Agbada

My dearest friend, Nuella wrote this poem which I love and think is quite true of the "big man" on our streets.

Agbada; the flowing side weaved robe,
usually embroidered, draped on strong shoulders
like majesty
worn throughout Nigeria by important men
and each fiber says ceremony.

Agbada, yours is pure white with
gold embroidery. You are pot bellied and
yellow eyed, the signs of a chief,
the signs of one who has consumed beer
and gin for a lifetime; the signs of age.

You roll off white bed sheets that have
been soiled with the scent and sweat of
another woman, the one whose generator fuel
and rent you pay for. The one whose legs part open
for wealthy living. The one who is a validation of
your ‘African masculinity’.  The one whose plan is to marry
you and change her fortunes.
“Husband snatcher”,it will roll off women’s tongues like acid
when they see her with you
wearing her matching iro and buba.

After the weekly deed, you put on your
crisp agbada again, then step into the streets
oozing importance, and prosperity;

Agbada, the cloth of a big man,
“oga oooo!” they hail you exuberantly on the outside
but at home you make your wife feel small,
aren’t you then small for it?

For more of Nuella's poems visit her blog http://nuellaswords.wordpress.com/

How to Catch a Rich Man!

A friend of mine sent me this link. I found the topic quite interesting so I've decided to share :)!


A young and pretty lady posted this on a popular forum:

Title: What should I do to marry a rich guy?

I’m going to be honest of what I’m going to say here.
I’m 25 this year. I’m very pretty, have style and good taste. I wish to marry a guy with $500k annual salary or above.You might say that I’m greedy, but an annual salary of $1M is considered only as middle class in New York.
My requirement is not high. Is there anyone in this forum who has an income of $500k annual salary? Are you all married?
I wanted to ask: what should I do to marry rich persons like you?
Among those I’ve dated, the richest is $250k annual income, and it seems that this is my upper limit.
If someone is going to move into high cost residential area on the west of New York City Garden(?), $250k annual income is not enough.
I’m here humbly to ask a few questions:

1) Where do most rich bachelors hang out? (Please list down the names and addresses of bars, restaurant, gym)
2) Which age group should I target?
3) Why most wives of the riches are only average-looking? I’ve met a few girls who don’t have looks and are not interesting, but they are able to marry rich guys.
4) How do you decide who can be your wife, and who can only be your girlfriend? (my target now is to get married)
Ms. Pretty

A philosophical reply from CEO of J.P. Morgan:

Dear Ms. Pretty,
I have read your post with great interest. Guess there are lots of girls out there who have similar questions like yours. Please allow me to analyse your situation as a professional investor.
My annual income is more than $500k, which meets your requirement, so I hope everyone believes that I’m not wasting time here.From the standpoint of a business person, it is a bad decision to marry you. The answer is very simple, so let me explain.
Put the details aside, what you’re trying to do is an exchange of “beauty” and “money” : Person A provides beauty, and Person B pays for it, fair and square.
However, there’s a deadly problem here, your beauty will fade, but my money will not be gone without any good reason. The fact is, my income might increase from year to year, but you can’t be prettier year after year. Hence from the viewpoint of economics, I am an appreciation asset, and you are a depreciation asset. It’s not just normal depreciation, but exponential depreciation. If that is your only asset, your value will be much worse 10 years later.
By the terms we use in Wall Street, every trading has a position, dating with you is also a “trading position”.
If the trade value dropped we will sell it and it is not a good idea to keep it for long term - same goes with the marriage that you wanted. It might be cruel to say this, but in order to make a wiser decision any assets with great depreciation value will be sold or “leased”.
Anyone with over $500k annual income is not a fool; we would only date you, but will not marry you. I would advice that you forget looking for any clues to marry a rich guy. And by the way, you could make yourself to become a rich person with $500k annual income.This has better chance than finding a rich fool.

Hope this reply helps.

signed,
J.P. Morgan CEO

(Photo credit: Google images)

"A wife of noble character who can find?

    She is worth far more than rubies.

Her husband has full confidence in her

    and lacks nothing of value.

She brings him good, not harm,

    all the days of her life." 

Proverbs 31:1-3 (N.I.V)

Sincerely,

Cee

10 Reasons why I love Reading

Image source: http://booksdirect.tumblr.com

I saw this picture on a blog and I couldn't stop laughing! It reminded me of Nigerian home videos that use almost thirty minutes to show different adverts for upcoming movies and commercials before the main movie even starts. I read because of the following reasons:

1.  I can. :p (It's sad how many can't read because of  inadequate resources, funds or national crisis)

2. It provides a way of escape (although short-lived). It's sometimes easier to lose myself in a book that to face reality.

3. I love it!!!

4. It offers me the opportunity to let loose my imagination, be fearless with no regard for anyone's feelings

5. I want to be powerful (Laughs). My elementary teacher told me that Knowledge is power so I want to know as much as I can.

