Dear dad,
When I was at your bedside, I wept
When the news got to me, I wailed
When reality set in, I whispered
“You will be sorely missed”
Memories of my childhood floods my thought
Snippets of my teen hood flashes to my heart
I smile at the thoughts
“Great dad, great Moses”
How will life be without your jokes?
How do I write my story without you?
I smile at the unending thoughts
“I will keep you in my heart”
Dad, when the angels deliver this mail
I want you to know just this:
The day you left, tears filled the earth but
“Your spirit lives on “
I will carry on your good works
I will tell my generations about you
I will keep you in my heart”
“My one and only Obeki”
Until we meet at Jesus’ feet,
Until we meet to part no more
Until goodnight becomes goodday
Baba Sho, “I will keep you in my heart
Yours truly,
Atolly Konko, 123, Law……
Monday, October 11, 2010
Dear Dad
In memory of my great friend…
When I heard the news, I broke down in tears, “When?, I still saw him yesterday, I believed he’ll get through this…he always does”
Those were my thoughts when I heard that the great Obeki had passed away.
He was a survivor, a great orator, a renowned sociologist, a role model, dedicated politician, most of all, a loving dad!
Where do I start…from the days when you taught me to drive, days when you usually conjure “Short bread and TUC biscuits”, the only day you spanked me in my entire life, our academic chitchat and your numerous letters to me. How can I forget the numerous visits to my school and the day we disagreed.
You taught me my first big words… (genius, conjure, etc) and imbibed in me the culture of giving and helping, I have lost count of hundreds of students that you ensured gained admission to all level of academic institutions…..that is the great man that I had the privilege of growing with, that is the Sarumi of Egba land.
I miss you dearly and you will remain forever in my memory, I will carry on with your positive works and will tell my kids and grandkids about the charismatic man that shaped my world oyster.
Words fail me, I have so much to say yet the words are lost in my reverie, I reminisce on our past year…the good, bad and ugly but most of all the days you will dance for us and made us laugh till we cry.
My loving father lives on, death cannot be glad, knowing that it failed to wipe away those years we shared.
I know you are in heaven smiling at us, I love you daddy and this is telling the whole world what a great man you were.
Rest in peace, till we meet at Jesus’ feet.
Emi l’omo Sarumi olowe a serubote!
Atolly konko
Atolly Law
Atolly 123.
When I heard the news, I broke down in tears, “When?, I still saw him yesterday, I believed he’ll get through this…he always does”
Those were my thoughts when I heard that the great Obeki had passed away.
He was a survivor, a great orator, a renowned sociologist, a role model, dedicated politician, most of all, a loving dad!
Where do I start…from the days when you taught me to drive, days when you usually conjure “Short bread and TUC biscuits”, the only day you spanked me in my entire life, our academic chitchat and your numerous letters to me. How can I forget the numerous visits to my school and the day we disagreed.
You taught me my first big words… (genius, conjure, etc) and imbibed in me the culture of giving and helping, I have lost count of hundreds of students that you ensured gained admission to all level of academic institutions…..that is the great man that I had the privilege of growing with, that is the Sarumi of Egba land.
I miss you dearly and you will remain forever in my memory, I will carry on with your positive works and will tell my kids and grandkids about the charismatic man that shaped my world oyster.
Words fail me, I have so much to say yet the words are lost in my reverie, I reminisce on our past year…the good, bad and ugly but most of all the days you will dance for us and made us laugh till we cry.
My loving father lives on, death cannot be glad, knowing that it failed to wipe away those years we shared.
I know you are in heaven smiling at us, I love you daddy and this is telling the whole world what a great man you were.
Rest in peace, till we meet at Jesus’ feet.
Emi l’omo Sarumi olowe a serubote!
Atolly konko
Atolly Law
Atolly 123.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
my five inches friend
Once upon a time when I was young, I watched in amazement how my mother carried herself in various types of high heeled shoes and sandals. I remember that I would wear her shoes and take a walk in the front of the mirror like a model, most times I fall and stumble and other times, I just got it right.
