"YOU CAN BE SEXY AND NOT BE NAKED"~ EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH WUNMI ABE

Let's Chat with Wunmi Abe...?

It is a new year, probably a time to write new year resolutions. But for me, I kick off this year with this exclusive interview with an extraordinary lady who has won my heart over with her love for God. Wunmi Conga, like I fondly prefer to call her is full of energy and excitement. I enjoyed chatting with her, and I couldn't stop laughing throughout our conversation. I kept laughing. When I finally met her in person, I was awed by her simplicity and genuine desire to simply praise God and bring down the presence of God in worship.

Wunmi Abe is happily married, a mother of three, and has a masters in human resources. She is not one of those persons who want to be at the front. She prefers to work magic behind the curtain. She is a worshiper at heart who is crazy for God. Indeed, she has a big time passion to worship, to praise and impact the youths.

Since her music reaches out to people across diverse races, and I know that my American friends cannot get over the song, I asked what her inspiration is with "Dance For you",  Wunmi says her dream is to sing songs to impact people, songs that young people are crazy about. She describes how the inspiration to sing Conga came about; "I  sat down with my manager and we just started singing, conga came to mind. God reminded me to stop dancing secular songs, and since good beats gets me dancing, so I thought I would sing a song with a good beat that can get everyone dancing too. Hahahahahaha... Actually, I had written the lyrics months ahead.

What is unique about the kind of music you do?

Laughing, Wunmi responded, "I listen to great musicians, not purely Nigerian musicians.  I want my music to be diverse though it has a Nigerian feel to it. I don't just want to be a Nigerian artist, I want to do something that cuts across the world.

What's your favorite perfume?

"I'm not a perfume person. I'm not eccentric. I just look good". So, now you know, when next you want to buy sister Wunmi a gift, don't buy her perfumes. She loves shoes.  Lol. Just saying.

What is your vision?

I believe that I am called out to young girls, rape victims, pregnant young women. I am not called to everyone. I hope to impact the younger generation such that they will know that serving God is fun, and you can be trendy as a christian

When asksed what's something people don't know about her. Wunmi laughs and says, you mean something crazy? "Hahahaha... Truth is I say what's on my mind. I'm not wishywashy. What you see is what you get.  I am adventurous but not spontaneous". The most most adventourous places she loves are Egypt because of the pyramids, Israel, where Jesus walked.

What is your secret to success?

"Wunmi music wasn't set up to make money initially. My secret fomular is God. He will tell you what to do. You would need discipline too - put your all in it. Excellence is key to success, no mediocrity. God is a God of excellence. Love is my working formula, I might not like you but I have to love you, and finally, be at peace with all".

Giving a word of advice to young people out there, Wunmi says "love God. Love God for all because at the end of the day we will still run back to Him, we answer to God. Know God and serve Him with all your heart".

Click on this video to listen to her music...

MY MOTHER'S LOVE FOR AIRPLANES

This poem is dedicated to my Mom. I remember fondly how she sits out at the balcony in our house and watch the airplanes take off and land. It always amused us, that is I and my siblings, how she sat there for hours mesmerized by the beauty of the view and enjoying it . She would talk nonstop about the splendor of airplanes, yet she dreaded flying. I always wondered at this contrast. Today, I understand how she saw airplanes and agree with her that they are indeed majestic, queens of their runway and incomparable to any other means of transportation. Hahahahaha....
I love you Mumma, I wish I had a picture of you looking at an airplane instead of having to borrow a picture that looks nothing like you. LOL. But you understand it is just to depict how you watch airplanes. Lol. Enjoy...Viola!

Again,  I looked out the window and reveled in her beauty. 
She was indeed magnificent as she stood in elegance.
She was everything I imagined her to be. 

I stood and stared as she made her way to the gate.
Her gait on the runway reminded me of nothing but a proud peacock. Swaying from side to side,  she rode in smooth succession until she arrived at the gate.

On the run way,  her elegant stride was not be compared to anyway strut or catwalk I ever saw. None of the Marc Jacobs, Muicia Prada, Giorgio Armani, runway shows could compare to watching her.

