They all call on His name

I was watching the game between Burkina Faso and Ghana recently during the African Cup of Nations. I could not help but notice that both teams were very prayerful. From prostrating to making the sign of the cross, they were all at it. And then it hit me. What was God expected to do in a situation like this? Ghana was obviously beseeching Him to give them victory and Burkina Faso was prostrating and making the same request. Poor God!

 Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be God even for a day? The owner of the house kneels by his bedside to ask for protection for his life and property before going to bed and miles away, the thief who has targeted his home for the night is donning his balaclava while asking God for success with his midnight venture at the house. The accused is praying for the heart of the judge to be softened while his victim prays for God to give him his day in court. The shop proprietor down the road is praying for customers to miss the entrance of the shop next to his and make a beeline to his own while, the owner of next door is asking that He makes every customer walking down the street to be oblivious of his competitor. He might even promise a visit to his church for thanksgiving as soon as the rival’s shop is shut down for good due to lack of business.

 What about our prayers for hurt feelings; perceived or real? You all know what I am talking about because we have all been down that road. We all (including those who profess not to believe in Him) call on God to avenge us. Meanwhile the ‘enemy’ who is seeing the situation from his/her own perspective thinks he is the one ‘done in’ and like some people I know, pray for hell fire and damnation on you. And so it goes on day by day, every hour, every minute and every second, every human voice calling on one being for help.

I am reminded of a song from the German music film Bandits entitled “If I were God”. Part of the lyric goes like this:

‘If I were God, 
I would see all the things I never see 
I would always be with you and make all your dreams come true 
I would fill your days with laughter 
I would live a million years 
We'd be happy ever after.’ 

For your dreams to come true, some people would have to have theirs dashed. Days filled with joy means having everything your way thus causing others to lose out on their own joy. As it happened in the game I watched, Burkina Faso won and the Burkinabes went home full of joy and believing that God was on their side. I can only imagine how the Ghanaians felt. You see where I am coming from?

 The movie Bruce Almighty only scratched the surface of what it might mean to be God. I don’t know about you but I don’t wish to be Him for even a second!

  Chika Norah Udezue Wednesday February 6th, 2013.

Elegy for butterflies

I had a brief moment of what my husband calls life’s little pleasures as I was out walking this morning. I saw a butterfly! Did I hear you say “so what’s great about that?” Well, when was the last time you saw one? Have you not been paying much attention? And no, it has very little to do with my location. I happen to live away from a bustling city centre. I am surrounded by trees, forests, golf courses and beautifully manicured gardens blooming with eye-popping flowers.

I walked all spring and saw no butterflies. Summer is peaking and I finally spotted one. It gladdened my heart but also set me thinking if my grandchildren would ever get to know what the real things are like or depend on the pinned-onto-cardboard carcasses in science labs. A day might come when we start building museums for butterflies and other small animals that are fast disappearing.

O the joy I had as a child chasing butterflies and noting their varied colours, spots and markings. I remember my father showing me how to treat them by catching one himself and illustrating how those beautiful wings crumble when handled with heavy hands. I always associate my childhood with butterflies. In the 70s, I could look out of the windows of my Bedfordshire home and watch them fluttering over the flower beds for hours and wondering how far they travelled to get to my garden. When I moved to Saudi Arabia, I still indulged in butterfly gazing with special fondness for the Al-Hassa swallowtail with its striking black and yellow wings and body. They had some butterflies on postage stamps. I wonder if it is still the same.

In elementary school, I learnt that like honey bees, butterflies pollinate plants. Will my grandchildren be taught the same at schools - what with us destroying their habitats and using toxic pesticides and herbicides in our fields and gardens? With us growing genetically modified plants that contain a bacterium toxic to insects, causing migrating flies that land on fields of these plants to get annihilated? I doubt it.

Did you ever get to watch the cartoon, ‘Hoppity Goes to Town’ when you were little? My children did. It described the return of Hoppity (a grasshopper) to a city in America, having been away for some time, only to find that his insect friends were under threat by the ‘human ones’. I remember the part where the poor insects were running from being trampled by human feet and shouting “the human ones are coming, the human ones are coming!” Have you ever wondered what some of these small inhabitants of the earth would be saying if they could talk? Or maybe they do but we are too busy to hear!

I'm no tree-hugging conservationist but still need to pay attention to some of God’s creations that help to make this earth fun to be in. Today it is the butterfly, tomorrow the bees, which are also disappearing. They might be small but they have their own jobs to do in the grand scheme of life. Or perhaps we should stop procreating and start pollinating? After all, a third of food produced for us humans is dependent on pollinators.