My mother will come in and laugh heartily, sometimes urging me on and then she tells me “you will get there soon, and thereafter, you will get tired of them”. I wondered how soon this time will come and if I will truly ever get tired of this “five inches wonder”.
As soon as I fell in love with dresses, my love for shoes began and it grew hot like fire, I would always insist on high heels whenever my mother shopped for us. It was high heels or nothing!
She will sometimes refuse my proposal and lecture me on the beauty of flats as well but I turned deaf anytime she tried to lecture me, and I could not wait to get into the University to shop for myself without having to listen to inaugural speeches before acquiring my database.
So, as soon as I was able to shop for myself I began to buy these inches in variant, so long as it comes with inches, I would shop. That was my journey to being a shoeholic.
I bought like today will not come, and I just loved the carriage and poise these inches gave me. I have a petite figure, and if you know what I mean heels are my best friends. I was glad I could walk and talk a shoulder above others; I was a queen in my world.
Who would blame me? When we were asked to make a line in the school assembly, yours truly was always part of the top five, so I would not blow a chance at being labeled or described as tall.
I cannot remember an inch so high that I could not walk in, even with the bad roads in school; I will walk like a pro in my high heels. My mother will look at my shoe collection and I am sure she blamed herself for encouraging me to walk a mile in her shoes as a child.
Then I got married and while expecting, I loathed to wear pumps, I still wore my heels till I was in my second trimester, but I always got disapproving glances from passer bys especially the older generations.
Some will walk up to me and give me series of lectures on the hazards of heels while pregnant while some will look at me with so much disgust that I will check myself if I was having a bad hair day. So, I just stopped wearing them.
It was already getting hard to walk in them anyway. I was always looking forward to my EDD partly because I could not wait to see this cute baby growing inside of me and also because I will be free to walk in my heels.
The nine month course came to an end, and I was so relieved.
But, did I jump right in my heels?
I wish I did, after an exhausting day of caring for the newborn and catching up with the rest of my life, those heels did not just matter anymore.
While in my second and third trimester, I had acquired a mass of gladiator sandals, flip flops, sports shoes, ballerina flats, trainers, and its company. I could not believe that miss-heel-or-nothing will be in these shoes.
And my mother, she did not fail to remind me that she was an octopus having predicted that such a time will come. My spouse will always laugh out to my chagrin and I always tell him that it was just for a while.
Post-natal came and I went back to my good old habit, however, this time I only shopped for the sake of my shoe rack. I would buy my heels quite alright, but I will not wear it for more than five times. The few times I wore them, I always changed to my flats.
Wearing these heels though it still felt good but the pain it caused was a nightmare. I wondered why I was subjecting my feet to such a horror, and I was quick to shop for lesser and comfortable inches. I am done with stilettos, or “Broom stick” as my mother referred to them.
Now I embrace pumps, wedges and platform like never before and I have grown to shop less and save more. Needless to say that I missed a step in those heels after post natal and so nobody had to lecture me, I was my own counselor. Beauty can be pain indeed.
I find myself casting those same disapproving looks when I go into the cinemas, malls or places where you see lots of teenagers. This summer, I was tempted to call a pretty girl in a hot stiletto to give her my share of lecture when I remembered the words of my mother.
I rather wait, smile and grin like an Octopus when her time will come.
But I still remain a shoeholic with a sense of saving!
My mother will come in and laugh heartily, sometimes urging me on and then she tells me “you will get there soon, and thereafter, you will get tired of them”. I wondered how soon this time will come and if I will truly ever get tired of this “five inches wonder”.
As soon as I fell in love with dresses, my love for shoes began and it grew hot like fire, I would always insist on high heels whenever my mother shopped for us. It was high heels or nothing!
She will sometimes refuse my proposal and lecture me on the beauty of flats as well but I turned deaf anytime she tried to lecture me, and I could not wait to get into the University to shop for myself without having to listen to inaugural speeches before acquiring my database.
So, as soon as I was able to shop for myself I began to buy these inches in variant, so long as it comes with inches, I would shop. That was my journey to being a shoeholic.
I bought like today will not come, and I just loved the carriage and poise these inches gave me. I have a petite figure, and if you know what I mean heels are my best friends. I was glad I could walk and talk a shoulder above others; I was a queen in my world.
