Mummy Sunday 14:

Inspired by one of my favorite bloggers LondonBuki, this is my fourteenth Mummy Sunday post. I haven't written one in a while cos there has been a lot happening to and around my mummy’s health since the last one I wrote in March- and I just couldn’t bring myself to write about her. This is a post of thanksgiving because time after time, the Lord above keeps proving himself as the head of our household. I dedicate this post to LondonBuki's mom... she will receive divine healing in Jesus name... AMEN!!!

The Faith Of My Mother

I have a distinct memory of an argument I had with my mother years ago as a teenager. I don't remember what it had been about or exactly what she'd said... but I remember the look on her face when I lashed out:

"You're not my role model anyways"

... the pain in her eyes as she walked away...

It’s been about 4 years since then and we never once talked about it, but I still remember.

I remember when Fire and I came to Canada to live with my mom.

I hated the way she yelled and complained… expected me to be the little girl she left in Nigeria so many years ago.

For the first year or two, we had such terrible arguments…

But we finally figured it out… we had to ‘learn’ each other again… to learn to love each other just the way we were.

I once heard someone say that you grow into your mother…

{21, and somewhat wiser}

I think it would be an honour

… her strength, her passion, her drive and ambition, her inner and outward beauty, her compassion… her faith

It will definitely be an honour to become half the woman she is.

My mummy is a woman of such extraordinary faith… so her life is a constant miracle.

God guides and showers her with amazing blessings, allows her to step into places she wouldn’t otherwise dare. He fights her battles for her…

and by virtue of being her children… he fights for my sister Fire and I.

My mummy believes in a God who sees into the soul…

She doesn’t take off her earrings and makeup immediately she’s nearing the church premises, she still wears her red nail polish and fitted, cute clothes. She doesn’t volunteer in every church event just so her pastor can notice her…

cos my mummy’s God is not an ‘eye-service’ God.

My mummy talks to God like a friend… she tells him her joys, her sorrows… her everything.

Fire and I almost always start laughing anytime our mum starts praying… she has absolutely no clue how funny she is. My sister and I always recreate this prayer she said sometime last year:

“Lord Jesus I thank you for waking me up this beautiful morning to be able to give praise to you. Lord I thank you for my family back home and here. Thank you for being our guidance and protection.

Lord today I want to commit my daughter Fire into your hands. This girl is a problem child. Lord please save her. Lord I can’t believe she went to school yesterday and fought with her classmate and even had the audacity to question her vice-principal. Lord please take control of this situation cos I have nobody but you… touch her and make her change I pray in Jesus name. Lord you know disrespectful behaviour does not run in my family so please open her heart so she can get to know you because she needs it Lord. Amen.

Lord please teach my children Overwhelmed and Fire the importance of obedience. Amen. I don’t understand why Overwhelmed didn’t wash the dishes last night. Please create a change in her life so that she will not feel ok anytime she doesn’t do the dishes. I want her to know that it’s a sin to be lazy. Amen

Lord you know that woman who is disturbing me for no apparent reason… please fight for me cos I have nobody else. Lord I have called upon you all my life and you have been there for me. Please continue to be there for me and continue to take the glory I pray in Jesus name. Amen.”

lol

It’s a very simplistic approach to worshipping God… but it works.

My mummy has been sick for months. The doctors initially said she has a cyst. A blood vessel had erupted in her stomach and she’d had the option of operating on it or taking certain pills and recovering in 4-6 weeks. She had Fire and I by c-section, and had a fibroid operation in the past, so she opted to take the pills.

8 weeks after, she still wasn’t feeling better. As a matter of fact, she got worse… more feverish, weak… sick.

She was losing a lot of weight… but oddly enough, her stomach kept getting bigger.

She decided to see some specialists and find out what was going on…

They found a big lump in her stomach.

They were going to run more tests to find out what exactly what it was… but they suspected it was either an ovarian cyst or ovarian cancer.

My entire family was in shock- ‘scared-out-of-our-minds’ shock

My mummy was almost falling apart… I had to stay strong and tell her it was going to be alright… that it couldn’t be our worst fear… I had to tell her that what happened to Aunty H wouldn’t happen to her.

The results came back…

MY MOTHER DOES NOT HAVE CANCER!

She went in for another set of tests… and there was even better news…

THE LUMP THAT WAS THE SIZE OF A TENNIS BALL IN HER STOMACH HAD SHRUNKEN TO THE SIZE OF AN ERASER!!

She might not even have to undergo an operation anymore.

Her doctors were so surprised… wondering what exactly happened

It is God… the God that we serve has come through for us once again!!!

She still has to run through a couple more tests because the doctors want to make sure… but she has already been healed by a power far stronger than their science… Thank you Jesus… I love you.

7

Papi tagged me to share 7 things most people don’t know about me:

1. I was an army cadet as a teenager. For a year or two, I marched, patrolled, mountain climbed, kayaked, camped and shot rifles with the best of them. I once flirted with the idea of joining the Canadian armed forces… but I’m too cute to die (and my mom constantly reminds me that I haven’t started paying her back all the money she spent raising me).