The last two lines of Thomas Gray’s ‘Elegy written in a country churchyard’ come to my mind:
“But thro' the cool sequester'd Vale of Life
Pursue the silent Tenour of thy Doom.”

Look around you after reading this and prove me wrong. It's our call.

Putting her foot in it!

I can’t wait to tell you what just happened to me. It was at 10:46 am that my door bell rang. How did I know the exact time, I hear you ask. Well, I had just placed this apple cream coffee cake in the oven, turned to look at the clock and was still holding my oven mittens in my hands.

My initial instinct was to ignore it. I was not expecting any one and have a very busy day ahead of me. But not being the type to ignore door bells unless the timing was positively inconvenient, I took the 13 steps from the centre of my kitchen to my front door (Yep, I went back and counted it before sitting down to write this!), still holding my oven mittens.

Peeping through the key hole, I was initially blinded by the red coat. I then made out the wearer, a middle aged woman who had a young girl in tow. She was clutching a handbag and was already holding out some pamphlets. I knew where she belonged and what she wanted. As a Christian, I welcome and love chatting with others who profess to know God. We might not always see eye to eye but that does not stop me from listening with patience and occasionally putting across my own points. But not today. Shall I just walk back and ignore them?

“Well," I said to myself, "you’re already at the door so you might as well open it and dismiss them politely."

I opened the door still holding my mittens and with a sorry-but-must-get-back-to work look on my face.

“Good morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to wake you up from sleep but I would like to…”

What is this? A canned greeting for those who happen to be still at home at 11 am?

“You did not wake me up. I AM COOKING,” I spelled out waving the mittens for effect.

“Oh sorry but you’re still wearing your…” she tried to stutter,

She still didn’t get it. I knew what I was wearing so she had no excuse. I glanced at her little girl who looked to be about 11 and the poor thing had her face fully focused on the ground. She got it.

The woman in red stretched out her hand and offered me her pamphlet. “We’re going around your neighbourhood and inviting people to our Convention on the …”

I took the paper and was about to close my door when I remembered my grace and charm.” Have a very good day ladies.” I smiled that smile that only showed the teeth.. You know; the one that never touched the heart. Then I shut the door.

Turning around, I barged into my guest toilet, located not far from my front door and turned to the full length wall mirror. I had and still have on my lounging Kaftan with a dusting of flour on the left hand side, an evidence of my time in my kitchen. My hair is not bad. True I have no makeup on but there is no way I look like someone who is just roused from sleep. Then I looked at the paper.

"Violence, immorality and global warming, along with
oil spills and other environmental disaster – all
these problems had led concerned people to ask:
WILL HUMANS RUIN THIS EARTH?"

Talk about ruining the earth! Lady, you've tried to ruin my day!! You've just made me feel like a lazy slob who hugs her bed until midday. If only you know what I have achieved this morning and what I still need to do before the end of the day. I felt bad and really small. Then I glanced at the mirror again and smiled, this time for real. Who should be feeling small and embarrassed? Me, in my own home and doing my own thing or this woman who tried to mess my head up by putting her foot in her mouth?

Out of line comments are never pleasant. People must learn to think before they open their mouth. Thoughtless statements can be offensive and such verbal blunders belittle the receiver and chips away confidence.

I now find myself wondering if I am at all like this lady. Have I said some insensitive things to people that left them embarrassed or hurt? If so then I am truly sorry. It is worth thinking positively and saying something complementary at all times.

As for the invitation from the woman in red, it is already resting where it belongs, in my trash can. And I need to go bring my cake out of the oven. It is for a good cause and some folks who are yet unknown to me will enjoy it later. Cheers!

Life goes on!

There is no kick in the butt that lands harder than when people start asking why I have abandoned my blog! “Have you run out of ideas,” one asked recently, for which he received a big scowl from me. Me run out of ideas? That would be the day. My head is so packed full of ideas that they disturb my sleep every night. If I could put down all the musings in my head, and find buyers for them, I would be competing with Bill Gates in the riches realm.

No, the ideas are still there. But I did run out of steam and the will to bother. With two rapid demise of loved ones – my mother and mother-in-law and poor health of loved brothers, I decided to withdraw, look inwards and feel sorry for myself. “What a waste of life!” I can now say to myself.

My late father always delighted in telling people that his shoulders were broad enough and mine should have been the same to accommodate all that life threw at me. It’s silly really come to think about it! Nothing would bring back my two mothers and God is healing my brothers. I should put back my forward looking cloak and be me once again. Life goes on.