She was indeed a queen. The Queen of the runway!
I smiled as I saw her take off. She flew like she owned the air.

Gliding and sliding,  she flew higher.

I drew in my breath knowing that my fear of heights did nothing to stop me from admiring this beauty in all its splendor and elegance.

Elegance,  yes elegant was how I described her yet I felt guilty that that word did not do justice in describing her.

She was... Um.. Um..

I tried again to seek a word to describe her but failed to find the perfect word. So I settled for elegance. Not even my huge French vocabulary could help me in this case. I felt helpless.
But then I brightened up as I saw her up the sky in the fullness of her glory.  She was all I imagined.

Oh!  How I love airplanes. 
Strange kinda love, but worth it.  I'm a satisfied lover.


Oh airplanes!!! 

BE ENCOURAGED!!!

  This is one of those days when this word is possibly more for me, but I hope it encourages you too.

MY PRAYER FOR NIGERIA AT 54!

I hardly would love to blog about this but I think I should point out a few things. I am proudly Nigeria and I know a couple of people who are too. But our beloved nation is 54 years since independence, I do not intend to count the many factors mitigating development in Nigeria neither is this intended to count our many blessings like the adverse penetration of internet, the free and fair election held last summer in Ekiti or the rise of Nigeria as the number one economic giant in Africa, surpassing South Africa and Egypt, this note is an outcry to say to the elites, the educated few that it is time to make a difference.

Our fine author claimed that the 'beautiful ones are not yet born', but I say we are the beautiful ones. It is time for a positive change in Nigeria. We are the change catalyst. Let us continue to push towards a better Nigeria. I do not seek an Utopian government but all I ask is PEACE. Peace in the North, an end to Boko Haram, Ebola and the recovery of 'our girls', peace for the churches, peace in our streets and homes, peace...

I pray for Nigeria that the peace of God will reign in our land. I pray that the Almighty will arise and flood His light on our land, I pray for our leaders that they will do what is right and will not be won over by selfish desires. I pray for wisdom, understanding and the fear of God for our leaders. I pray for our spiritual leaders that they would indeed do the will of God. I pray for the youth that they will be willing to stand for righteousness...

Oh my Nigeria! My heart prays for you...

MY AFRICAN MAN!

My eyes were gradually getting accustomed to the darkness. It's been three whole days that I have been locked away in this hole, called a room. The wedding is next day, and just like every bride, I had the pre-wedding jitters. I was excited, anxious and scared. The clutter of feelings was something I had yet to understand, but the marriage itself was not what scared me the most. It was the rigorous process I had to go through, and what I am still going through that has my mind stirred.

I did not understand a culture that locked a bride up for days just to keep her from the public.

I mean I am an educated, Harvard graduate for that matter. How in the heavens did I find myself in this position? I longed for an explanation, but nothing Nne Ude said helped quell the curiosity in my heart.

When I said yes to the man I loved, the whispering of his sweet rubbish did nothing to prepare me for this barbarous tradition. 

I desired an escape. I longed for freedom. 

Oh! Why didn't we just elope and marry through the drive thru wedding places in Las Vegas? Why? I asked no one in particular. 

This culture is crazy, bizarre.  I muttered for the umpteenth time. I had planned escape every now and then, especially as the lady, that was called Nne Ude, came in each day. I was aggravated and could not believe I consented to being locked up. Was I that desperate to marry this African man?

"Omene, Omene. We are bringing you some food". I heard Nne Ude call out from outside. Turning the key, I heard the door creak gently under  the pressure of Nne Ude's strong hands. Flinging the door open, she walked into the room with such grace and gait, I concluded that she cannot possibly come from this rural community called a village. Nne Ude was the eldest woman in the clan and she was the only one authorized to see the bride before the wedding day. She brought food for me daily and water to wash. "Wash! Oh that. Hmmpphh...",  I sighed. I remembered how I luxuriously took my time letting the warm water pour on me in my Atlanta house, as a flood of anger and sadness filled me. I never imagined bathing to be something done with a bucket, black soap and some napkins. "All these for Chidi?", I asked myself again.