2. I’m not a big fan of my feet cos it can be such a hassle trying to find cute shoes that fit… size 11Ws on a female are not always a good look.

3. I actually like all my nicknames- Editor, Passion, Breastina, Jolene, Storm, Phoenix… well with the exception of ‘cocoa tree’(DAMN YOU ayo... lol)

4. I’m not photogenic at all. I only look good in about 3 out of 10 pictures(please do not take this as an admission that I’m ugly… in fact I’m so cute I almost can’t stand it… lmao. As a matter of fact when I was in high school in Nigeria, I won a yellow tray for being the most beautiful girl… probably cos there were only 12 girls in the entire school… and my principal liked me the most… lol). Apparently I have a 'picture face'… no matter what mood I’m in, anytime a camera appears, my face reverts to this scowl… the look of someone who just found out that the ‘chicken’ in the Chinese rice she just ate was actually ‘cat meat’… at times like this, I wish Tyra Banks was a blogger.

5. I burn very easily. If I spend anything over an hour in the sun without some form of sunscreen… I develop tan lines. I guess I’m an Italian girl trapped in a Nigerian body.

6. My favorite compliment to receive is about my laugh. See all my friends make fun of my laugh… apparently it sounds like a ‘push-and-start-car-engine’(lol… yes I realize I have horrible friends), so I’m always incredibly excited when people actually find my laughter cute(The bitches I call my friends tell me it’s because those people just want to make me feel better…

7. I can’t ride a bike

I tag everybody whose blog I’ve commented on in the past 7 days…

‘Carrot- Pineapple- Coconut’ Cake

Last night, for the first time in my life, I made a cake.

See I could’ve gone the easy route and made a vanilla cake… or a chocolate cake… or a strawberry cake.

But I didn’t

I made a Carrot- Pineapple- Coconut Cake

(ok… I’ll be honest. I didn’t quite have the ingredients for a chocolate cake…)

I combined three different recipes because… well… just because.

I don’t quite remember in what order, but I mixed:

2 cups of all-purpose flour and one cup of sugar and 1 stick of butter and I cup of sweetened shredded coconut and 5 grated medium carrots and 1 can of drained pineapple chunks and ¾ cup of vegetable oil and 1 tablespoon of baking powder and 5 eggs and 1 teaspoon of baking soda(I felt like such a dumb blonde when I realized after an extensive search in my cupboards that the baking soda was the box in the corner of my fridge…lol… and please don’t get on my case about the blonde stuff… na my money buy am jare)

My sister almost had a fit when she saw me pouring oil into the baking tray to grease it(apparently I’m supposed to just spray it with the can ‘baking oil spray’ thingie… lol… another blonde moment)

I lightly floured the tray and then poured in the batter

And I set the oven to bake at 350F

… and 45 minutes later

Voila… dark brown perfection!

My very first Carrot- Pineapple- Coconut Cake!!

And it wasn’t salty or ‘peppery’… or dry or burnt

It was just right!!!

This just has to go into some record book…

“People of the world… a feat unheard of, something so grand, so marvellous, so unexpected…

Overwhelmed Naija Babe made a cake… and it was actually good”

I have to add this to the looong list of foods that I can actually make:

1. Jollof Rice

2.Jollof Pasta

3.Jollof Potatoes

4.Eggs… and now

5. Carrot- Pineapple- Coconut Cake

This makes me incredibly happy cos I believe my future is settled:

• I’m almost certain that in the next 6- 10 years, I will be able to find a handsome educated Nigerian man who will marry and cherish me, and not send me home after the first 2 months because of my lack of culinary talents. I mean a girl who can cook 5 meals or more is definitely an asset in any man’s home.

Note to Future 'Overwhelmed Naija Bobo': Please don't delude yourself into expecting egusi and okra soup daily because I will stop buying restaurant soups and passing them off as my own exactly two weeks after the wedding(cos all those ones na ‘before-the-marriage-runs’… lol

• My children will not grow up with skinny legs and protruding stomachs due to excessive consumption of 'outside food’...afterall children with a mother who can make 5 meals are luckier than most… I mean not only can their mother make breakfast(eggs) and lunch(any jollof of their choice or whatever shows up on the ‘rotating-jollof-menu’), she can also make dessert(Carrot- Pineapple- Coconut Cake).