I like this quote attributed to bestselling author and life coach, Anthony Robbins:

“Live life fully while you're here. Experience everything. Take care of yourself and your friends. Have fun, be crazy, be weird. Go out and screw up! You're going to anyway, so you might as well enjoy the process. Take the opportunity to learn from your mistakes: find the cause of your problem and eliminate it. Don't try to be perfect; just be an excellent example of being human.”

I’m here and must live life to the full. I intend to experience some things, not everything. I promise to take care of myself and my friends, if they let me. I am good at screwing up so nothing new here. Just need to screw up without guilt. I do learn from my mistakes but not all the time. I know that some causes of problems cannot be eliminated but I will certainly eliminate the ‘eliminatables’ and manage others.

I will work hard at not being perfect. That is the bane of my life!

Grounded by fear!

I’ve been hit by both physical and mental lethargy and it is not funny! I feel like fashioning some wire coat hangers to prop myself up but I know that I won’t even have the strength to bend those wires into shape. It is like my real muscles have decided to go on AWOL.

Mentally my level of consciousness is zero. I want to sleep yet I feel too tired to do so! I cannot concentrate (Am I even making sense as I write this!). I cannot think and cannot think out why I am not thinking. O boy, what a mess. I am supposed to be working from home today – you know, articles to write, mails to reply, rooms to tidy, shopping to do (God, I don’t want to be seen by anybody) but what have I done so far? Nothing. My brain is a mush!!

I know what my problem is. I have a mother who is 100 years old but two days ago, started getting weak. I am so far away and can do very little from here. I know that she is in good hands. No, that’s not my worry.

I am just frightened that I might get a bad news. And don’t tell me that she has lived a long life. It is never enough!

I recently encountered a man who is difficult, obnoxious and downright rude. Nothing is good unless it comes from him. He has no respect for people in authority, believes only in himself and knows how to use his pen or shall I say computer keyboard as a poisonous dart. He says things with the intention of hurting others.

But I will not be doing myself and my age any favours if I pretend not to have seen his kind. I’m sure you have too. I don’t know what your first instinct is when faced with such characters. Being only human, mine is often to protect myself when attacked. Like the Hulk, I find myself thinking “Don’t make me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry!” But my intelligence overrides any tit for tat actions I sometimes feel like taking, for which I thank God.

I don’t know who said that “Holding a grudge against someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die”. How true! I have learnt not to hold grudges because it gives me skin pain. What’s more, while I’m there seething with anger, the perpetrator might be relaxing at home quaffing beer, unaware that I’m seething.

No, I value my life and my sanity. And I don’t want to age before my time or even when it is my time to do so. That’s why I smile more than I frown; dance whenever I can, even in my kitchen while I cook and often see every cup as half full – even if there is just a drop in the bottom. Believe me, if you say that it is half full, then it really is!

Yep, like my late father used to say, “My shoulders are broad enough.”

Finally, I thank God that I am not married to this guy! His home life must suck!!

And all because the lady loved cheese

It happened 33 years ago in a country that neither manufactured nor saw cheese as part of its food; there were yummier and more wholesome things to keep the mouth busy! In fact the only places to get cheese were from the very few specialist shops that catered for the foreigners who lived and worked there. But this young girl had developed a liking for cheese, an act that seemed odd and baffled many.

Now the real story. She married in her final year in the University and soon after her degree exams, set off to overseas to join her young love who had proceeded before her. The plan was that she would stop over in the capital city, visit with husband’s eldest brother and his family and then fly off from there. This newly acquired brother-in-law called her to find out what she would enjoy eating while she was with them. Cheese, she promptly answered. The silly girl did not even pause and think how the cheese could be acquired. All she knew was that her favourite thing to eat was cheese.

And so she flew into town and was warmly welcomed by her new family. Come evening time and her brother-in-law returned from work. Between his newspapers, files and briefcase was a carrier bag looking rather heavy. He approached the young bride, gave her a big hug, and then dropping the papers, briefcase and files on the table, offered her the carrier bag. “For you,” he said. The bag weighed a ton. OK, less than that but still very heavy. Peering inside, she was confronted by the biggest slab of cheese she had ever seen or might see again. It seemed that instead of asking the shopkeeper to cut him a slab, her benefactor must have gone for the whole piece in the shop! It must have cost him a bundle but did he seem to have minded? Nah!!