Adjusting my eyes to the sunlight, I opened the left eye first, then the right. I never thought I would look forward to sunlight this much, or even the chirping of birds. I took in my environment with a new found appreciation to nature. I raised my face to the west wind and embraced the cold harmattan breeze on my face.

"Omene, you must let us braid your hair tonight, okay?", Nne Ude said.

I smiled. "Why should my hair be braided? Isn't it my wedding? Don't I even have a say on how I want to look on my most precious day?", I wondered.

Nne Ude sat with me and talked some more about the whole process. I was not interested but I listened. All I wanted was to be with my groom and get back to Atlanta. I decided I was never going to set foot on Africa soil again. Where I come from, we believe strongly in liberty. So with everything within me, I sought for that freedom.

Finally, the D-day came. I was so ecstatic! At last, the ceremony would end and my misery will go away. I was mad at Chidi for letting them lock me up, but I also remembered the times when he asked me over and over if  I was certain I wanted to perform the traditional rites. He actually offered me a wedding in Atlanta, with just his family and mine, but I wanted to visit Africa. "Hmmm...", I sighed. Maybe I should have said yes to a wedding in Atlanta instead of this days of darkness, loneliness and anger, but I was soon to forget my sorrow as I heard the music.

First, the harmonious music from the talking drums woke me. It was beautiful to be woken by the sound of singing. It felt like heaven; like the angels sang just for me. I never thought music made from anything other than contemporary drums, guitar, and grand piano would be so glorious. Anyway, taking my mind off the drummers, I looked down at the African attire Nne Ude had adorned me in. I have not seen my reflection in the mirror, but the pain from the braids I had plaited yesterday discouraged me from asking for a mirror. I just went to bed.

"Omene, you look like a bride now", Nne Ude said grinning from ear to ear, jutting me out of my misgiving. Pushing me with the kindest touch I have ever felt, she turned me toward the mirror. I could not believe the reflection. I looked just like a photo in Elle magazine. I was beauty personified, I must confess. Wow! What did Nne Ude do to me? How did she turn me into a goddess; into a true beauty? How? Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of the times, during these past few days, when I thought of choking her to death for locking me up.

"What is wrong, Omene?", Nne Ude asked me when she saw the tears stream down my face.

I could not find words to express myself, I just laughed and hugged her.

"Now, let's go and get you married", she said to me.

The wedding ceremony was never like I imagined. Not even all of the many tales Chidi told me about his culture prepared me for this kind of celebration. I felt loved and wanted by this community. The whole village came out in singing and dancing just to witness my marriage to Chidi. Wow! Who would do that for you in the US? I thought. This was different. Indeed!

After the priest pronounced us husband and wife, we were escorted to the edge of the town with  merriment, as the people chanted I and Chidi's name. For some reason they could not pronounce my American name and resorted to calling me Omene. Nne Ude says it means gift from heaven. I liked the meaning of the name and did not bother protesting about calling me by original birth name.

Being in Chidi's arms, I was overjoyed and glad that I was finally free from the clutches  of customs and traditions. Ha! Who has heard of a wedding ceremony that took three whole weeks to happen? I mean the wedding starts from the first week and ends on the last day of the third week. Wow! What a tradition!

As I wrapped myself in Chidi's arms I was glad I did not give up on his culture. It was a strange and a new experience for me, but it opened my eyes to a different phase of life. To a culture that loved you irrespective of where you were from. That was a new kind of freedom I think the world should know about. The freedom to choose whom to marry and where to marry without fear of stigmatization. Wow! I am married to an African man! I chuckled and snuggled closer to my husband.

Staring far into space, I remembered Nne Ude again and I missed her.

*Picture credit: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=SVNm2kaUUQc5GM&tbnid=0bMRpDrg-AYD8M:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkwekudee-tripdownmemorylane.blogspot.com%2F2013%2F06%2Fedo-people-africas-most-popular-and.html&ei=DUv7U7yVB8OfyASrh4GYDw&bvm=bv.73612305,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNFysUSKSUGN8MJ4GY-oLLDtSXgFCw&ust=1409063618900180

ROBIN WILLIAMS DEAD!

