not really. She was unsure whether she wanted to continue. The dude obviously knew what he wanted and popped the question. He genuinely loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her but she was unsure. She was so undecided that she left the country to study, the whole time asking him to move on, but he waited. 

During that time of dating, he got her lingerie. She didn’t know how to feel. The guy was obviously in a relationship with her in every sense of it, while she was slightly disconnected. She didn’t know how to feel about this surprise, happy or embarrassed.

Uncoupling

The last thing he felt like doing was wearing someone else’s skin today. He stared at the face looking at him in the mirror. It was an image he had seen every morning before he went off to work. But today, his eyes lingered over each feature. Wide eyebrows, deep brown eyes that were framed by unusually long lashes, cheekbones that were so high his cheeks hollowed out noticeably. His mouth was full with lips that thrust forward in a natural boyish pout and his skin; it was a blemish free, a smooth dark complexion that shone with health. He was perfect; on the outside.

With a determined glint in his eyes, he swung away from the mirror and walked into his private study and locked the door after him. His sleek apple desktop waited for him on the polished mahogany table, its blueish light casting an eerie shadow around the dark room. He glanced at his watch. It was almost time. He sat down in front of the computer and with one click he signed in on skype.

Her face came into focus quickly, fair and beautiful as always. Her bare pinkish lips were the first thing his eyes settled on. Her light brown eyes crinkled with a smile when she saw him.

On friendship

Zarah and Hassan had been friends for the longest time. They could have been described as best friends but for Hassan’s girlfriend. Zarah was cautious because she knew that Hassan’s girlfriend was not her biggest fan.

Hassan was known in Zarah’s family. When Hassan would visit the family house, he would call Zarah ahead to make a meal for him or bake for him or satisfy any food cravings he might have at the time of his visit. They supported each other, encouraged one another and they had a friendship that was worth admiring.

Years had passed and they both lived in different cities so they did not see each other as frequently as they used to. Zarah was going to leave for her studies overseas and Hassan was set to marry his girlfriend. Zarah and Hassan were not pleased that she would miss Hassan’s wedding, she had been looking forward to it. So Hassan went to Zarah’s family home to spend the weekend with her and her family before her departure. About a month after she left, the wedding took place. She spoke to the couple giving them her best wishes and for once, Hassan’s wife sounded pleasant. Zarah took it that her insecurities had been laid to rest.

Exploring manipulation 3

If you missed the last two parts, read part one here and two here

There were so many factors that stood against the relationship from the start; my dad had always said none of us would marry a non Igala person, he was a professor and wanted me to follow in his footsteps, he was from a place my people were already prejudiced about, I was in my final year while he was just starting university over again, even though he was 5 years older than me, and finally, I was a church girl and he was a bad boy. There were enough reasons to conclude that it wouldn’t work, the odds were against us. But something kept me close to him...I kept telling every one of my friends who asked me why I stayed that he has a beautiful heart. It didn’t make sense but that was it. I made things difficult for him. Somehow I had convinced myself that nothing good lasts forever so this great thing I had going wouldn't last, so I lived in hopeless fear that it would end. I kept breaking up with him, so I could save myself the trouble but he kept chasing me.

Exploring Manipulation 2

If you missed the last part, please read it here.

Fast forward to 2004, I had just returned from my industrial attachment in Abuja where I met the craziest girl I've ever known. Sandy was a wild bird, she was a dancer who wore small shirts and tight trousers that encased her skinny legs. She had the brightest smile and said the most obscene things. I wanted to be like her! This girl was one year older than I was and was openly doing the sort of dancing I only dreamed of. But I think I loved her more because she spoke her mind unapologetically. She reminded me of who I used to be when I was younger. Over the years, because of the beating and the sexual abuse, I had turned into a quiet mousy kind of girl, a recluse to put it better. My clothes were baggy because I was hoping that would ward off male attention. I was quiet except with people I was comfortable with, then I danced only in secret because I was too shy to dance in front of people. Well, Sandy was like a role model. She was a National Youth Service Corps member and I was an IT (Industrial training) student, but we became instant pals. Her birthday was on February 13th and that year, she was leaving for the U.K. on the 15th to seek better things, so I decided to do something I had never done before. 

Exploring Manipulation

So it all started when I was thirteen years old and my parents had their usual fight, with my dad pummeling away as usual. The beating had obviously been going on since I was born but I only became aware of it when I was seven. We had just returned from London where we lived for about four years as my dad went for his PhD.

The first time I witnessed my dad beating my mum, it took me by surprise. As a child, I was feisty and bold. I hated that he was beating her and I made the ‘mistake’ of jumping in between them to try and stop him...I took a good beating! That's probably where all my problems with my father started. Every time they had a fight, as long as I was around I would jump in, yelling for him to stop and tell him that he was doing the wrong thing. I grew up telling my dad he was wrong most of the time and I got beaten for it, a lot.