Note to future children: Dinner is for poor and uncivilized people(well that’s what I’ll be telling you until you grow up and learn better… so in the meantime it’s prayers and bedtime stories… except you want some ‘reheated jollof’)

• My inlaws will not be causing too many problems in my matrimonial home. When they eat jollof rice 3 times a day for one week straight, I’m pretty sure they won’t like to make too many visits to my home to enquire about ‘male children’ or to find out how their brothers money is being spent.

ps(showing off papi): However, because I do want to be called a fantastic sister/daughter in-law, I will go out of my way to post the numbers of the best restaurants in town on my fridge for easier access. I will also make my driver Lazarus available for these trips for anyone who is allergic to my jollof. (drivers with names other than Lazarus or Taofeek need not apply)

• In order to make sure that the smell from another woman’s kitchen won’t tempt my husband’s nostrils, every other weekend, I will make microwave popcorn

• I will also make sure that I don’t invite too many of my homebody friends to my house… any friend who can cook more than 10 things at any given time will have restricted access to my home because I know that if my husband and his family members meet my friends who come to my house and make elaborate concoctions of ‘goat meat stew with barbecued celery and parboiled carrot sticks dipped in omikomi sauce and grilled oysters with parmesan potatoes’, or 'grilled teriyaki isi-ewu set at 45 degree temperature with yam a-la-mode, tatashe'd and sundried lekki beach crabs, spicy prawns and chilled Tinubu Brulee with home-made palm wine margaritas', my tenure in my matrimonial home might be shaky.

On the other hand: I will invite lots of my party friends… and even my close friend Ayo aka Dark Chocolate. She doesn’t even know if the tomatoes or the oil comes first in the stew… so she will be very close to my family. Anytime my husband starts complaining about his need for fatty acids and palm nut soup, I will refer him to my friend Ayo… who will remind him how lucky he is to have me.

• I don’t want a housegirl in the first few years of my marriage… or at least until I receive spiritual clearance and 10 days fire prayer. I watched ‘the evil that housegirls do’ parts 1, 2 and 3… and… no thanks!

Ahhh... Life will never be the same after my Carrot- Pineapple- Coconut cake.
(Don't you just want a piece?)

They Spoil it for others

My best friend Shawn is probably the sweetest and most sensitive guy I know. I don’t mean in that ‘puppy/pushover’ sort of way… he’s a guy’s guy who just happens to really ‘understand’.

We clicked from the first day we met… and have been close for about 3 years. We can talk about anything for hours from relationships to music to recipes for making the best oatmeal (he’s something of an amateur chef while I can’t cook to save someone I love). He has a fantastic sense of humour and like me finds ‘funny in the mundane.’ Shawn’s mind is a deliciously nasty and beautiful place(at least I think so).

During the course of our conversation last night, I’d asked him about his ex and his nonchalant almost rude response shocked me. It confirmed what I’ve been thinking for a while now… Shawn has become quite jaded.

It didn’t really happen overnight… it took days and weeks and months… and years.

The change started about 30 months ago when he started dating Tyra. Tyra was beautiful, a little chubby and had quite the ‘bubble butt’. He fell in love with her and couldn’t see past her smile. He found out later that she did drugs… not weed or shrooms or ‘e’… she was doing the white stuff. Shawn was quite upset about her coke habit and tried to dissuade her from her ‘little fun’… but even when he realized he wasn’t succeeding, he loved her still.

8 or 10 months into it… Tyra got pregnant. Shawn was scared at first but was still man enough to go with her to break the news to her aunty whom she lived with. Within days, he was ectastic… he was going to bring a life into the world with the woman he loved.

He’d already told his employers to give him more hours at his part-time job so he could save up for his baby. He’d started thinking of possible baby names… but for reasons I still can’t understand, he repeatedly rejected ‘Overwhelmed Naija Babe’ or ‘Overwhelmed Naija Bobo’. Myself and 2 of his other close female friends were to be godmothers and all 8 of the ‘jungle guys’ were to be godfathers… that baby was going to be adored and pampered like none other.

But as the days past, Tyra started withdrawing from Shawn. She wouldn’t pick up his calls or return his messages. She wouldn’t open the door when he went to visit her. Shawn was out of his mind with worry.

Then she called him… four weeks later…

…to tell him that she was ‘young and couldn’t handle the stress anymore… and had chosen to abort their baby’

She had never even consulted him

To say Shawn was devastated is a grave understatement.

He was dazed for weeks, then angry… and depressed… and sad

He was broken inside.

Although there were quite a number throwing themselves at him, for the next couple of months after, Shawn stayed away from females completely.

About a year after his break-up with Tyra, he met Sheila. He resisted for a long time… but emotion overruled. In a few months, he fell again… madly, deeply, crazy in love with Sheila. They were inseperable and just perfect together.

A year into it… she broke up with him. She’d found somebody else.

There he was again… back to square one… the shock and confusion and frustration and anger and resentment… and even hate.

Three months after, he was still trying to piece himself together when she called him… to invite him to her current boyfriends birthday party

OF ALL THE INSENSITIVE, HURTFUL AND INCONSIDERATE THINGS TO DO… THE BITCH!!!

Shawn basically decided to write off females… he’d have ‘relationships’ and sex and fun… but he’d never again love with the same intensity that he did Tyra and Sheila.

He didn’t think he had it in him to go through another painful breakup.