The Oscar-winning actor and comedian who just turned sixty-three on July 21st has died. I remember him in Mrs Doubtfire, Aladdin, License to wed, The big wedding and Jumanji, these were movies I watched and cherished as a child. It is a great loss that a man of such art and finesse has left this world.

CNN reports that he hanged himself with a belt. A lot of talk has been going on about his suicide and the fact that he has been going through depression.Looking at his always smiling face, no one would have guessed his death was soon. In all the facade of fame, one thing we know is Mr. Robin William was human. Though famous, he had a life. He was a family man. And I pray for strength for his family.

And like every time I blog about the demise of a celebrity, I pray one prayer;  Lord, I hope his salvation was intact and he knew Jesus.

I do not care what the world and society thinks, but if this is what it takes to proclaim that Jesus can come for anyone at anytime, I am not ashamed to proclaim that heaven is real.

No matter your career, as we busy ourselves with life, let us be reminded that death can make eternity come sooner than expected or planned. Be prepared for eternity, whether you are famous or not. 

NANNIES, TO HAVE OR NOT TO?

Would you subscribe to having a nanny? Or would you say no to a nanny? Some people say nannies have been over rated, others believe that nannies are every family's blessing as they seem be a saving grace in taking care of house chores and the 'children'.

Nannies, have been given different names from corporate maids to house maids. Some even prefer to exalt the job and call them domestic helps. While others think the job is a more deregotary kind, and this earned nannies to be labeled slaves. Whichever, school of thought you are, nannies are humans and should be treated with respect. However, do you consider keeping a nanny, a blessing or a curse?

Growing up as child, we had a nanny that we all adored. She was considered part of the family as she was a live in maid, she helped with most of the chores and ensured we are in our best behavior. She was enrolled in a private secretarial school of her choice, as her dream was to be a secretary (which at the time sounded honorable, though my father would have picked a better choice of school for her and preferred if she went to a university instead. You know how fathers can be, lol). Anyway, this post is not about my nanny but I totally loved and love her for the woman she is. To aunty Fanny,God bless you for all your tutoring and blessings in our lives.

Moving on, there is this story I heard about about a couple who could not conceive for a very long time after marriage. After 15years, God answered their prayer and blessed them with a baby boy. Being working parents, they left their infant in the hands of their nanny to care for while they pursued money. Like every other day, the nanny was bathing the baby when he slipped from her hands and fell into the bathing water. I'm not certain how the story got so gory, but the baby died. And the nanny pretending like all was well, dressed the dead child and lay him on his cot, but was apprehended by nosy neighbors when she tried to escape.

I heave a real sad sigh at this story. So once again, I ask, nannies, to have or not to?

IF YOU COULD BUY ANY PART OF THE WORLD, WHERE WOULD YOU OWN?

I giggle as I post this. A lot of places interest me and I have lounged with the dream of places I wish I owned so that I could do as I willed with them.

So my favorite place in the whole world is PARIS!  Paris is the most expensive city, maybe in the world. Someone has teased me that I love expensive places and things because of my tribe. Well, I'm not certain if my love for Paris has anything to do with expenditure but more to do with the romantic atmosphere and the very lush feel of "Français parlé sur les lèvres sur les hommes aux yeux verts beau qui me parlaient". Lol. Try to translate that if you want to know what I mean. Anyway, initially I thought I would be satisfied with just having the Mont Saint Michel Island, but I fell in love even more with the Loire Valley known as the Garden of France, Place de la Concorde, and Louvre.

Therefore, my conclusion of the whole matter is that I want FRANCE!!! All of it....Hahahahahahaha

So, I am throwing the question back to you....

Let's see what you've got. I want to see more of the world.

A NEW WAVE OF LOVE STORY: CROSS CULTURAL MARRIAGE

Their love was not the love at first sight kind, it grew gradually and became a palace of love unending. She is from the Western part of Nigeria and he was from the East. Naturally, just like coke and fanta don't mix, there were a few un-clandestine opinion why this Igbo and Yoruba business should not be. But God proved that He was indeed a God beyond races, tribes and culture. At their wedding, friends concluded that this was indeed a union made in heaven as there was just so much love. Hot love like a friend tagged what she saw between the couple. LOL.

