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.