A few months ago Shawn met Bridget. She was beautiful and smart and sensitive and sweet…all the things he ever wanted in a female. He was into her but unlike before, he didn’t immerse himself entirely in their relationship… he just ‘floated on the surface.’

He returned her calls whenever cos he didn’t want to get attached to her voice…

He saw her whenever cos he didn’t want to get used to her presence…

She liked him and I found that sweet especially as she had never even known the beautiful soul he was before.

She wanted more from him… he couldn’t give it and they broke up.

I pray my best friend Shawn finds the superglue he needs to piece things back together…

Some girls… they really ruin it for others

{and vice versa}

6 pack in 6 weeks

I got my belly button repierced a few weeks ago…

See I got it pierced for the first time on February 08, 2006. I remember the exact day cos I got it done the day after my birthday… some sort of 'self-gift'

It hurt for a while especially as I kept irritating it when I slept(I sleep on my stomach… or in an inverted 'isosceles triangle')

or(without the pillow)

I felt like such a vixen… I mean my ear piercings had gotten a bit old..

Speaking of piercings… I think the sexiest is an eyebrow piercing(which I can't get cos I don't want my mama to catch pneumonia… due to the countless hours she will spend in church praying for my 'deliverance from the powers of darkness'.

My other piercing favorite is the tragus (inner ear) piercing… which I actually do have. To borrow from my mentor Goldmember in the 3^rd Austin powers movie 'it's very toight'. Because I still want to leave you under the impression that I'm an oyinbo who just happened to grow up around Nigerian people… I won't put up a picture of my fantastic ear.

But to sate your appetite for all things tympanic… I've inserted a picture I googled:

Tres sexy… yes?

(and yes I actually do have the decency to be ashamed that I'm a citizen of a bilingual nation and only speak three phrases of 'the other' language- bonjour, merci beaucoup and au voir)

so as I was saying... I got my belly button pierced about 15 months ago…

… there's something about a piece of sterling silver in your stomach

Unfortunately, my skin rejected it a few months after… and I developed a keloid(apparently most black people have keloidal skin... maybe it's the 'fried chicken')

Anyways... being the braveheart/ daredevil that I am... I decided to go and repierce earlier this month... I guess I felt the need to give some money away... and if 'Amy my piercer' with her 12 tattoes and 7 'visible piercings' is not a good candidate... then frankly I don't know who is.

*It hurt like childbirth*(actually I can't really say that seeing as I've never had a child before... but it hurts like I imagine it would if I actually had a kid...)

Now here's the thing...
I've decided that I'm actually going to show my stomach this summer

I'm a size 10(technically I can claim size 8 because I've bought two skirts in recent times that fit perfectly and were 8's... so yes... from 'henceforth' I consider myself a size 8!)

Don't want to become 'maga' (cough cough... Jasleene) but I do want to tone my belly...
Yes... I want a 6-pack with those fries...

Here's the 'before picture'... in exactly 6 weeks... you'll see the 'after'... I'll keep updating inbetween times...


I realize it's not as easy as 'knocking a ball in the park'... and I'm not a diet chick... but to help me along, I've decided to:

• Take 30 minute daily walks starting from tomorrow
• Continue with my 'no drinking pop except its mixed with vodka' theme
• Eat more vegetables and keep eating whole wheat(grains?)
• Stop eating after 11pm(this is actually a big deal because I eat till whenever I sleep... which can be at 4am sometimes)

(any more tips?)

I'm not a gym person... I had a membership for one year in 2005 and I only went twice...

I don't mind doing crunches but I heard that if you don't do cardio with em... it's all in vain...

Is tae bo the answer?

Please leave any suggestions... because quite frankly, I would love to have my 6pack in 6 weeks!!!

The Naija Bloggers Book

Truly one of the most exciting things to come through blogsville in a while… other than the recent rediscovery of the left foot of my red stiletto (which my friend ‘hip-hop fire’ mistakenly took with her to Michigan) of course…

… is the Naija Bloggers Book

The brainchild of our resident prolific playwright, author, journalist and lawyer Laspapi(who totally rocks), it is to be a book highlighting some of the best posts written by Nigerian bloggers in recent times.

Those of us who have spent a considerable amount of time in the past few months (and years) reading and writing… are aware of the brilliance of certain Nigerian blog(ger)s.

Comedians and dramatists… politicians and spiritualists… photographers and fashion designers…

Naija blogsville has got it all!

Can you remember certain things you read… and thought… ‘oh my gosh… him too?’

Do you remember how many times you’ve found comfort in the words of another blogger

…someone you’ve probably never met but who’s inspired you? made you cry? Made you cringe? Made you laugh? Made you think?

How many people have you read in blogsville and thought ‘dang… this person should publish’?

How many times have you dreamt of a bigger audience for your work than the one you currently have?

Well here’s your chance!!!