Need I tell you how this love story started, but Obiora pursued Ope with all his might, soul, and money!!! Yes, ego, owo, kudi, clean MONEY!!! Hahahahahahhha... Well, I can tell you about the proposal. They both had different friends weddings to attend, one cool Saturday. After the wedding, unknown to Ope, Obi had told his friends and her friends to meet somewhere for a little 'yummy-chummy' time. The plan was for Ope to meet Obi there, and naturally Ope thought her sweet darling just wanted to take her for light dinner after a long day being a bride's maid at her friend's wedding. Well, Ope gets there, there are lots of friends but she thinks it is just one of those days where they all gist and play catch up with their friends. Then Obi gets up, takes the mic and sings his favorite John Legend. And boy, Obi sung, I mean sang! Mehn!! That groom can sing. Lol. Anyway, back to the story, Ope looks on, shy but very proud of her bobo. Until he comes to her, kneels on one knee did she understand what was about to happen. Amid tears of joy, surprise, pride and all kinds of emotions that was churning in her tummy, Ope said Yes to Obi's Will you marry me? And that began the preparation for this 'sweet hot like fire love'. LOL.

Anyway, to celebrate this beautiful couple, who are my friends I say happy married life. To Ope and Obi (With my wine glass lifted up. LOL), I say more love, more blessings, more thanksgiving, more grace, more favor, more God, and many many many more....

Congratulations my people. Love you loads.

WHAT TO FIND IN A MAN'S POCKET

I laugh out loud even as I write this piece. I have always wondered what goes in  any man's pockets. For a woman, it is almost easy to guess what goes into her purse or bag. You can easily make a list of things to find in a woman's bag; make up kit, lip gloss, gum, pen, tampons, moisturizers, credit cards, loose change, mirror, perfume/deodorant, and so on. The list sometimes is endless as you might even find weird or strange items like a weight scale-- just saying.

Anyway, having established it is an easy guess on discovering what to find in a woman's bag, what then can we find in a man's pocket, especially as these pockets look small from the outside? Dipping my hands in a man's pocket brought me to the realization that it is far deeper than it looks. So here's eleven things you would likely find in the pocket of a man:

11) Pocket Watch

10) Wallet

9)   Keys

8) Credit cards

7) Mints

6) Nail clipper

5) Pen

4) Flashlight

3) Hair brush

2) Cell phone

1) Flash Drive

So, that is it! When next you wonder what stays in a man's pocket, you can  refer to this checklist. Lol. 

MY LAGOS!

Amazed, I stood and looked out of the window. It is amazing how everybody is in a hurry in Lagos. 

Hmmm, I better start my story from the top. I got a call yesterday to attend an interview with a prestigious media company I have always desired to work in. Relieved and excited, I took the next available flight to Lagos. I took a cab to Uncle Danny’s house.

5AM, the next day I was already all dressed to be at Victoria Island.

‘Nene, I am sorry I cannot drop you off but you can take the BRT buses, okay?’ Uncle Danny explained.

Grateful to Governor Fashola, I sat in the bus at 5:20am, on my way to CMS.

“Ole, ole!!!" I heard someone scream and people looked in the direction.

“Abeg give me my money, I no wan hear story o!” The one screaming thief said, holding on strong to the trousers of the other man.

I looked on as the story unfolded. People stopped to look at what transpires, before we knew it a small mob gathered.

“ I go kill you for here o! You chop witch? Abeg gimme my money”, the angry man continued.

At that point, the traffic chose to move and my bus moved on. Pained, I looked out the window hoping I got to know the whole story. But who am I? A journalist? At all… Lol

Luckily, I got to the place of the interview just in time. I spent the whole day there as there were over a thousand of us, and I wondered at the multitude. The interview, or rather aptitude test took only about minutes and I was vexed that the company made me ‘waste my whole day’ standing under the sun. Mtshew! I hissed. And it was not like I even knew Quantitative Reasoning; someone should have warned me to study the GMAT package more. Ha!