Who would blame me? When we were asked to make a line in the school assembly, yours truly was always part of the top five, so I would not blow a chance at being labeled or described as tall.
I cannot remember an inch so high that I could not walk in, even with the bad roads in school; I will walk like a pro in my high heels. My mother will look at my shoe collection and I am sure she blamed herself for encouraging me to walk a mile in her shoes as a child.
Then I got married and while expecting, I loathed to wear pumps, I still wore my heels till I was in my second trimester, but I always got disapproving glances from passer bys especially the older generations.
Some will walk up to me and give me series of lectures on the hazards of heels while pregnant while some will look at me with so much disgust that I will check myself if I was having a bad hair day. So, I just stopped wearing them.
It was already getting hard to walk in them anyway. I was always looking forward to my EDD partly because I could not wait to see this cute baby growing inside of me and also because I will be free to walk in my heels.
The nine month course came to an end, and I was so relieved.
But, did I jump right in my heels?
I wish I did, after an exhausting day of caring for the newborn and catching up with the rest of my life, those heels did not just matter anymore.
While in my second and third trimester, I had acquired a mass of gladiator sandals, flip flops, sports shoes, ballerina flats, trainers, and its company. I could not believe that miss-heel-or-nothing will be in these shoes.
And my mother, she did not fail to remind me that she was an octopus having predicted that such a time will come. My spouse will always laugh out to my chagrin and I always tell him that it was just for a while.
Post-natal came and I went back to my good old habit, however, this time I only shopped for the sake of my shoe rack. I would buy my heels quite alright, but I will not wear it for more than five times. The few times I wore them, I always changed to my flats.
Wearing these heels though it still felt good but the pain it caused was a nightmare. I wondered why I was subjecting my feet to such a horror, and I was quick to shop for lesser and comfortable inches. I am done with stilettos, or “Broom stick” as my mother referred to them.
Now I embrace pumps, wedges and platform like never before and I have grown to shop less and save more. Needless to say that I missed a step in those heels after post natal and so nobody had to lecture me, I was my own counselor. Beauty can be pain indeed.
I find myself casting those same disapproving looks when I go into the cinemas, malls or places where you see lots of teenagers. This summer, I was tempted to call a pretty girl in a hot stiletto to give her my share of lecture when I remembered the words of my mother.
I rather wait, smile and grin like an Octopus when her time will come.
But I still remain a shoeholic with a sense of saving!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Pardon me for any typographical errors or unusual acronyms, I usually fast type when I am overly excited, don't blame it on my hormones or sugar level,it is the Lords"s doing and it is undeniably beautiful in my sight.
I started 2010 with a molue load of high expectations, and without a thought to the fallen angel "lucifer" who comes to steal and destroy. Neither did I remember that life is full of thorns and speed breakers, I was just thinking positive.
Life has been so good to me no doubt, but not void of mid-life crisis and series of unplanned dramas .
The challenges has surfaced in various forms, sometimes I realize that I am a speed breaker to myself!
I stumble and refuse to dust myself up and try again for many reasons; fear of failure, disappiontment and mortification.
I am human after all, I sometimes allow those challenges to weigh me down. I get upset, ask a 1ot of "why"s" that will not get a reply and cry, yes I cry. The best part of the cry session is that I feel a lot better when I let out my emotions.
My muse is not about focusing on me, or my fears but rather I choose to use this medium to reach out to others.
I read somewhere that the law of constant movement is important to all creation,including man. A bird that attains a certain height and wishes to remain there can only do so if it continues to flap its wings.
This also applies to us, so we should always remember to flap our wings and stir ourselves to further heights if not, there will be a fall, a great fall like Humpty Dumpty!
So no matter the odds against you or the present circumstance, remember that there is no permanent condition.
Keep the faith, defy the odds, raise the stakes, take calculated risk(s) and above all STAY POSITIVE.
And back to myself,why is ADETOLA overly excited, I need to focus and embrace new oppurtunities.
God help me!