Over the years, this bride (no longer young!) was to find out that his generosity did not start or end with her. He was a born giver who delighted in giving to relatives and his community. He also delighted in good news, rejoiced with people in their success and shared in their joy and sorrow. He was big but his heart was bigger. He was a man of the people, a great story teller and even enjoyed an occasional gossip too. He was a joy to be with. What’s more, he gave without expecting anything in return. Two years ago when he visited his brother whose wife he indulged with the slab of cheese, she reminded him of his largess and asked how he expected her to eat a whole cheese within a short time. “Well, you said that you liked it and so I got it for you,” was his answer.

Yes, life dealt him a few bad hands which made him recoil a little. But he remained ever so loyal. On the 5th of December 2009, he graced his young nephew’s wedding and despite his arthritis and ill health, danced with the young couple. On the 21 of December, he took his last breath, plunging his family, both immediate and extended, his community and all those who had the honour of knowing him into grief and mourning.

Sam, thanks for the cheese, for encouraging me, for your joy in my successes in life, for bragging about me, my husband and children. But most of all, thank you for being you. I will remember you not only when I eat cheese but always. Rest in peace!

I'm plain lazy!

Is it that I'm too busy, have run out of ideas, my computer crashed or just plain lazy to blog? I think that the last reason is it! Must wake up from slumber 'cause my heart is not at rest. It keeps saying "turn around Chika, get on with what you know you're good at and what you enjoy doing!"

No, this has nothing to do with New Year resolution. I gave up on that years ago as it often lasted until the week after January one; or was it less than that? Yep you've heard of people like me, those whose stick-with-itness is zero when it comes to resolutions. Well, why would I promise not to eat when I am surrounded by lots of goodies and have worked hard to earn every morsel of it.

No. Resolutions don't work for me. What does is when I try on that pair of jeans and find that I have to take a deep breath before the zip agrees to ride up. Like now!

Luckily the constant January barrage from Weightwatchers dropped into my mailbox yesterday. Might just decide to take a look at it!

Accept help from others

Why do some people find it difficult to accept help? I had just demolished a steep hill during my daily walk and was huffing and puffing from every orifice of my body, when I chanced upon an elderly lady about to cross the road. She had a walking stick and three shopping bags filled to the brim. She had taken them out of a car and the boot was still open exposing more bags. Being me, I immediately crossed over and asked if I could lend a hand.

 “I’m all right love,” she said, adding that her house was just on the other side of the road.

 “No, you’re not, you silly dear and don’t make me change my mind,” I found myself thinking.

 I ignored her comment, reached out, and tried to take the bags from her but she was still insisting that she did not need any help. I grabbed the bags anyway but must have applied some force because her fingers got entangled to the handles.  “Easy, tiger!” I cautioned myself as I gently freed her hands and walked with her across the road to her front door.

 “You’re such a lovely lady and I did not really want to bother you,” she said and then asked if I could help her with the rest of her bags. “My arthritis is playing up this morning but I needed to shop as I had practically run out of everything.”

 Bother me? Did you ask for my help? I would not have offered if I did not wish to help. She forgot that “Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being.”

 “Do you live around here? I have seen you a couple of times walking by,” she said, as I put down the last bag by her doorstep. “It will be ever so lovely to have you over for coffee. I don’t get to talk to many people, you see.”

 “Thank you but I don’t live around here. It is just on my walking route. Have a good day,” I concluded as I stepped out to continue my interrupted walk.

 Like my dear old lady, many of us find it hard to accept help from others. I attribute it to pride. We don’t want to be viewed as weak and frail. We want to prove that we are in control, even if we are dying. That is silly! We all need help. It does not make us less human to seek it or accept it.

 A friend told how he offered his seat on a bus to a lady with a young child only to get abuses for his effort. “Well, you can bet that I will not do it again.”

“What a pity,” I said and then reminded him that "Success has nothing to do with what you gain in life or accomplish for yourself. It’s what you do for others.” Even if they make you angry in the process.

 I don’t know about you but I experience pure joy out of helping people. And it seems that I am not the only one." In a national survey involving over 3000 volunteers from all fields, nearly 95% of them reported that helping people on a regular basis gives them an immediate pleasurable sensation. ‘Helper's high’ consists of physical and emotional sensations, including sudden warmth, a surge of energy, excitement and joy, immediately after helping.

Another reward we get from helping is a healthy distraction. Shifting the focus from ourselves to others takes us away from the hassles of life, at least temporarily. It blocks pain because our attention is shifted from personal pain to the plight of fellow human beings. I could tell that my strides changed as soon as I was on my way after my encounter with my elderly friend. I was ready for the next hill. When I got to it, my breathing was not forced. Cranking up the volume on my Ipod, I hummed along to the music and became oblivious to the time and distance from that point to my home.