I’ll insert the ‘queens English- no vernacular’ version of what I’m trying to tell you:

“NAIJA BLOGGERS- THE BOOK

This is a call to all Nigerian bloggers worldwide to become a part of An anthology of the greatest works of Nigerian Bloggers-

A book called Naija bloggers Vol 1.

Nigerian Bloggers around the globe are requested to send in their stories or recommend great posts for the publication of a physical anthology, the first of its kind by any group of bloggers on any continent.

The categories are anecdotes, short stories, poetry, prose, drama and essays but there is room for as many sub-categories as are sent in as the book will also serve as a platform where artistes can showcase architectural/interior/exterior designs, photography, paintings as well as fashion and textile designs. Submissions are therefore welcome on any topic whether covered here or not.

There is only one condition- All submissions must have been blogged on or before Monday the 14th of May 2007.

Bloggers may submit up to 5 entries on any topic or issue but no blogger may have more than 3 works published. The Copyright of Articles remains the possession of the original writers.

The profiles of writers will be added to the anthology (those who wish to remain anonymous may do so, however)

Royalties will be discussed with selected contributors before publication.

The intention is to publish worldwide in stages, first stage being Nigeria and to make the book available all over the world.

Talks are on with publishers in Nigeria including Spectrum, Farafina and Khalam Editions.

It is expected that a compilation of the best of Nigerian minds on the internet will make fantastic reading, show a new and much needed side of Nigerians to the entire world, as well as give access to those who are not internet-inclined.

Submissions should be sent to nigerianbloggers@yahoo.com not later than Friday, June the 15th 2007 stating date of blogging and blogname/address.

Please note that submission does not automatically guarantee the publication of all or any of the works. The final selection will be made by respected Nigerian writers.”

Kindly put this up on your blog... so that others can find out about it

Se Fini!!!

Now I’m pretty sure our grandkids won’t be too impressed to learn that we wore bell bottoms, camoflauge, hammer pants, wet n Wild lipglosses and listened to boy George and Britney Spears… but imagine their excitement when they realize that our participation in the Naija Bloggers Book saved 75 Asian girls from underage prostitution, helped rebuild the ecosystem and put braces on the teeth of 1,325 Kenyan Immigrants.

Do it for the grandkids!!!

Feel free to ask any questions you have in the comment section of this post, Laspapi’s blog or email nigerianbloggers@yahoo.com.

Is it just me?

I’ve been out of the dating scene for a little over 11 months… but it seems things have changed.
Or is it just me?

I’m just chilling out and taking my time with things… but of course when a cute girl suddenly becomes single, the boys start popping out of the woodwork…
they wanna ‘holla’

1) Femi the social worker: He’s the first male social worker I ever met, very smart, about 6 ft 3, drives a nice car. I met him at a Nigerian party a few weeks ago. He’s cute but has an ‘Igbo’ head… you know the ones with the rumple at the back(which I absolutely can’t stand… my father has one). He’s extremely nice but a big eager… I mean I know they’re hot but you really don’t have to complement my legs as well as the direction my hair grows in. He really likes me… perhaps a bit too much for someone he just met. He tells me I have the perfect attitude, outfit, looks, hairstyle, legs, smile, laugh, smarts… a bit too perfect aren’t I?

He took me clubbing a while ago and we met a couple of my girls over there. He got us drinks all night… and dinner after… he likes the fact that I know what I want(lol… yes… another compliment). My friends think he’s a nice guy and loved the fact that he was wearing a green lacoste golf-shirt(I’ve always wanted one so apparently it’s fate…lol… whatever). The verdict was still out on him… until he started mouthing off about wanting to ‘play with’ and ‘make me feel good’
You nuts dude? I don’t know you like that… and since you’re that fast about things… I don’t even really wanna get to know you like that.

2) Irabor the overtime worker: I met him a few days after Femi at my besties friends baby birthday. He’s benin, alright looking nice guy... 5ft 11, drives a sexy ass car and is almost always working overtime. Now at the party, they were playing some serious Nigerian jams and the girls and I were just killing it on the dancefloor… I’m talking that konko below and shina peters stuff… it was so live. I’d already given Irabor my number by this time… so I’m not sure if that’s the reason he felt justified in trying to claim me on the dancefloor…
I don’t play that… I’m not yours till I say I am(AND I DON’T!!!)

I told him off… but he was nice enough to bring me home two weeks ago when I finished doing my hair at 2am.

Still, that doesn’t make us cool enough for him to suddenly decide that because my mom was out of town, it was his moral duty to try to come and sleep over at my house and ‘keep me company’… blanket slash bodyguard buruku!!! guardian angel oshi!!!

Seeing as I’ve lived there for over 5 years of my life without a complaint, I was pretty sure I could cope without him… and told him that.
He apologized.

You can imagine my surprise when instead of the movie he was supposed to take me out to later that week, he asked me if he could come over so we could chill and watch Nigerian movies in my house.

...this obsession with coming to my house...
Now dude is either clueless, purposefully forgetful, stingy or broke… no thanks to any of the above!