I started 2010 with a molue load of high expectations, and without a thought to the fallen angel "lucifer" who comes to steal and destroy. Neither did I remember that life is full of thorns and speed breakers, I was just thinking positive.
Life has been so good to me no doubt, but not void of mid-life crisis and series of unplanned dramas .
The challenges has surfaced in various forms, sometimes I realize that I am a speed breaker to myself!
I stumble and refuse to dust myself up and try again for many reasons; fear of failure, disappiontment and mortification.
I am human after all, I sometimes allow those challenges to weigh me down. I get upset, ask a 1ot of "why"s" that will not get a reply and cry, yes I cry. The best part of the cry session is that I feel a lot better when I let out my emotions.
My muse is not about focusing on me, or my fears but rather I choose to use this medium to reach out to others.
I read somewhere that the law of constant movement is important to all creation,including man. A bird that attains a certain height and wishes to remain there can only do so if it continues to flap its wings.
This also applies to us, so we should always remember to flap our wings and stir ourselves to further heights if not, there will be a fall, a great fall like Humpty Dumpty!
So no matter the odds against you or the present circumstance, remember that there is no permanent condition.
Keep the faith, defy the odds, raise the stakes, take calculated risk(s) and above all STAY POSITIVE.
And back to myself,why is ADETOLA overly excited, I need to focus and embrace new oppurtunities.
God help me!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
OF MOTHERS AND SONS
To say that I look forward to coming home is an understatement.
After a hectic day at work coupled with the traffic, I am always eager to get to the comfort of my house, and this Friday was no an exception.
Its not like I do not enjoy my work, the job is getting monotonous and quite predictable, hence my excitement at home coming.
My house is never short of activities, from my seven months old cute baby boy who is learning and exploring his world and new found skills to my six years old “big brother’ who is ever inquisitive, it is a guaranteed circus.
This fateful Friday I came in with the hope of catching a nice movie on cable with a cold can of Coke, how wrong was I.
I met my older son wearing my bra and pacifying his little brother while playing mummy with an empty bottle, the scene was so droll yet sweet. .
“what is going on here? I queried asking nobody in particular. My baby giggled with so much excitement when he heard my voice, he was waving his little hands at me suggesting that I should carry him.
‘Mummy, I was feeding *dazzle*, he was crying and *maa-ma* was in the bathroom, so I took care of him, aren’t you proud of me? He said excitedly. “Proud of you” I wondered silently, am I?
“Of course I am so proud of you; you have proved to be very resourceful, independent and caring”, I replied as I took his brother from him.
I was still playing catch up with him when I realized that my older son was pulling at my dress, “I said, what is the meaning of resourceful”.
I answered him hastily to avoid further interrogations, “mummy, am I really independent like Nigeria” he further asked.
You are more independent than “baby naija”, I muttered under my breath.
“Baby naija”, mummy why do you say naija is a baby, naija is old, naija is 50 now”
“Questions over dear, please can I have a glass of water”
I was relieved to see him run to get the water, at least it’s a guarantee that the questions will stop, but for how long I cannot say.
We continued our series of questions and answers till lights out, yours truly forgetting her tiredness and thirst for a cold Coke.
Kids…will always be kids, my kids, an antidote for boredom and lethargy.
*dazzle: nickname for my little baby
*maa-ma: nickname for their nanny
After a hectic day at work coupled with the traffic, I am always eager to get to the comfort of my house, and this Friday was no an exception.
Its not like I do not enjoy my work, the job is getting monotonous and quite predictable, hence my excitement at home coming.
My house is never short of activities, from my seven months old cute baby boy who is learning and exploring his world and new found skills to my six years old “big brother’ who is ever inquisitive, it is a guaranteed circus.
This fateful Friday I came in with the hope of catching a nice movie on cable with a cold can of Coke, how wrong was I.
I met my older son wearing my bra and pacifying his little brother while playing mummy with an empty bottle, the scene was so droll yet sweet. .
“what is going on here? I queried asking nobody in particular. My baby giggled with so much excitement when he heard my voice, he was waving his little hands at me suggesting that I should carry him.
‘Mummy, I was feeding *dazzle*, he was crying and *maa-ma* was in the bathroom, so I took care of him, aren’t you proud of me? He said excitedly. “Proud of you” I wondered silently, am I?