In my annoyance, I focused my energy on finding the next available bus home. Getting to the bus station, the long queue for BRT buses was discouraging. Checking my purse, I counted the change in it and contemplated taking a yellow cab home. I was too tired to stand much longer after standing all day under the sun, not to mention at how my tummy growled and announced to everyone who stood an inch to me that I was starved.

“Kai, me ne ne? I muttered.

I flagged a cab down and he called a ridiculous fare, aggravated I practically pursued the cab man off. Turning around I saw an approaching BRT bus, thanking my God, I started towards the bus. Despite the queue, mehn! You needed to see pushing. One man actually jumped through the window to get a seat, a woman was almost run over by people. Scared, I clutched my bag and just stared at the scramble. Hmmmm… I thought.

Who sent me to Lagos State? I asked no one in particular.

WHAT IS CHIMAMANDA ADICHIE'S AMERICANAH REALLY ABOUT?

If you have read Chimananda Adichie's Americanah, please I would be glad to hear your thoughts on the book. I have read most of her works, but this is one that got my interest big time. I am hoping people can share their thoughts on this book...

BE INSPIRED!

This is one of those days, I wake with an urge to encourage someone. So my word to you is: hang in there, God has you covered!

HOW TO LOVE THAT DAD!

FATHER: I searched deep and wide
seas, oceans, trees, sky
books, encyclopedia..
words to express my gratitude.

I looked within
Then I knew no words can describe the depth of my love for you
For the many words of wisdom
For direction, guidance
For believing in  me
And today, I am a dream come true
Indeed, no bride price would be enough to repay you

All because you Fathered me
For all the many ways you are my dad
For all that you do
For all the mistakes you've made in which I drew strength from
For all you are and much more
I say Happy Father's Day dad!!!!

Your Love for Ma, me and my siblings
Know no bounds...
For teaching and showing us God, I say thank you

And to a happily ever after,
I say I love you dad!!!

#Now that's my poem to my dad, I know it's past Father's day but never late to serenade your dad. It's so easy to talk about mothers and their endless care for the family, what about the little and great things fathers do? Wherever you are or from, share with the world and celebrate your dad here!!!

#Also, here are some notes from friends to their fathers.

# To fathers all over the world, I celebrate you!!!!

My father is not just one of those biological fathers that some may refer to as a "sperm donor", he is my daddy and the best one I could every ask for. He has raised me to be a woman that values family.  He taught me that those around us, our family and friends, are who make our lives have true meaning, purpose, and love.  God has given him a second chance as he almost lost his life once before on the small cold operating table in Piedmont hospital.  I knew that God had a bigger plan even before he stepped foot in the hospital.  His health is not perfect but again I believe in the healing power of God and that we as his family and friend represent love in his life and through love his body will be healed. I love my daddy as a child should love the man that gave her everything and treated her like a princess.  Happy Father's Day daddy. ~ Funlola Gaddis

My Daddy's Love Language

It's interesting how everyone loves, but in their own very distinct way. I guess a person's love language is who they are. 

The man I call daddy, didn't just father me - He earned the name! 5 decades and still counting, he goes by the name William O. Adusa. 

It is said that when someone loves you, they want your happiness. How is one expected to say 'No' to your every whim and caprice, knowing it will crush you, and still hope that you know he loves you? How is one supposed to show the child of his body all the love in the world, and yet still make sure the child knows how unsafe a place the world is? How sure can you be that when your son finally chooses the course of life to chart, you will be his role model? Or who could ever compete with a mother's love and not look stupid in the process? Welcome to the dilemma that is fatherhood. 

Shouting and yet whispering, beating and yet directing, bruising and yet healing, ignoring and yet desperate to hear the right thing, letting go and get holding on with the invisible hands of the heart

Oh! it has taken me 22 years to realize that every firm act, every stern word, every harsh decision was laced with desperate desire to smother with the reality of these words in barest whisper: "I love you, son" 

So why so tough a language form? Because he has to be daddy and not mummy - you see, a rose has to have thorns as well which protect it's beautiful flower. 

So Thank you daddy, for being the harder of love's two sides, without which the child would be incomplete... I LOVE YOU completely! ~David William-Adusa.