 

 

 

 

Teach the children well

In the mid 70s, my husband, a newly qualified medical doctor arrived in this country for his post graduate program. One day he was asked by a member of hospital staff if it was true that Africans live in trees. He looked the lady from head to toe and then up again, smiled and walked away.

 Some months later, when he was back home on holiday, he bought a post card (the ubiquitous kind that shows swaying palm trees kissing the white sands, beside a calm, blue sea)  Turning to the little space often left for messages, he wrote: “Back home and having a lovely time. If you look carefully, you will see me perched on one of the coconut trees.”  He sent it off to the lady - upon return, she never spoke to him again!

 Fast forward 33 years later to yesterday. I was invited by a school to help with their African study month. I had two sessions with two classes, each consisting of 30 seven-year olds. We had a ball. We talked about the different people that make up my country, in comparison with theirs. We danced, talked about and shared some of the food produced in the vast arable land of my fathers. We discussed the different languages that make the country unique and tried some of them out. We looked at the part played by folklore in the lives of children and shared a story. We had a good laugh. But I also noticed something.

 The children were surprised when I told them that houses range from big mansions to make-shift huts belonging to the nomads; that some children play with X-boxes just as they do here, as well as home made toys for those who cannot afford proper toys. They wowed when I mentioned that some kids go to school in their parent’s cars or buses, while many others walk to school. Their jaws dropped when they realized that there are some big schools in my country, as well as those made of baked mud and rusty zinc roofs. Their reaction set my teeth on edge so I decided to ask them what they have been learning about my country. Many hands shot up.

 “We have learned that people do not have food to eat,” piped up an innocent voice. I felt a lump in my throat but pushed it down with a smile. “Right!”, I said turning to another little hand and excited face. “There are lots of diseases in your country.” My smile grew wider as the lump was joined by another choking one. “Great! Awesomely great!! What else do you know about my country,” I squeaked, praying for a miracle. “What is hepatitis? My dad went to climb Kilimanjaro and became sick.” “No, Kilimanjaro is in Tanzania,” said the teacher, shutting the child up.

 Well well!! So, of all the things children could have learned about this country, all they know of it are diseases and hunger. What a picture for their little minds! Yet the country in question:

• Was using iron and other metals by about 500BC (Iron age Nok culture)
• Had an ancient form of writing (Nsibidi) that existed over 1000 years ago.
• Is the sixth largest oil producer in the world and among the top five coco bean producers (they would have loved to know how chocolates get to them!)
• Has more writers and authors than the rest of West Africa combined and has produced the only black African to have won the Nobel Prize for Literature.
• Is noted globally for its arts and craft, its population (every third African is from this country) and over 100 different languages.

 There is no denying that some people go hungry in my country, just as in many other countries, or the fact that people suffer from various diseases. What country doesn’t? But spending weeks teaching children only negative things about a country is a great disservice to us all; it is unpardonable and morally wrong.

 It is like teachers in my country sitting their children down for a lesson in this foreign land. They then spend hours telling them that every adult, including their parents must undergo criminal checks before they are allowed to enter their school and interact with children, because there are many perverts preying on kids. It is like teaching them that people sleep on park benches with cardboards for blankets because they are homeless. Or they could tell them that the government pays people to be unemployed and lazy. Yea, sounds nasty, doesn’t it?

 Let’s learn to teach our children right and stop filling their minds with negatives and running other countries down!

Availing ourselves of opportunites

One of my big regrets in life – and I don’t have many of those – is that I cannot speak Arabic. Yet I lived in Saudi Arabia for years! The excuse I have always used when asked is that because we lived in an expatriate community, I did not have proper chance to learn it. Baloney!  Yes, we did live an exclusive life, but hey, I worked and interacted socially with Saudis and others Arabs. I held good cards but did not play them well.  I was brain lazy and simply content to learn enough to get by; especially when out shopping. Shukran!

 Opportunities often come to us disguised as hard work so most of us don’t recognize them even if they are staring us in the face. If only I had listened to Churchill who warned that the pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity while the optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty. Accepting that I am a pessimist is rather hard to swallow. I always prided myself as an optimist.

 Count yourself lucky if you still have the chance to recapture lost opportunities. I know a lady who at 42 is trying to pick up the shattered pieces of her education. She dropped out aged 15 because according to her, she was surrounded by discouragers. “My mother never believed that I could amount to anything and because she did not go through school, felt that neither I nor my siblings should do so.” We all ended up doing menial and boring jobs.” But the sun is rising again for her. She is now attending night school and tackling her O-level papers one at a time. I have noticed that her hitherto stooped shoulders are getting straighter and there seems to be more bounce in her steps.