6. It is way better than staring at the ceiling or trying to understand the logic behind the dry joke the guy across from me is saying .

7. I have nothing better to do :D

8. I want to know

9. I'm too lazy to switch on the TV

10. It's a family trait (My Dad still wakes up at night to read his papers, my Mom and Grandma their bibles and inspirational books, don't know what my brothers read - but read... They do!)

"For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge..." 

2 Peter 1:5 ESV

Sincerely,
Cee

Aint Nobody got time for that

Since I resumed back and started doing my blog rounds (I'm taking my time so I haven't gone far), I've been amazed at whats been going on in blogville. I've missed out on a lot of things o! especially the vouchers @tilola is giving for her "Guest blogger series" and plus the SENTIENT book giveaway by Caeblogs *sobs*

 Anyways, I found an old post on "Aint nobody got time for that" by Coy-introvert. (Click here to read post)   and it inspired me to write my on follow up of the things I don't have time for ;)!

1. 'Hanging' Blackberry smartphones: I dislike seeing the wait sign on blackberry phones (especially the bold series) as if i don't have enough things to do already. Abeg No time for that! Lool!

2. LAG BRT bus queues: Have you ever seen how long the line of people waiting for BRT buses in Lagos especially after working hours? Terrible! It's worse than the usual ATM and bank hall queues that I find equally annoying!

3.Traffic lights: Yeah I know they are put for a reason and so forth... but seriously most times I really don't have time to wait for the lights to change.  (except when i'm on the receiving end of the green light :) ).

4.Hair dryers: One of my least favorite things to do but yet i still find myself voluntarily going to salon to get my hair set (rollers n'all). Why can't there be a hair drying spray or something. No time to seat still and pretend to be reading a magazine when my whole body is crying from the discomfort and heat. Its usually worse if my hair got burnt during the relaxing process :( !

5.Peel Potatoes: In fact no time to peel anything small that requires to much effort and "little" result. Potatoes here are small and require peeling a gazillion to get a decent meal portion. (Garlic and ginger are included in this equation)

6.Suya: Funny how I'm not a big fan of suya  especially the beef one (prefer chicken and gizzard suya) but still I ain't got no time to wait for the Aboki or Mallam to put it back on the grill and roast it properly. (They usually display half-cooked suya)

7.Commercials: I don't need to explain this one!

8.Customer Care lines: I should rephrase and say I don't have time to be put on hold until the next available customer care agent is free to talk to me. To start with I'm calling because i have a compliant or something I don't have time to elongate my discomfort!

9.Caller  tunes especially the annoying and meaningless ones. People should stick to old faithful beep sound or even better, pick on the first ring.

10. Ain't Nobody got time to think of Number Ten :p

"And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone".

(1 Thessalonians 5:14)

"Living as becomes you] with complete lowliness of mind (humility) and meekness (unselfishness, gentleness, mildness), with patience, bearing with one another and making allowances because you love one another."

(Ephesians 4:2)

N.B. Patience is still a virtue I'm cultivating so I'm learning to "get time for all these and much more :)!

Sincerely,

Cee

Still on the Ghana-Must-Go debacle

Short story inspired by a documentary I watched about Nigeria. Enjoy! 

May 1957

Kofi did not like to be caught unawares. He had prayed and sought God’s face for months before embarking on his journey to Nigeria five years ago. Up until now he had no cause to doubt his decision. He stood at the farthest corner of the sawmill observing his coworkers. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that he will be in this position.  The guys had understood and had left him with his thoughts. He needed to weigh his options and make a decision quick.

He had fled Ghana because enough was really enough. His family had undergone more than their fair share of hardships. Looking back, he really didn’t know how they would have survived without God. It was a miracle how he was able to afford the trip here in the first place. As the eldest son with eleven siblings he needed a steady source of income to support them and that was exactly what he had been doing since he got this job. It wasn't much but it provided food on the table and kept the younger ones in school.

He loved his job at the factory and had always done it as unto God but lately he had been having doubts. He had never dreamt that he would be forced to leave so soon. This was his home; he had spent countless of hours within this factory walls than in his excuse of a room.  Some of the guys had gone through worse ordeals than his so they had bonded. Kwaale’s home had been burnt in a religious clash with his wife and two kids inside. No one understood how Kwaale had managed to remain positive and cheerful; he was an inspiration to all of them. The guys had become his family. But all these seemed trivial and inconsequential as he was still a foreigner to the government. He was categorized under the bad and frowned-upon type of foreigner.  It didn't matter that he was a fellow black man who had equally suffered the harsh realities of the colonial rule or that his grandfather was sold as a slave. All that mattered was that he did not possess the usual blue eyes and sand colored hair or white skin of ‘good’ foreigners. Therefore he wasn't regarded with the awe or reverence accorded to them instead he was entitled to the exact opposite treatment.