I miss my daddy so much ! Love you dad! No one can take ur place,thank you for being in my life! I'm at who I am today because of you and your courage! Happy Father's Day! ~Malika Akhunova.

‎People say they have the best dad in d world, I say I have the most remarkable,unique and loving father in the universe... The most understanding,loving,tolerant and intelligent man I've ever known,a man with an exemplary attitude and life style with the ability to spur you to be the best you can be... Ask me of a great man and hero and I will show you my loving and cute dad. ~ Olayinka Bakare.

A father is one of the most unsung, unpraised, unnoticed and yet one of the most important assets in society. The stories are unending to be told and your sacrifices unbelievable. I look back and yes, you made me who I am today. May the good Lord preserve your life and grant you many years on earth and surely, i'll make you smile someday. Happy Father's Day, Mr. Akwasi Yeboah. ~ Fred Yeboah.

‎My father , oooh my father! You are a great teacher, a great mentor, a God fearing man , a high class smarty , the only pilot that can fly me anytime. I love you very much and I am so proud to be your daughter. I won't say we do not have our disagreements but you are always looking out for me and my siblings and I appreciate all you love and care greatly . I pray that the lord will keep you in Good health to see my children's children. ~ Esther Ugorji.

‎This Father's Day I'd love to honor and celebrate my dad. He is such a hardworking man and I'd like to say Happy happy Father's Day daddy. So thankful to The Lord that He blessed my life with the greatest gift a daughter could have, the love of a father like him, whose heart is modeled after Christ's own heart. My dad has always been there for me and my sister. Thanking him for all he does for our family, Tsits, moms and I are truly thankful. Big thank you for always being there through thick and thin. We love you daddy, may you be celebrated and blessed not just today, but everyday of your life! ❤️ ~ Nyari Chanakira.

NIGERIAN-IRAN GAME: 0-0

Whoah!! I sat, expectant, hoping and watching with many Nigerians, waiting to hear 'IT'S A GOAAAAALLL'. But that did not happen. I am not a soccer fan, yet this particular game I decided to be a proper Nigerian. Whatever that even means. Lol. I believe some people stopped all they were doing to watch this match, even #very important things, yet, Nigeria did not even score ONE-- one goal to atleast show that that 90minutes plus commercials was not a waste. Chai!!! Dairis God o!!!! 

POPULAR BRANAMA CROONER DEAD!

Today is one of those days one looks back and takes stock of their life. I woke up not knowing what to expect but reading about the death of a woman I know personally, not just on screen or the air waves has put in me emotions I cannot even begin to explain.

I met Kefee about 8years ago at her home/office in Ikeja, Lagos Nigeria when she granted me an interview for my radio show-- Gospel Splash, a gospel music show with Radio Nigeria. I loved chatting with her and I left her home/office that day feeling like we shared a bond. Years later, she responded to a message I sent her confirming that she remembers our meeting very well and part of the message she said, "Of course I rember U sis...". I hoped to interview her again here and provide exclusive gist on her recent life, however, death stole her from us. #sad.

Kefee is talented and her unique voice no one can replace. I hoped and hoped and hoped that fame did not steal her from her first love--God. I watched her earlier videos and recent videos, and though I commend her achievements, I still hoped she was the beautiful person at heart that I met who just loved God and who wanted to just go about proclaiming 'branama'. 

I am sad that Kefee died. She just left the world, just like that, dying... Oh my!!! #sighs.

Above all else, I hope her salvation was intact. I pray for her family. It is well...

MY SISTER'S WALK TO FREEDOM!

My sister wrote this story, and I must not take credit for her creativity. Join me and celebrate her wonderfully done story...lol

MY WALK TO FREEDOM

She reached out, pulled me down on my knees and unto her laps. The faint smell of Spring bathing soap hit my nostrils as I placed my head gently on her wrapper. I sniff and feel the soft sob racking her slim frame. The hot tears drop on my body warming up my very cold heart. I did not blink or even turn my face to look up at  her. If I did, she would drag me into her little pity party and drown us all. Tears showed weakness and sometimes some people deserve to see all your strengths. Her small soft palms slowly massaged my bony shoulders and I visibly relaxed, letting the tension, stress, pain melt away. The pain that leaves my heart thudding like a slowly winding down bell. Anyway, I am now immune to it. It no longer matters how much he hurt me. What I needed was a plan, an opportunity make papa see  the stuff I am made of.