“Of course I am so proud of you; you have proved to be very resourceful, independent and caring”, I replied as I took his brother from him.
I was still playing catch up with him when I realized that my older son was pulling at my dress, “I said, what is the meaning of resourceful”.
I answered him hastily to avoid further interrogations, “mummy, am I really independent like Nigeria” he further asked.
You are more independent than “baby naija”, I muttered under my breath.
“Baby naija”, mummy why do you say naija is a baby, naija is old, naija is 50 now”
“Questions over dear, please can I have a glass of water”
I was relieved to see him run to get the water, at least it’s a guarantee that the questions will stop, but for how long I cannot say.
We continued our series of questions and answers till lights out, yours truly forgetting her tiredness and thirst for a cold Coke.
Kids…will always be kids, my kids, an antidote for boredom and lethargy.
*dazzle: nickname for my little baby
*maa-ma: nickname for their nanny
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
IS WRITING NOW IRRELEVANT?
God forbid that writing become irrelevant! What becomes of this generation and that of my children?
When I think of writing, what come to my mind is word(s) or other symbol(s) written down as a means of communication.
Writing is writing in any form, be it with a pen, computer, or any other means, so long as the writer is passing a message across.
Growing up as a child, works such as ‘the gods are not to blame’, ‘Shakespeare’, ‘the tale of two cities’ and so many others are what writing were to me.
Writing has evolved over time, but the fundamental thing about writing is the line of communication between the writer and the reader.
Presently, writing can be done in various forms be it handwriting, type writing etc. there are so many great works written online and bounded in papers and they increase daily.
Writing is an art, and will never die; in fact there are many great write ups now than ever before.
However, the advent of computers has brought both negative and positive gain to writing. One can argue that the computer has contributed to the new slangs and words and if this trend is not curbed, we might lose our deep sense of words.
On the other hand, I would say with the craze for social media sites, people are more interested in writing in their blogs, webs, posts and others which to me is a good thing.
Writing comes from the soul, it is a food to the soul, once people are alive, then I make bold to say that writing is not and will not be irrelevant.
The beauty of writing is that it outlives the writer and that to me is the joy of writing
When I think of writing, what come to my mind is word(s) or other symbol(s) written down as a means of communication.
Writing is writing in any form, be it with a pen, computer, or any other means, so long as the writer is passing a message across.
Growing up as a child, works such as ‘the gods are not to blame’, ‘Shakespeare’, ‘the tale of two cities’ and so many others are what writing were to me.
Writing has evolved over time, but the fundamental thing about writing is the line of communication between the writer and the reader.
Presently, writing can be done in various forms be it handwriting, type writing etc. there are so many great works written online and bounded in papers and they increase daily.
Writing is an art, and will never die; in fact there are many great write ups now than ever before.
However, the advent of computers has brought both negative and positive gain to writing. One can argue that the computer has contributed to the new slangs and words and if this trend is not curbed, we might lose our deep sense of words.
On the other hand, I would say with the craze for social media sites, people are more interested in writing in their blogs, webs, posts and others which to me is a good thing.
Writing comes from the soul, it is a food to the soul, once people are alive, then I make bold to say that writing is not and will not be irrelevant.