 I will not live in Saudi Arabia again. I might never speak fluent Arabic. But I am determined never to allow good things to pass me by again. I will give every chance that life throws my way the best shot. I will forever remind myself of the Arabic proverb which says that “four things come not back: the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life and the neglected opportunity.”

 So watch out Mr. Opportunity.  If you are flying by, I will jump high and grab you. If you are at ground level, I will stoop and pick you up. I will even develop eyes at the back of my head so that I can spy you. Any way you come, I will be ready.

 And so should you.

 

Daughter of an Alzheimer sufferer

I spent the few weeks before Christmas visiting with my mother who at 98 is suffering from Alzheimer's disease. The last time I visited with her in December of 2007, we could still hold some conversations, she could still recognize me, she could still feed herself and take care of her personal hygiene. "Wow!" I said to myself, "this old, lovable, proud, high achieving bird can still fly high!!"

 But this time, it was very different and heart wrenching for me. In all the weeks I stayed with her, she did not recognize me. Yet she kept telling me about me. "Come, this lady sitting here, do you know that I have a daughter called Norah?" "Mama," I would say holding her hand and looking into her eyes, "It's me and I have been with you for days." She would then either say “OK” or “Is it really you?,” then immediately regress to her life as a girl living with her parents.  Luckily, she had a wonderful childhood within a noble family. This was reflected on her face as she talked and even 'interacted' with her parents and brother.

 It is sad to see one's mother reduced to a level where life as we know it, no longer has a meaning, where she cannot eat unless fed, where she cannot attend to her toilet needs unless assisted. I shed buckets of tears during my stay with her. I kept remembering a lady who ran a busy domestic science school and whose very presence was enough to put fear in people. In my mind’s eyes, I could still hear her witty words and feel her sharp mind and even witness her cut my medical father down with the turn of her head. Yes, father had a better education but mother went through the University of Life and emerged sharper than a Harvard graduate. Together, they brought up children who did not only fear God but also grew up respecting man but with our shoulders held high.

 Watching my mother going through what seems like second childhood was not amusing. It reminded me again that this life can often end up controlling us despite all our efforts to take charge of it. But I was also grateful to God for His mercies and the fact that the only part of her suffering is her mind. The rest of her is as tough as nails and she actually looks like she could last another 20 years! Her eyesight is perfect, her teeth are strong and complete and she hardly suffers a sniffle. She sings all day long (songs she learned as a young girl), and enjoys her food.

 I thank and admire all those who care for Alzheimer sufferers. Mother is lovingly cared for by my youngest brother Kenneth, whose wife happens to be a registered nurse, a maid and others who love her.

 I am happy that I could be with her. Yes, she did not know that it was me, but I knew that it was her. She fed me as a child so I was able and glad to feed her this time round. She washed and clothed me and I have done the same for her. But more importantly, I listened to her stories, respected her and actually had a wonderfully good time visiting with her.

 

Consequences of Obama's Win

When you constantly tell your child that he can do anything, and that there is nobody like him, he starts believing in himself and living out your expectations. Barack Obama’s family must have said that to him when he was still a nipper. That is why today, he has been elected as the 44th president of USA.

Obama’s victory is being felt all over the world. I believe that the reason for this is due to its many consequences, including:

• People the world over will start believing that dreams do come true. If we aim high and give our all to our heart’s desires, the sky would be our limit. Yes, many will try to knock us down along the way. Many more would try to besmirch our character. But if we keep our eyes on our goals, we will make it.
  
• There is going to be a paradigm shift, similar to what Oprah called “a shift in consciousness” in black Americans, especially the men. They will be able to walk taller and aspire for greater things, knowing that they are possible, that they can be done. The days are gone when they lived with big chips on their shoulders. Today, those chips will have started to fall off.
  
• The world will be more united. The young will see Barack as their ideal. Non-Western countries will see him as a brother and work closely with him for the good of the entire world. Older white folks who are still steeped in ignorance and racial bias will be forced to look inwards and hopefully have a change of mind and attitude.
  
• African leaders will see a child of theirs as the leader of a great nation and work harder not to let him down. This they will do by working harder to uphold the dignity of Africans, which does not seem to be their focus right now.
  