3) Tyrone: I actually met him about 3 months ago when he came to pick up my close friend Ayo who’d slept over at my house the night before. Oh my gosh this boy is fine!!!(any finer and he’d actually be cuter than me.. and we all know Overwhelmed doesn’t date guys who are cuter than her… lol... and please don't take that as inference that i'm fine... I make no such claims) He’s Jamaican, 23, lightskinned and the tallest dude I ever met in my life(outside professional basketballers of course) at about 6ft 8. it seems horribly tall I know… but I think it’s just hot to have to crane your neck to talk to someone… I’m 5ft 11 and almost always in 3 inch heels which puts me at about 6ft1… so that almost never happens.

So yes as I was saying, from the moment he saw me, he commented on how tall I was… and how he hardly ever saw girls who are my height and cute. Although he was 'very interested' and sexy as hell, I was in a relationship at the time, so I just gave a polite smile and walked back into my house.

My friend Ayo recently told me that the entire time since he met me, Tyrone has been going on and on about me… wanting to see me... or talk to me… or take me out… something. I thought that was cute cos to be honest, fine as he was, he never came to my mind after the day I first met him.

Lately my friend started going on and on about him… and how he liked me and was always asking about me… so I just decided for the fun of it… to let him have my number(through her of course).

Ayo called me about 5 minutes after to tell me that when she’d called him, Tyrone had been out somewhere and didn’t have a pen to take down my number… that he wanted me to call him so my number could register on his phone… and he could call me right back.

Na craze?!?! Emi overwhelmed… call so my number could register on his phone… Jamaican Jirrafe(lol.. yes I do realize it’s supposed to be a G) chop witch?! na me dey find am abi na him dey find me? Shioooo… even if na tyrese gon gon self.. e never reach me like that.. them dey find fine boys? Make we hear better word jare... no be today breast dey inside bra
I no call or register anything oh… some guys are really comedians… Registration ko… open callation ni!

4) Allen: I met him about a week ago and we’re always calling each other at the wrong time. He’s alright so far… I think we’re supposed to do something this weekend or so.

I’m still not really doing anything other than going for dinners and having interesting conversations with some interesting people…
which is neither here nor there...

Now here's what I want to know...

Perhaps some new dating rules have emerged in the past 11 months that I don’t know about.
I know the members of my blog family are always on top of things… care to share?!

My Future

More than any other, I am inspired by geriatric love… years old love… decades old love. I love love that takes time to build. I love love that understands every frown, every smile…that comfortable and comforting love. I love love that admits that there are temptations but none of them worth it. I love love that comes from sleeping next to the same person for so long it becomes second nature. I love love that can’t imagine an alternative. I love love that finds pleasure in cuddling up with hot chocolate on the sofa watching game shows. I love love that finds beauty in a saggy boob and a wobbly knee. I love love that endures. I am so in love with this sort of love that I wrote ‘My Future’ almost three years ago. My then housemate Japanese Kita sent it in without my knowledge… and it got published in my school newspaper.

In your eyes I see my future
One filled with promise, love and laughter
A long road that may be filled with ups and downs, but leading to a beautiful place

One of hearts coming together in affection
proclaiming a brighter tomorrow

A future not guided by the past but learning from and avoiding its mistakes

A blanket that drives away loneliness and heartache, leaving in its wake a lifelong spell of joy

Eyes lit up with inner warmth and souls licked by flames of desire

Caught up in the fever of a disease that I never want to be cured of

Channeling ancient artists as I seek colors beautiful enough to express the wonder of you

A future that feels like sitting on a rainbow surrounded by clouds of happiness

A dream that I never want to wake up from

A future where I live and learn and grow to love you more with each passing day

Building a home with you in my heart with foundations so solid that even death can’t knock it down

A love that prevails in the worst of circumstances

A love so sacred it spills into all the special parts of my being and warms me on the coldest nights

A future in which sorrow and darkness are only names to me because I walk in the sunshine of your love and I’m protected by its ever- present glow.

A future where you’re still beautiful to me after decades of waking up to your smile.

In your eyes I see my future.

Moneydrain… thy name is Mimi

Yesterday was certainly a day of errands for me.
I went with my mom to the hospital in the morning to get registered for a new family doctor seeing as our old one retired a little while ago. After that, we went to a walk-in clinic to book an appointment for some scans that she’s to do tomorrow. Later, we went to this fantastic Chinese restaurant for lunch… then drove down to the car place to get the radio properly installed in her new car.

An hour or so later, we passed by the calling card place because she has to call ‘back home’ and of course ‘western union’ them some money for the completion of the fence and to cure ‘Uncle Azubuike’s headache and heartache and flu and malaria and typhoid and yellow fever… and election fever’.

Finally, we went to this nail salon because my mom wanted to get a manicure and pedicure.
Yes… yesterday certainly was a day of errands for me.