The beauty of writing is that it outlives the writer and that to me is the joy of writing
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
in my husband's eyes
In my husband's eyes, I am everything
i am a baby; cute and cuddly
i am a wife; caring and consistent
i am a sister; silly and saucy
i am a mother; strong and rare
i am a lawyer; advocate and adviser
i am a reflection of his world
i am a voice in his ears
i am an apple in his eyes
i am a sore in his toes
i am a priceless gift
i am a mother figure
i am an only true love
i am his first and last wife
i am everything
i am a baby; cute and cuddly
i am a wife; caring and consistent
i am a sister; silly and saucy
i am a mother; strong and rare
i am a lawyer; advocate and adviser
i am a reflection of his world
i am a voice in his ears
i am an apple in his eyes
i am a sore in his toes
i am a priceless gift
i am a mother figure
i am an only true love
i am his first and last wife
i am everything
collection of short poems
i wish i were a guitar
i wish i knew a skilled player
i wish he would strike the right keys
i wish he would play the right notes
i wish he would play on
i wish the music never stops
i wish the rhythm never cease
i wish i were a guitar
i saw you slip away
leaving me dry
i saw go for another her
leaving me torn
i cry for you pierce my heart
leaving me hurt
like the days turn to night
my smile turns to tears
my world go weary
i sit by my window
my heart bleeds
alas,
the one I love loves me not
i have been in love
it was like pure bliss
it was heaven on earth
i have been in love
with my eyes closed, heart opened
it was like dream in dream
i have been in love
with this heaven sent angel
it was like paradise
when valentine left my heart-a-bleed
no stars shine at night
no birds sings at dawn
even the sky aint blue
this may be hard but the truth
i know is that the greatest act of love
is loving and letting go
i wish i knew a skilled player
i wish he would strike the right keys
i wish he would play the right notes
i wish he would play on
i wish the music never stops
i wish the rhythm never cease
i wish i were a guitar
i saw you slip away
leaving me dry
i saw go for another her
leaving me torn
i cry for you pierce my heart
leaving me hurt
like the days turn to night
my smile turns to tears
my world go weary
i sit by my window
my heart bleeds
alas,
the one I love loves me not
i have been in love
it was like pure bliss
it was heaven on earth
i have been in love
with my eyes closed, heart opened
it was like dream in dream
i have been in love
with this heaven sent angel
it was like paradise
when valentine left my heart-a-bleed
no stars shine at night
no birds sings at dawn
even the sky aint blue
this may be hard but the truth
i know is that the greatest act of love
is loving and letting go
me, my pen and journalists
There is so much joy I derive from writing with a pen, be it, a visconti, bic, eleganza or tibaldi, maybe it’s the lawyer in me but there’s an indescribable feeling I get penning my thoughts.
I can’t remember the last time I received a note or post that was handwritten, and there is no modern sophisticated device that can take away this first love of penning. Not even the blackberry or my palm top.
My first pen I can remember was a schneider pen that my dad gave me, I remembered that I was so excited that day and threw away all my pencils thinking I had no need of them,I was so wrong.
Everywhere I went, my pen went with me, it was my best buddy as it captured all my milestone and I always hid it in my pink dairy, o what innocent days!
I don’t know if I am alone in this, but I often find myself writing with my pen before I store any information on my PC, call me old school, but I remain faithful to my pen.
From the recent happenings in Nigeria, I must confess that the fear of journalists is the beginning of wisdom. Just imagine the effect a newspaper head line can be, I remember the days of the “evil genius”, “baba iyabo” and most recently “dora the explorer”, all coined by Nigerian journalists.
No wonder former president and my townsman, Olusegun Obasanjo did not hide his disdain for journalists. However, we must be careful of what we write as words when written can make or mar.
Now I understand why people say that the pen is mightier than the sword…
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Inspiration
I like sleeping with the music on, it’s like food to my soul. When I need to get some sleep, or cook something new, music turns me on, good music that is, not some of our naija rants.
This morning, as I was dressing for work, the music stopped abruptly and the smooth voice of Inspiration FM’s Oscar boomed on, and he was talking about his friend losing her job.
Apart from Mutalab, Yaradua’s health, the next big news in Nigeria is JOB CUTS. Oscar was asking the listeners for solutions for this friend. Come to think of it, what do you tell a person in this situation, it is a tricky one.
The truth of the matter is whether we like it or not, this dilemma is real, banks are laying off in folds and after the gratis is worked out, the not so fortunate ones will have to pay up their loan deductions and this leaves them with nothing. Pathetic!
Imagine the scenario of the banker couples who both lost their jobs, how do you expect such people to cope? I mean this is so sad, and we all look on as NYSC dispatches thousands of graduates into the already saturated market.
I am particularly glad that a lot of people responded and called in to the programme, some were actually people that were affected by the job cuts. I praised the attitude of these people because that is truly the first road to recovery.
I did not get to finish the programme as I was almost late for work, but I heard Oscar urging people to text job alerts to a SMS Code, and I must applaud his initiative.