• His campaign slogan was “CHANGE”. He is not perceived as part of what one would call the ‘establishment. He offers an opportunity to look at many things in a different, fresh way, not through the blurred spectacles of the past, or the status quo. That is one hope that many people have and hope to realize through him. The current world order, including economics, trouble in the Middle East, insecurity of air travel, world-wide ‘terrorism’, vilification of Muslims, or specific nations….these are potentially all up for review and hopefully change for good.
  
• P Diddy said that growing up; he would have been too embarrassed to say that he would like to be the president of America. But he can now see his children saying and believing that it is possible. Young men and women of all colours, races and religion will relate to this. What a consequence!

Yep, change has come to America. But the change is not only in America. It has come to the world. Way to go Barack! Congratulations and make those who believe in you proud!!

Life's simple pleasures

My husband, Emmanuel, has a few acts that he calls life's little pleasures. These include stopping on a lay by along open country roads to watch the sun go down, munching on a bowl of corn, simply popped with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of salt. Of course I can't conclude this list without adding his best-ever pleasure, eating roasted corns.

I remember once on a drive from Ayia napa back to Limassol during one of our trips to Cyprus. We suddenly chanced upon a roadside stand of a corn roaster setting up his wares. Corn!, I shouted, not really for my own sake but for his (yea, sure!) Emmanuel almost brought the car to a complete standstill right there on the road and then whipped round the steering for a perfect u-turn. Boy, did I thank my lucky stars that the island's police were probably busy inside the city where they felt that unruly tourists only existed! I am still trying to remember how long it took before we could stand another meal after attacking the corn that evening. For the seller, it must have been the best day ever. Yep, this is one of life's simple pleasures.

The last weekend also went down on my list of a pleasurable period. In fact, I had a weekend many people out there would give all their wealth to have. No, I didn't pull out all stops on my credit card at the boutiques; neither did I spend an evening at the best French restaurant in town. I was home cooking and chilling with some of my children and their friends who came down from London. It was good having them and somehow, the house expanded to contain everybody. At one point, I had twelve people inside, with most sitting around the dining table. These were mostly young professionals like doctors, bankers and financial analysts. For the weekend, they forgot the world of credit crunch, sick patients and dwindling clients. It was joy and laughter all the way.

Having most of my family under one roof was a joy. I kept looking at them, listening to their peculiar laughter and feeling that all was well. Emmanuel and I exchanged a few smiles and hugs and thanked God for his blessings. He felt that I was spending a lot of time in the kitchen though. What he did not realize was that as a mother, it was simply the best place to be, then. What's more, I knew that I was not going to bother with cleaning up afterwards. My children are aces at that.

Yep, it was one of life's simple pleasures and one I could not exchange for all the gold in Christendom.

Blow that low self esteem!

Have you ever felt that you missed out when God was dishing out talents to humans? Do you know someone who feels that he/she is good at nothing? Then let me tell you some home truth. There is no human that is useless in everything. Hey, even animals; who are considered lower than us, are talented. As I write this, a beautiful squirrel is in my garden making, what in my human eyes is a mess, but what in his is a methodology for unearthing some sustenance. Wish there is a way of letting it know that it must clean up after its mess! I just tidied my garden over the weekend.

I had a friend who used to envy my writing skills. She believed that she was 'no good' at anything, not even raising her kids, although she had three beautiful and well-mannered daughters that were the envy of the community. But try telling her that and she would quickly tell you that you were just saying it to make her feel good. She walked about with hunched shoulders, never looking people in the eyes. To make herself feel useful and wanted, she tried pleasing everybody, and subsequently got used by many.

This lady's curry dishes were to-die-for. Her chapattis rivalled those of Madhur Jafffery on Western palate, and her desserts were irresistible even for die-hard dieters. I knew because I was one of those who benefited from her largess and free nosh. Sad to say that some of us started asking her to produce dishes for our parties for free, which she was glad to do. We even passed these creations off as the works of our hands!

Still dying to be a writer, she once sent me her 'masterpiece' to view. It was worse than awful. A junior high school kid could have done better. Sorry to say that I took delight in changing the colour of her pages with a yellow marker! Her shoulders hunched twice after she received the corrected pages. "I told you that I can never be good at anything," she lamented.

That was when I allowed my good side to take over. My friend had very low self esteem. This has been described as the sum of a set of judgements about one's value, worthiness, and competence in various domains. She did the sum and got zero! I knew that she was high on the achievement ladder and just needed someone to point that out. About time I did some good deed, I told myself.