So at the nail salon, while my mom was getting a pedicure, I walked outside in the improving spring weather, wrote down a couple of thoughts and cracked a smile at my moms obvious choice of red nail polish for her toenails cos I’ve never seen her in anything but.

Then I looked on one of the counters and saw two huge burgundy folders… and being the ‘investigative journalist’ that I am… I decided to open them.
… perhaps inside those books was the secret recipe to make satay beef, spicy shrimp and keep your nails clean while doing both.
Because sometimes… the real world isn’t quite as exciting…
I only saw pictures of nails.

I found some of the nail pictures horribly disgusting and hoochie and skally… some of them elegant and gorgeous… and some of them… completely blah.

See I’d gotten my nails done only 3 days before with my friends Miss BA(aka Dancing Queen), BO(aka hip-hop fire) and her boyfriend NA(aka Nigerian William Shakespeare).
I’d gotten a French Manicure that was totally gorg.
I blame my friends Ayo and BA for their ‘almost- success’ in turning me into an ‘acrylic junkie’ because there I found myself inside supernails only 3 days later contemplating some ‘nail work’.

I’m patterned and cute and weird and cute and nice and cute and interesting and cute… lol… and my nails were going to reflect that dammit!
So with nothing but a nail design plate, several bottles of opi nail polish and a desire to leave the salon different than I’d come in… I walked up to the counter… and met the new center of my attention…
…Mimi…
The weary lady with the wise face and the terribly bitten down nails… who inhaled chemicals and odours and toe cheese for a living... 6 days every week.
The lady with the penciled in overgrown eyebrows who was so busy taking care of others that she had no time for herself…
Mimi

For the next 60 minutes, I looked at no one else
But Mimi
I talked to no one else…
But Mimi

With her ‘applies-to-nails-only’ English, Mimi ‘hit me with da hee’
…she put on the base clear coat… then the black… then the designs. A whirl, a line and a flower… each delicately and masterfully applied.
Oh Mimi

I walked off to the fan to dry my nails and I smiled…
Because for the first time in a long time… I’d been in the presence of true art
… created for and enjoyed by the masses ‘art’
… likely to be duplicated and even surpassed for the right price ‘art’
But for the next two weeks… it’s mine…
To shake friends and strangers with… to sleep and wake up in the morning with…

Moments later, the counter lady surprised me when she walked up to me with a digital camera and said
“Hey Lady… nails very nice… I take a piksha of you for album?”

I was overjoyed.. my chance to be a part of history… to influence the decisions of future manicurists for centuries to come… finally… something I could tell my grandchildren.

I looked at my hands… and saw that they were ashy. I went downstairs to wash.
When I came back after my intense ‘hand lotioning’, ‘blingy ring positioning’ and mental prep for my upcoming photoshoot…
My mom was gone!!!

She’d hadn’t paid for my nail designs cos she didn't like them... she'd left me and walked to the car.
I turned every pocket inside out and in the process partially ruined my almost dry nail art… but I located enough money to pay.
… I looked at the digital camera and the counter lady with regret… and hurried out of the store to meet my mother.

As I sit here cooking up ways to convince my sister Fire to do the dishes just so I don’t ‘ruin my nails’, I smile again.
I smile because I always knew I was going to be a star… and even though she met me for the first time yesterday, the counter lady knew it too… the only ‘reasonable’ reason she whipped out the digicam in the first place.

You can forget my long legs and 'cuteness'… everything I’ve ever written before… every feeling I’ve ever felt…
But never forget to remember me as the girl who almost got her picture taken and framed at Supernails!

*I dedicate this post to the Mimis of the world… without you, life would be quite ‘chippy’*

Moneydrain… thy name is Mimi

Dreams

For years, I thought I’d lost the ability to dream. I slept at night and woke up in the morning with no memory of the inbetween.

I recaptured that recently… Now I dream.

The good thing about this is that I no longer feel like my world stops the moment I close my eyes… and the bad part is that it all started again… with a nightmare.

A nightmare centered around one person…

My Father.

Three weekends ago, I dreamt that my sister Fire and I were at the family house in my fathers village (I guess mine too if you want to get specific about it). He was wearing white and we probably were too. He was showing us off, smiling…

“Oh these are my daughters… Overwhelmed and Fire”

“Say hi to Overwhelmed and Fire”

“Yes my daughters are back… finally”

Then for some strange reason his grip on my shoulders started getting tighter and tighter… he started sort of ‘run-walking’ us to his room (which as dreams go wasn’t his room in the village house, but the ‘city house’… I know… try explaining dream logic).

Anyways there’s this look he always has right before he beats the living daylights out of you… or does something you won’t forget in a hurry… this evil… really mean look.

He had that look

He continued ‘push-walking’ us and my heart started beating really fast… I knew something bad was going to happen.

Instinctively, I knew not to go in his room without alerting my mom… I started screaming her name

Mommy!

Mommy!!

Mommy!!!

She couldn’t hear me… I think

I screamed louder

Mommy!!!!

Mommy!!!!!