After hearing the news on the radio last night, one would wonder why he had bothered to show up at work today.  There had been rumors but they had all prayed and hoped that it remained so. For goodness sake, it was the twentieth century! People weren't supposed to be this myopic and prejudiced. The white men who had caused all the havoc were still valued and worshiped by this same government. Life was indeed unfair!

He looked around, his co-workers were all busy sawing and fighting with the planks. He smiled as his gaze fell on Iyabo. She was laughing at something Dele was saying. She was beautiful inside and out. She could have opted for office work since she was close relative of the big boss but she hadn't.  She was determined to work her way up against all the oppositions. She was stubborn and he loved her more for it. She still hadn't told her family about their relationship and he understood her reservations.  As if she could read his thoughts, she looked up and smiled at him. Theirs was indeed a weird combination- the black foreigner and the boss’s kin.

Only God knew what the future held for a love like theirs especially now with the recent news from the "Oga at the top". The head of state, Shehu Shagari had announced that all foreigners with special emphasis on those from Ghana were to leave Nigeria with immediate effect or face the beat of the music.  According to him, the foreigners were the cause of the rising unemployment in the nation. If he had not heard it over the radio last night, he would have known when he arrived at work because Dele and some of the other guys had told him about the angry mob carrying “Ghana must go” placards at Jojun junction. They had asked him what he intended to do as some of his fellow foreigners at the mill had fled town. Everyone knew how cruel the soldiers were so you couldn't blame them.

He had been mulling over what to tell Iyabo since he heard and he still hadn't come up with anything. What was he to tell her that would make her leave everything she has ever known? Or did he tell her to keep the fort that he would return for her? And then how long was she supposed to wait? Was it indefinitely? Or was he supposed to wish her well and say goodbye? His greatest fear was the not knowing what her reaction might be. Iyabo was one heck of a stubborn lady. She was stubborn and steadfast in her beliefs, work and love for her family. All these qualities had endeared her to him and he feared that they might be the death of him. He had been praying but it seemed God was silent. He could hear the sound of military trucks and an angry mob approaching from a distance. It was only a matter of seconds before they would circle the mill and then decision would no longer be his or hers to make.

As he approached her station, Iyabo did the weirdest thing. She fled.  

Here's the link for the documentary on Youtube

REAL STORY OF NIGERIA by Jide Olanrewaju

I'm really sorry for my long hiatus. Much love.

Sincerely,

Cee
xxx

Spring Cleaning!

"For there is a time and a way for everything, although man's trouble lies heavy on him."

Ecc 8:6 (ESV)

**cobwebs everywhere**

It's been soo long! I'm so sorry for the Hiatus! (would write a post about what i've been up to later). I've really missed blogging and blogville. In the meantime, I want to share a poem I wrote for an essay competition a few months ago. Let me know what you think :)!

IRETI

The war had raped our land,

taking all that we held dear and considered valuable.

For six years it had taken its toll and turned us into prisoners in our own homes;

Afraid to sleep with our eyes closed or to leave the haven of the ceiling tops.

 For fear was the only food we knew.

 I found solace having you at my bosom.

Ireti, my jewel, my daughter

The doctor had said I wouldn’t conceive.

 Akanni, my husband although sympathetic, had married a second wife.

 Then suddenly you appeared on the scene, wiping all my tears and years of ridicule.

Only for the war to snatch you away, along with every good thing.

 I was at the market square,

 Dancing and jubilating with the entire town folk that an end had finally come to the war.

Unknown to me, the war had dealt a final blow.

Wasn’t it a few hours ago that we were both hurdled in the ceiling?

 When Akanni, your father rushed into the house shouting, announcing the end of the war.

You screamed and jumped into his arms while the other children came out of their hiding places.

As I tied my wrapper in preparation to go to the market square,

 To join the other women in the dance,

 You begged me to let you visit Tinuke your best friend.

I always knew that hers would be your first point of call,

So I smiled and told you to come home early.

 Unknown to me that was the last time I was to see my Ireti.

When I got back and you didn’t greet me at the door,

I was worried.

 I entered your room expecting to see you sleeping, tired from all the playing.

But you were not there.

Akanni said he hadn’t seen you and he had assumed you were with me.

 I ran like a mad woman with your father tailing along to Tinuke’s house.

When Tinuke’s mother said you never came.

The journey of searching for my Ireti began.

It’s been six long years,

since I last beheld your beautiful face.

 Six years of weeping and mourning the loss of my identity.

 Before that faithful day I was “Mama Ireti”,

 the proud mother of a brilliant eight year old.

Since you were declared missing by Akin, the village town crier,

 I have ceased living.

I still look over my shoulders,

 when I hear a girl shout “ Mama”,

Hoping it is my Ireti.

You now have a little brother

and he is looking forward to meeting you.

 I have not given up.

 Some say you might be dead and I’m crazy for still looking,

but I’m not bothered, for I shall find my Ireti under the sun.



Yours sincerely,
Cee