The next time she came bearing another awesome dish, I called her aside for a chat.
"Do you realise that your curry is the talk of this community?"
"O no!" she exclaimed her shoulders falling down a couple of notches, "I knew it, I knew that I can never make a good curry. People take it and pretend to like it. O dear, shall I...?"
"No, no, no, please listen" I cut in, placing a hand on her shoulders and pushing her face up. "You curry is the best for miles around and not only your curry," I rushed on. " Your pizza is great and your desserts even greater."
"Oh really?", she beamed looking me in the eyes.
"Yes," I continued. Have you ever considered selling these masterpieces because folks would pay a lot to have you cook for them."
"No! no!! no!! I can never do that."
"Yes! yes!!, yes!!! you can, and you should start by participating in the next International Food festival the community is holding."

To cut a long story short, she did sell her food and made quite a killing. That led to orders and sales from home. A lucrative business had taken off.

My friend started walking tall and I stopped getting free curries! But that's alright. The important thing was that she found her true calling

Have you found yours? I know that it is there. Just look hard or consult your friends. The honest ones will always tell you what you are good at.

Unless like me, they enjoy letting you steam for sometime.

The trouble with preconception

Why do we spend our lives in loneliness and isolation when there are wonderful folks out there who would not only be company but also enrich our lives?

Today, I decided to go out of my self-induced-home loving-but-lonely-self and take an acquaintance out for lunch. The fun started when I stopped at her house to pick her up. I spent twenty minutes getting to know her and her partner better (by the way, I dont like the term partner!). This was an education on its own because this older gentleman is a repository of history. Every utterance of his was peppered with wisdom. He read books from authors I never knew existed, who write about topics I never knew had been written about. I left promising to seek out the nearest library to my house.

My friend knew this place where they serve great Caribean food. We decided to patronize our brothers. The food lived up to expectation so we asked to give our compliment directly to the chef. Out came this brother with the most amazing dreadlocks; neatly gathered and held with a blue bandana. Now, I must confess that I have never talked to a guy with dreadlocks. Why? Because of some preconcived notion that dreadlocks signify trouble. I bought the unschooled and ignorant notion that wearers are rebels. I can now confute this belief, thanks to the young man who spent just fifteen minutes with us and left me ashamed of my unjustified belief.

From St Kitts, he is working two jobs to ensure that not only himself but his people back home are alright. His dream is to go home, although he regrets the fact that his beautiful island is falling apart. Talking to him, I ended up seeing the dreads as a crowning glory on the head of person who is not only a great cook but also an intellegent and focused gentleman.

Driving home, I remembered bible characters like John the Baptist and Samson who we admire and who were supposed to be close to God. Did those alive at that time cross the roads at their approach because they looked different? "Yikes, here comes those troublesome Nazerenes!" Could dreads have been more acceptable if it originated from the Western world? Why did I allow myself to see them as trouble just because some ignorant people said so? How many of us lose out on life due to prejudice? Questions! questions!! questions!!!

Arriving home, I decided to make use of my God-given intelligence and read up on Rastafarians and dreadlocks. It makes a fascinating read and I recommend you to delve into it yourself.

Will this make me grow such locks in the future? No way. I don't even think that my scanty, flyaway hair can be coaxed into it. But I will have more respect for those who do. More importantly, I will try harder not to be guided by other peoples opinion but rather work hard at finding out for myself. That's is part of the reason why God gave me my brains. I do Him injustice everytime I fail to use it.

Here I go!

My head feels heavy all the time. Not because the good Lord got his act wrong and produced a woman with a super-sized cranium. No, the weight is from all the ideas and thoughts it contains. That's the main reason for setting up this blog. To save those who care about me the trouble of having to deal with a messy explosive head on day, I have opted to share my thoughts with the world here. I still don't know what you guys are going to get from me. With time, I might just be able to focus on some topics. But for now, do take me as you see me.

I am a born writer and the fact that I currently have no avenue of letting off steam is a killer. Since I left Saudi Arabia and 'The Arabia Sun', I have been dying to see my name in prints again. That was why I jumped at the chance to prove my mettle when the 'Bournemouth Echo' asked for writers to compete at this year's I'm a Columnist, get me in here. It felt so good when I was announced the overall winner, and even better seeing the published article on Saturday, June 28. I have never had my name written so boldly!

Why Antimuzzy I hear you ask. Well, why not? Muzzy means confused, dazed, blurred, indistinct, etc. Add the anti and you get my drift.

What I ask of you are two things. One is that you let me know what you think of my musing. Secondly please help me to share these thoughts with others.

And so I set out on this journey. Wish me luck and happy reading from me to you.