Saturday, 28 September 2013

I Forgot


I forgot to be happy
I forgot to smile
I forgot to laugh and enjoy the little moments in life

I forgot to be a child with everyone forcing me to grow up
I forgot to play
I forgot to cherish the little things in life

I was so busy being everyone to me
Being my own mother, best friend and lover
So busy being everyone that
I forgot to be Me

Thursday, 26 September 2013

Is The Stomach Really The Way To A Man's Heart?


Any and every Nigerian woman or should I say African woman must have heard this phrase while being drawn away from the magazine or the TV to help their mothers out in the kitchen. Our mothers, oblivious to our grumbling every single time still chant this over and over as they yell at you to come help them out with the meals. Not so much of help if it is involuntary.

I'm quite traditional, I do like cooking and I enjoy learning new dishes, being a traditional wife doesn't repulse me. Having two mothers really panned that out for me, from a young age we would drag 'stools' to climb the sink and wash the dishes. As the years went by we graduated to bigger and more menial culinary jobs. Now none of my mothers ever actually held a lesson where they taught you how to cook a particular dish but you were just supposed to know and sometimes you would be thrust with the responsibility of feeding the whole family. And by whole family I include those unexpected guests with impeccable timing who arrive when the food is ready. Which is why when I took over the kitchen at the age of 15 I thought I was going to die. But I've learnt a lot and I'm grateful for that experience.

Fast forward to today, being away from home and mixed with different people from different cultures I was shocked at first to know of many girls who couldn't cook. I just expected that their mothers shouted the same quote at them too, maybe I was wrong. But with the whole new century and western world ish, I know many girls who can't cook and still keep a boyfriend/husband. I was once told that things had changed and the way to a man's heart wasn't through his stomach anymore but through... you know. God forbid that my mother hears or meets the girl who said that, her name would be sorry.

But does it really matter if a girl can cook or not? I mean relationships are all about compromise right? Things have really changed from back in the days when women wore aprons, raised the babies, maintained a slim waist and still performed their marital duties behind closed doors while the men were MEN (real men). Now if society is so relaxed on what defines a man, and doesn't pressure them as much as in the past that at 25 he's still in his parent's home playing FIFA surely it should extend the same courtesy to us women, right?


Monday, 23 September 2013

Hello From Paradise

I promised pictures from my holiday in Barbados, here are some of them. I miss the sun, cocktails and happy atmosphere already.



















I want to go back :( 





Sunday, 22 September 2013

Tough Love


For as long as I can remember, tough love is about the only form of love you can get in my house. It worked out for siblings, I however came out as the emotional needy one. And when you combine that with my family, it's not the best result. 

I would probably sit in a corner crying my eyes out and my mum would say something like 'ehn let her cry now, it's good for her eyes sef, it would wash the dirt out'. Till today I believe that's the reason why my eyes are so white. No one would even look my way or talk of even cuddling me or petting me. Gosh I disliked my family for a long time cause of that. I needed the emotional love, the overbearing cuddly warm kind of love and I seemed to be getting the opposite of that. 

You would think 21 years of that would have toughened me up but I'm still a bit emotionally needy. So last year when something devastating happened to me and I was bawling my eyes out, guess what my mother said to me?

I had just narrated the events that took place and she goes "are you dead?" I was shocked, irritated and angry at the same time. I thought to myself, what kind of question is that, why would she ask that? Did she not hear what I just finished saying? 

So I said "what?", praying that the question was for someone else. But no, not my mother. She still repeated the same question "are you dead?" I decided I would answer to see where it was going. So I said "no" and she said "as long as you're alive, there's hope. Stop crying". 

Wow mother -_-

It's not what I wanted to hear but it's what I needed to hear. She could have sugar coated it for me, pat my hair, kiss my cheek and spoil me a little but not my mum. She nips it straight in the bud. I need the fuzzily warm pampering kind of love. But a little tough love never hurt. So with that I wiped my tears, prayed to God and mother was right. There was hope as long as I was alive. 

So dear daughter, in as much as I want to give you the kind of love I didn't get, expect the tough love once in a while because it made me the woman I am today.