That game...

They both say that there is nothing, when it's rather clear to all.

It's fleeting we can all tell as there is no basis for sustenance.

The feelings are consuming them both, the attraction cannot be hidden.

It's a game, an interesting one, but there is a snag...

They've both walked down the aisle with different people!

Twenty first century young adults

Over the last year and a half, I have been volunteering to work with young adults from teenage to early twenties. It has been very interesting, shocking and I have learnt so much.

It has been interesting because I have met some truly driven people who inspire me.

Shocking, at the level of ignorance considering that this generation has everything at their disposal to learn. The effects social media has on these children is saddening as it is mostly negative. The selective reading tilts more to gossip and entertainment but little about things that could help to build them up.

But I have also met some extremely intelligent and super driven ones who impress me each time we speak. I learn from all of them.

Last weekend, the topic we were discussing was 'my big picture'. It was a topic we discussed for a period of time. We took turns, with each person having to talk about their plans and goals, and it was inevitable to present such a topic without giving some practical examples including personal ones. I talked about one goal I hoped to achieve which I have already started working towards.

Feminism and relationships

Thanks to Estrella this post is being written. She asked that I write about feminism especially with regards to relationships in the Nigerian context...

 

When I googled feminism, the definition that came up was “the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.”

Feminism in the context of a relationship…I am not sure how well these two go together but I will say on my part that I believe that both individuals in a relationship are meant to complement each other, the female as well as the male have a role to play. Where one is lacking, the other could make up. This is very vague but that’s my line of thinking for starters.

The notion of one sex being superior to the other has long been a bone of contention for many. I am not writing this to negate or to agree to that notion. Each person can make the choice for herself/himself. As open minded as I would like to think that I am, I could be traditional in some areas. When it comes to a relationship, in terms of marriage/civil partnerships for instance, I still have the notion that a man should be a bread winner, that the man should be the head. The woman could earn more and contribute significantly to running the home, she could even be the one bringing in all that is needed to run the home when there might be a case of the man losing a job or going through a rough time because these things happen but the man should still take the lead. However, certain things are true in a relationship like both sexes need each other.

Embracing futility 3

If you missed the last two parts, please read them here: part 1 and part 2

PART 3

These love birds grew closer by the day. Working in the same environment and having him ahead of her was a great feeling. There was a security she felt knowing he might be somewhere around, it gave her pleasure when they bumped into each other. She could speak her medical jargons to someone and he would get it. That someone was the one she loved and it made her walk with a spring in her step. It was the same for him, who else could he talk to? He had her to catch him, to encourage him and to boost his ego. He was sure that she would be a part of his life for a very long time.

Two years had gone by since their reunion, there were hurdles of course but they got through them. They sat one day, reminiscing on times past, talking about the times they both might have acted silly, teasing one another and laughing at each other. They did not become a boring old couple even after getting back together, they could laugh, play, tease one another, yet none would take offence. They were a couple to admire. He knew that he could not spend the rest of his life without her. She felt the same but on that subject, nobody had said a word. There were times that it haunted him, he wondered whether someone else would beat him to it, yet he could not imagine her being with any other person. There were days on her part that she wondered when this subject would be spoken about but she just watched.

Embracing futility

Where will I start from she said looking at her wedding dress and choking from tears, her vision blurred from crying…

Chichi had seen Azubike while she was studying, although they never spoke. She spent a good number of years in school thanks to her course of study. 

After her studies, she stayed on in Jos for her housemanship (internship) and residency eventually. Jos was a place she could call home. The climate was perfect, it was a lot cooler than other parts of Nigeria. It was a place that brought nature close to her; the town had such lush vegetation and beautiful rocks. Jos was once her dream city; here she was living there fifteen years later.

They finally met during her housemanship (internship). He was a junior resident doctor at the time in family medicine. She started her rotations (they were moved from one department in medicine to the other), so she was in pediatrics. He was also doing a rotation in the same department. Apparently, family physicians usually have rotations in major specialties in medicine. She remembered that she saw him at some point while studying, she was on a rotation in Obstetrics and Gynecology at the time. 

The day always started with departmental meetings where the interns would give presentations on patients admitted the previous day. On days when Chichi was not on the hot seat, she would read a novel while presentations were ongoing. From time to time, she looked up to see what was going on and would catch Azubike stealing glances at her. She knew she had this admirer but feigned ignorance. They had a mutual friend, Rabi, also a doctor, who noticed what was going on and she would always tease Chichi about her admirer. Unknown to Chichi was that Azubike had spoken to Rabi, but Rabi stayed loyal to both friends by not giving anything away.