At this time, we all have to help each other, encouraging our friends and families who are in this situation. We need to reach out to them in the best possible ways and show hem that we love and support them. If there are other things within your reach, please offer to them.
For those affected by the job cuts, I wish you God’s favour and mercy, It can happen top anyone, so cheer up because there is light at the end of the tunnel.
And to Oscar, if you get to see this, nice one and continue inspiring others.
Happy New Year!
This morning, as I was dressing for work, the music stopped abruptly and the smooth voice of Inspiration FM’s Oscar boomed on, and he was talking about his friend losing her job.
Apart from Mutalab, Yaradua’s health, the next big news in Nigeria is JOB CUTS. Oscar was asking the listeners for solutions for this friend. Come to think of it, what do you tell a person in this situation, it is a tricky one.
The truth of the matter is whether we like it or not, this dilemma is real, banks are laying off in folds and after the gratis is worked out, the not so fortunate ones will have to pay up their loan deductions and this leaves them with nothing. Pathetic!
Imagine the scenario of the banker couples who both lost their jobs, how do you expect such people to cope? I mean this is so sad, and we all look on as NYSC dispatches thousands of graduates into the already saturated market.
I am particularly glad that a lot of people responded and called in to the programme, some were actually people that were affected by the job cuts. I praised the attitude of these people because that is truly the first road to recovery.
I did not get to finish the programme as I was almost late for work, but I heard Oscar urging people to text job alerts to a SMS Code, and I must applaud his initiative.
At this time, we all have to help each other, encouraging our friends and families who are in this situation. We need to reach out to them in the best possible ways and show hem that we love and support them. If there are other things within your reach, please offer to them.
For those affected by the job cuts, I wish you God’s favour and mercy, It can happen top anyone, so cheer up because there is light at the end of the tunnel.
And to Oscar, if you get to see this, nice one and continue inspiring others.
Happy New Year!
rants of a desperate naija housewife
“God bless Nigeria” was the quick prayer that I said when I realized that there was a public holiday on Friday, this is going to be a long break, and so long it was.
I got home early from work on Thursday, and so did Dh, and I had mentally planned this short break, one would think I was on leave, in between my thoughts, I heard his phone beep and it was a biz call, one I was sure would not affect me, boy! How wrong was I?
I was still planning mentally when Dh came to me, we were just gisting and the conversation revealed that he was going to be away during my well planned break…
I was so mad, angry, disappointed and what more? And I angrily packed an overnight bag, so what happens to my entire plan? I queried no one in particular.
So Friday came and off Dh went, leaving me with a promise to call at every interval. Our little boy of course was sad to see daddy leave but was quick to be consoled with the fact that there will be gifts on arrival and that “he was in charge of the house”.
How do I live thru this break that I had planned to be twosome, I just lived each hour with a drag, I read, slept, woke up, watched all sorts of series and cartoons with the little guy in charge. In fact I was so bored that I did some fitness exercise, cleaned the mirror (twas that bad).
Did the phone calls come as promised, yes! They did, and my phone was totally glued to my hands lest I missed a call from Dh, but it did not make up for the TLC I missed, how on earth can phone calls, emails, chatting, or Skype make up for the touch of your partner? Based on my experience, it cannot do a thang! How do people cope with internet love?
So summarily my weekend was a bore, though twas good having a “me time”, am still home alone awaiting Dh’s arrival, and I realized that one is good but two is definitely better, I realized how much I missed my Dh, nobody to switch stations to super sports, or al jazeera, or argue politics, no one to cook for even at odd hours of the day, no pillow fights (u know what I mean), and if the days were long, the nights were much longer…
In short, this is a ranting of a woman missing her boo, Period!
I got home early from work on Thursday, and so did Dh, and I had mentally planned this short break, one would think I was on leave, in between my thoughts, I heard his phone beep and it was a biz call, one I was sure would not affect me, boy! How wrong was I?
I was still planning mentally when Dh came to me, we were just gisting and the conversation revealed that he was going to be away during my well planned break…
I was so mad, angry, disappointed and what more? And I angrily packed an overnight bag, so what happens to my entire plan? I queried no one in particular.