A faint yes… then YES

“Mommy our dad’s taking us into his room” I yelled out in panic

Then he pushed me in, took out a really long leather belt

I couldn’t breathe… and right before he laid the first whip on me…

I woke up

*I immediately told my mom about it. She suggested we just pray… and we did.*

See the matter would’ve just ended there… but my sister Fire came home the next weekend… and what she told me gave me instant chills especially considering the fact that my mother and I hadn’t even told her about my dream at the time.

She’d had a nightmare… and once again, it centered around one person…

My Father.

In Fire’s dream, we’d been at a party. Our father had looked larger than life… taller, bigger… scarier. He’d had a weapon in his hands… she couldn’t quite recall what it was.

Somehow, he’d caught sight of me and rushed forward and started punching and hitting me. He’d lifted me up… I kept coughing and kicking and resisting, but he’d held on to my neck with his large hands.

Fire said no one helped… the crowd just looked on… so she ran up to him to jump and kick and bite him but he flung her away time and again.

Apparently, at this point my eyes started bulging out of their sockets… he dropped me.

He had that same look on his face… Fire was somehow sure he was going to kill me…

He picked up his weapon to strike me…

And Fire woke up.

Fire told my mom and I this dream and I felt cold … no one in my family is a dream expert but this just seemed a bit too much to chalk up to coincidence. In the space of two weeks… two dreams by two sisters… all having to do with one man… and my safety.

We went to church on Sunday.

After the service, we went into to see my mom’s pastor for some prayers…

Frankly, I don’t understand any of it… but my heart and hands are clean so my God will fight for me. “Any weapon fashioned against me shall not prosper”. AMEN!!!

Political Astronaut

I was talking to one of my closest friends Miss BA last night. Since I really like her, and she pays me tons of money to be her friend… for the purpose of this blog, I’ll rename her ‘Dancing Queen’… something about her ability to move her body like a heterosexual jungle cat in heat.

So yes I was talking to Dancing Queen last night and I had said something and she asked me if I’d said ‘political astronaut’… lol. That just made me laugh so hard… I told her I was going to write a post on my blog with that title… political astronaut.

I actually just remembered a very special moment on my blog earlier this year when I won the title of 2006’s most scandalous Naija blogger. In my thank you speech, I had promised to put forward something so educative, so intellectually stimulating and informative that it would win me something along the lines of ‘most intelligent blogger’ come next blogger elections.

Now I haven’t done that ‘smart’ write-up yet but I decided to use todays post to practice my chops… My uncle Oganiru Adeleke once said ‘every successful person must have a strategy’ so I’m slowly developing mine…

Perhaps with that writeup I will be able to save the rainforest, find a solution for world poverty, deodorize public trains, ban the use of bleaching creams in Africa and combat mental HIV.

Yes there is hope!

And I promise you… I am going to pluck it like a Somalian Vegetarian farmer in an orange plantation.

Political Astronaut

I have never heard this phrase before my friend Dancing Queen coined it but I am going to interpret it very logically, and in the context I think it was meant… I hope you have your seatbelts on…

A political Astronaut can be defined as “somebody whose desire to rule their community has sent their brain to space.” A political Astronaut can be local, provincial or federal.

Ps. Olusegun Obasanjo is not a political astronaut… he is my presidential crush… I wonder why Nigerians did not let him go on for a third term but that’s a debate for another political writeup.

Local political astronauts can’t yet afford their ‘flight tickets’ and can therefore be found in canteens, grocery stores and other places of political unrest in the community.

A political astronaut is someone who rules the people by ‘bragga bragga’. Their socio- economic policies are usually based on events that happened in select leap years during the Roman empire.

A political astronaut is usually a democrat or dictator and loves movies directed by Tchidi Tchikere. They never have more than 6 partners at any given time or smoke Indian Hemp.

A political astronaut has geometric principles that can be conglomerated into a cubicle of governmental expenses and business marketing.

A political astronaut has a ph. D in universal metaphors and senatorial willpower. They usually have oil wells and geepee tanks filled with money in their backyards.

Physically secure but mentally unkempt, they stabilize their molecular ambition every night with a bottle of gulder and some isi- ewu… yes a political astronaut is a party animal!!!

In case of incasity, a political astronaut must have one piece of metal on at anytime be it a diamond stud or corkscrew… but no… cheap grills don’t count

Mike Jones is not a political astronaut

A political astronaut can sing the Nigerian national anthem in a d-flat note for extended periods of time in the winter and understands the concept of condensation and indecent exposure

Paris Hilton is not a political astronaut

A political astronaut understands the concept of God gives and God takes… they don’t file for insurance claims.

A political astronaut can be mono, bi or trisexual… but they must be screened quarterly for internal ringworms and emotional excema.

(Feel free to add any personal interpretation of ‘Political Astronaut’… I’ll tell Miss Dancing Queen to come on here later and say if she’s satisfied with my personal explanation and any others offered)