Mama kept shaking her leg in that absent-minded way of hers and my head almost rolled off her laps. I jerked upwards immediately but her hand stopped me, firmly but gently pushing my head back down. My mama, my only true friend. Sometimes, I wonder what she thought of me. A child forsaken by the gods? Stubborn and untamable? At least that's what papa always says;

"She is too stubborn for her own good..."

But what does papa even understand about what is good for me. To my papa, girls are only as good as their 'ofe owerri' that is, our native soup and their child bearing ability. If he was god, women will not be allowed to walk on the same paths that men walked on, they would be covered from head to toe in black coveralls and never to be seen except when food is needed or the urge for sex overwhelms him. Even at that, a man like papa will kill the urge before it makes him display affection at his wife. I shake my head as images of his huge dark frame fills my mind. I believe that shaking your heads rids it of ill thoughts, this time around however, it did not seem to be working. Images of papa barking out commands to me and Ukachukwu, my elder sister did little to calm me down as I watched the movie replaying in my head.

That evening, I had sneaked out to study with Oneku and Chioma, my two best friends. papa forbids studying after school. He believes women should practice their cooking skills or try to please their brothers in whatever way possible instead of studying. Six hours of school was enough for a girl-child, moreover, what is the point of the whole education when she will still end up in the kitchen? That is papa's theory.

 As for me, I want to be a doctor. The white coats intrigues me and the air of importance fills me with such longing. Sometimes, I imagine I am the minister of Health in Nigeria. If  papa could read my thoughts, I would have been long dead. His TufiaKwa would be loud enough to rouse amadiohia, the village god from the spirit world. Tufiakwa was  something he did with his fingers to signify he forbids a thing from happening. As if that really works any wonders. Anyway, as I was saying, we finished very late and as usual, I tried to sneak back into I and Ukachukwu's room only to see papa sitting down on the veranda smoking cigarette and drinking dry gin. I stopped in my tracks and watched him a little. He was obviously very upset. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I thought of the best ways to end the nightmare when I saw Ukachukwu sitting on the bare floor beside him. Her fair skin shone in the moonlight and the painful threads poked out like horns on her head. My heart beat faster as I walked towards them. Papa watched me come closer and answered my greetings quietly. I could see the tear stains on Ukachukwu's face. Once I entered my room, I realized I had made a big mistake because I could hear papa's heavy breathing behind me. I did not have time to scream before he began to pummel me. Mama and Ukachukwu watched the fiasco from a safe distance, terrified that he would add them to it if they said a word. After he was satisfied that he had taught me another good lesson, he walked away feeling like a king and mama rushed to me sobbing her poor heart out. The fear of papa is the beginning of wisdom though I was yet to get wise. The love for medicine drove me. Like a woman in love, medicine became my lover.

 Now, it's been twenty years past, and my once strong and agile papa has become frail and weak. Needing constant care after I diagnosed him of diabetes. No thanks to his habit of constantly eating 'eba', a traditionally made cassava flour meal. Mama is equally old but happy. I watch her chat animatedly with my son, her grandson and for a minute I close my eyes and say a silent prayer to God. I thank Him for taking care of me when I ran away from the house and only mama knew where I was. I thank Him for blessing mama so she could send me some feeding money while I worked and studied at the university of Lagos. I thank him for letting me achieve my dream. And now, I am  a practicing doctor and a women empowerment activist. Papa cannot believe it's still the same me when he hears me give speeches on the television. I see the shock and pride on his face. I smile to myself and wink at mama who gave me a chance at independence.

It is amazing that I can sit back today and enjoy my profession, only because I chose to be free from the clutches of traditions and rural imprisonment. If I had honestly paid heed to Papa, I won't be a doctor today. So, to my God and western education I say thank you for freedom. Yes, freedom to life and education and not wasting my skills in the kitchen. Laughing out loud... What a world we live in!