So Friday came and off Dh went, leaving me with a promise to call at every interval. Our little boy of course was sad to see daddy leave but was quick to be consoled with the fact that there will be gifts on arrival and that “he was in charge of the house”.
How do I live thru this break that I had planned to be twosome, I just lived each hour with a drag, I read, slept, woke up, watched all sorts of series and cartoons with the little guy in charge. In fact I was so bored that I did some fitness exercise, cleaned the mirror (twas that bad).
Did the phone calls come as promised, yes! They did, and my phone was totally glued to my hands lest I missed a call from Dh, but it did not make up for the TLC I missed, how on earth can phone calls, emails, chatting, or Skype make up for the touch of your partner? Based on my experience, it cannot do a thang! How do people cope with internet love?
So summarily my weekend was a bore, though twas good having a “me time”, am still home alone awaiting Dh’s arrival, and I realized that one is good but two is definitely better, I realized how much I missed my Dh, nobody to switch stations to super sports, or al jazeera, or argue politics, no one to cook for even at odd hours of the day, no pillow fights (u know what I mean), and if the days were long, the nights were much longer…
In short, this is a ranting of a woman missing her boo, Period!
and I miss those heels
and I miss those heels
As I count down the days, I am a little excited, a little anxious, a little worried and this is not my first time. I have travelled down this road 5 years ago, but this time around, it is a new ball game entirely.
Like they say, “no pregnancy is the same”. I am loaded with so many emotions time and my adrenaline level has risen above the normal.
Sometimes I feel like kicking my husby after all, he put me in this situation, but I know that all eyebrows are raised with the expression “after all you gave your consent”, yeah right, I did!
I am waiting patiently for my EDD, and I try to imagine how that day will come, will my waters break, will it be in the day or at night, do I need an epidural, I hope there won’t be any tears, should I insist that husby stays in the delivery room, I hope there won’t be traffic? These were my top questions at the moment, but all these were secondary compared to missing those heels.
I am a five inch something, and if you know what I mean, heels are this girl’s best friend till am old and grey. It can be so annoying to wear flat pumps, sandals and sports shoes, I mean I miss those heels.
Those heels give me confidence, carriage, poise, grace and it sure comes in handy when I am in danger, there is nothing as painful as being stepped upon with a killer heel. Those faithful heels are my best friend and foe, while giving me poise; it also gives me those annoying cramps.
But I am content with having to wait, after all it’s only a whole nine months. I know I will be rewarded with cute smiles, loud burps, funny words, tantrums and the rest of them.
So I lie in my bed smiling with content knowing that there is no pain no gain. For the umpteenth time, I miss those heels!
As I count down the days, I am a little excited, a little anxious, a little worried and this is not my first time. I have travelled down this road 5 years ago, but this time around, it is a new ball game entirely.
Like they say, “no pregnancy is the same”. I am loaded with so many emotions time and my adrenaline level has risen above the normal.
Sometimes I feel like kicking my husby after all, he put me in this situation, but I know that all eyebrows are raised with the expression “after all you gave your consent”, yeah right, I did!
I am waiting patiently for my EDD, and I try to imagine how that day will come, will my waters break, will it be in the day or at night, do I need an epidural, I hope there won’t be any tears, should I insist that husby stays in the delivery room, I hope there won’t be traffic? These were my top questions at the moment, but all these were secondary compared to missing those heels.
I am a five inch something, and if you know what I mean, heels are this girl’s best friend till am old and grey. It can be so annoying to wear flat pumps, sandals and sports shoes, I mean I miss those heels.
Those heels give me confidence, carriage, poise, grace and it sure comes in handy when I am in danger, there is nothing as painful as being stepped upon with a killer heel. Those faithful heels are my best friend and foe, while giving me poise; it also gives me those annoying cramps.
But I am content with having to wait, after all it’s only a whole nine months. I know I will be rewarded with cute smiles, loud burps, funny words, tantrums and the rest of them.
So I lie in my bed smiling with content knowing that there is no pain no gain. For the umpteenth time, I miss those heels!
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