Something Gave, Something Remained

Remember my post Something's gotta give? I got a message from a follower asking me to look at the sequel he wrote to my post called Something Gave, Something Remained. It's so nice to get this sort of feedback :-)

Here it is:

His Version (Part One)

He gently sat by the cement block, eyes squinting as he flinched from his aching bones. The pain subsided to the smell of seawater as he stared at the sunset, the sea waves clashing in the distance a soothing to his ears. Closing his eyes, he folded his hands and leaned back. A ritual he had always performed was about to start.

The plane's shadow quickly cast over him, its engine roar a familiar sound as it climbed higher in the air. He could hear behind him some kids running drunk with excitement and vigor. By the time he counted up to ten, he opened his eyes, and the plane, no bigger than a water drop, entered the clouds, vanishing from sight.

It was always at this juncture, once every 4 or 5 years, that he would stand up and jog home, prepare the remaining children for the week ahead. But this time was different: He had just seen his last born drift into the clouds, as all pilots did. But more importantly, like his five children; one by one, he had seen them grow up from babies to adults. Each child in their own way, living to further their lives. He caught himself sighing, wondering if it was from satisfaction of a father or the realization that he was could not have done it alone.  Rising up with his walking stick, people passing by would see him and smile first, for he did not need to walk like a king with a kingdom. Somewhere in his wrinkled face and sunken eyes, was the thing you need not describe in words. He knew this, because they smiled first, and that was why he smiled back.

47 years have passed since they asked themselves what was on their minds that night. He could still remember her face when he spilled his guts on impulse, fearing embarrassment. Even more surprising, her reciprocation with her own fears/worries made him realize what few came to know: that to love is to be vulnerable.

She gave up so much, He thought to himself in the present. He had an idea growing from his strong-willed family, friends and enemies included. They all said something had to give, and when he remembered his mum singing it in his ears he would shrug it off. But after so long, the statement was three quarters true for him, and four quarters true for her.

He remembered her face when she started using his surname, when the first child came to life and life's hardest challenges arrived. He remembered her face in all of life's milestones. Time and time again she gave, as all who truly loved did. A little of her time every day, to be with him where she could be crunching at work. A little of her time she gave after tucking the kids in bed. The minutes added up, and by the time the children had come and gone he knew he did not need to count the time anymore: he lived for her and her alone.

He remembered when the women came after him, when the fear of being unfaithful looked like it was more than the love for her. He smiled at naive he was, for as time took its toll, behind every new wrinkle on her face was a story he shared. Behind every slight stumble she had was a tale where he had to stand twice as strong for her to lean on. Laughs shared, fights fought, tears shed, and moments together moulded a picture with more depth and meaning than any fashion model could exude. If beauty was in the eyes of the beholder, she had made him see more than he could have on his own.

As he thought about these things he arrived at the house that had bore witness to their story. The children were gone now, and by the time he had reached for the door handle he remembered the smell of her cooking.

They were right. Something had to give.

Fear gave way, and Love remained.

Part two (Her Version) coming soon…..

Anthea and Chris...The wedding pictures

Remember Anthea and Chris? The story in pictures:

TRADITIONAL WEDDING, JULY 26 2014

Anthea was dressed in this attire and taken out by her lovely friends to be identified by her husband-to-be.

Something's gotta give

They sat and talked, laughing and smiling, looking into each other's eyes and kissing like lovers always do.
He was crazy about her. He loved her so much she got frightened sometimes.
She loved him, she did, but she wondered if she would remain happy if she spent the rest of her life with him.
She had so many questions...she didn't want to give up her career and fun in the bid to be married.

She knew something had to give but she wasn't sure what it would be.
She had friends complain, not once, of what they could have been but children came along...
Were these friends happy being married? That she could never tell.
She wondered if she could not have it all: love, fun, marriage and a career.
How could it be balanced properly? But they all say something's gotta give...

He couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life without her.
He loved her and would do his best to keep her happy. It was fast becoming his priority.
Sex with her was mind blowing! She had been the best and most open minded of them all. She was always willing to try and beyond that, she would initiate. He felt like a novice around her sometimes but she had a way of making him relax and try out his wildest fantasies. Who wouldn't want to keep a woman like that?!

But he wondered if it would always remain that way. She is a keeper, she is good around the house and fits in very well in social gatherings. But he wondered how that body may change with children. He wondered if she would end up being one of those women who would no longer want sex and how, just how he may handle it.
He would like to stay faithful but would he be tempted?

What's wrong? They both asked at the same time. . .unknown to each of them, they both had straying thoughts, on the same subject...