The Wedding-List Treaty!

 

At the family meeting holding in Susan’s parents’ house, the elders had already given up on the issue of the day. But if every other person was tired, Susan’s father was not. He insisted on getting everything on the request-list met.

As long as he was concerned, if Susan has stayed unmarried all these years, then she must not be given out ‘cheaply’ in marriage. He remains the father of the bride and must enjoy full benefits for his God-given-position.

Susan is 39 years old and single. Besides her bag of degrees and varied trainings, she has good looks and puts up a likable mien among her friends. She hadn’t complained about being single; she may have been choosy, waiting for a man of her choice, but that was entirely her business.

For Susan’s father, the intending groom must buy him a Power- bike; one that he had always dreamed of, build a family-size house for him to upgrade his status from a tenant to a house-owner. He said he hadn’t asked for too much, because he already had the piece of land!

While the family meeting continued, Susan’s father said that having been prevailed upon by members of his family, he didn’t mind waving ‘the rest things’ on the list, but the first two items must be provided or else he was not going to give Susan out for marriage.

Again, he thought that since his family wanted him to let go of the building request, then they should also yank off some of their own items meant for members of the family.  He concluded that the family was  somewhat more ‘greedy’ than himself,

 because he was the first and ‘original owner’  of the ‘commodity! Oops, ‘daughter’.

Susan’s case is just one out of so many. It is disturbing that some parents would want to exchange their daughters like a common commodity for material wealth.

There is no doubt that an intending groom should honour the parents and family of his proposed bride, but it becomes embarrassingly sad when outrageous price-tags are placed on the lady.

How would you rather handle this issue of ‘family-demand- list’, as a bride or groom to- be?

 

 

 

 

For Every Plan ‘A’ Get Ready A Plan ‘B’ too!

 

 

 

 

My recent experience on a ‘short programme’ has further exposed me to the fact that we may not necessarily have things work out the way we desire them. It may just happen that after developing a good plan and putting a good work strategy in place to execute the plan, things still work in the opposite way.

Having worked as a volunteer teacher at some point, I loved the feeling of giving a helping hand to people and seeing how well their lives were positively impacted. After that experience, I continued to look out for programmes that could give me such opportunities. Even when I had not taken up such task again for a long time, I considered giving in a short time to volunteering when a need arose.

I felt it was a good idea after all. But beyond my calculations, the first week passed by very quickly. ‘It wasn’t bad to give in a second week,’ I had thought. By the end of the third week, I woke up to the reality that time was never a friend, and that it was never patient enough to wait.

I struggled with arrangements to push an earlier scheduled assignment forward, but it was challenging because all what I was doing was happening in a different city. For everyone who could even help out, they complained about not having been told ahead of that time.

I knew that it wasn’t time for the blame game, so I had to let something go for the other to survive. The experience was not about the theories that are read from books, it was real with me.

I thought of the other plan that I should have put in place, but of course, the workability would only be tested on a next time!

With all said and experienced, I enjoyed an opportunity to listen to a very seasoned Business Management speaker and of everything that he shared, I was glad he talked about having ‘options’. Sure, he said that people who did anything based on limited options, ended up being more rustrated.

It feels great to be back and I must say that I missed you all!

 

Media or Biological Parenting?

                                   Photo: Google Images.

 

 

"Evaluate your parenting pattern and see if you or the media are responsible for bringing up your children.” This was how a guest speaker at a child development forum tasked parents to check their ‘scorecard’ on the kind of values that they allow their children have access to.

Discussions at the forum x-rayed practical realities on ground in the lives of families and the corresponding effect of parenting patterns on society. Even if some parents choose to live in deceit and denial, the truth remains that ‘you cannot eat your cake and have it.’

The choice to be a biological parent to your children demands your time and bond with them. It is understandable that financial demands push parents out to the fields, but such efforts become futile if the children for who you claim to be doing it turn out to be a pain because they couldn’t get proper upbringing.

Making reference to how parents brought up their children in ‘70s and 80s, it was clear that one of both parents took up jobs that ensured they were home same time that the children got back from school.

In most cases, the mothers who were known to be home-makers took up jobs that allowed them to have time for their children. During those periods, children enjoyed food cooked with love by their mothers for them, not just something to manage from the housemaids as is experienced today.

Children observed their siesta under the watchful eyes of their mothers who also helped them with home-works from school. At that time, television programmes followed strictly, time- belts for children and adult programmes. Children were entertained and educated progressively according to their ages.

When a child erred, the first thing was to ask whose child he was. But today, the issue of family identity is lost. In very many cases where both parents work late outside the home the children are left in the care of the housemaid who has no idea of what it takes to bring up a child.

Be Teachable!

                                    Photo: lacedwithgrace.com.

On this bright and beautiful Saturday morning, I woke up, but it was not at the usual time that I was used to on Saturdays.  The time was a few minutes after 7am and I was still feeling sleepy. I didn’t have anything in particular that demanded my attention, so I remained ‘blank’ seated on my bed with my pillow clung close to my bosom.

Not certain what I wanted to do, I managed to push my body back towards the wall where I rested on my back. I couldn’t also establish the fact if I slept off again and had a dream or if I had been through a real-life experience.

I was woken up at 10 am by the persistent sound of a knock on my bedroom door. I noticed that I didn’t go back to stretch myself on the bed but remained in the same position. However, I realised that I had been put through a two- hour life’s lessons. Recalling the sequence of events as they happened was not a problem, but my worry was why the message was given to me and at that time.

I remembered how I wanted to  be fully awake and got out of bed, but  how also a very sharp, piecing voice spoke, calmly and specifically: “ Get your Bible and read out loud the scripture in Habakkuk 2: 2-3, and when you have read it I will tell you why, if you still do not know ”.  I felt very dumb and couldn’t ask questions in the manner that I should have done.

I held my Bible close to my eyes, though I couldn’t recall how it got to my hands. Reading as loud as I could, Habakkuk 2: 2-3 says: “And the Lord answered me and said: “Write the vision and make it plain on tablets, that he may run who reads it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time; But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; Because it will surely come, it will not tarry”.

Like an infant who looks up to his teacher for approval for a work done, I looked all around the room hoping to see the eyes that would give an approval, but they were not there. My effort to stand up was futile and all I got was another word. “If you can understand the pronouncements, then there are two things that you must do.”  I only looked more confused as the dialogue continued:

Fighting The Girl-Child-Battle ( Short Story)



                                Photo credit: zazzi.com.

 

I have just been delivered of my forth baby and she is a girl! She looks so beautiful and very much like her other three sisters. I love her just as I love her sisters, but I am searching for a place of joy in my heart.

I don’t want to be deceived that all will be well, because my husband has been planning on what to do when the baby is born and it is a male child. He never talked about if the child turned out to be another girl.

I have had some very terrible times with him. On several occasions he walks into the room and screams just how tired he was of living in a ‘girls hostel’ with pink dresses and hair decorators flying all over the place.

It is never either comforting whenever his older brother comes visiting the family. They ‘gist’ for long hours, like the world were made for the two of them. I look at them from a corner of my eye and just pretend to be busy with nothing. My heart faints as I see the spark in his eyes. As they talk, they ‘sink’ the house in their deafening laughter.  I would usually walk into the room and expect the traditional line up of things that would follow.

When they are not settled for a football station where they watch live matches, they decide to go down the road to where I actually know not. He cries out for someone to come and lock the door and follows it immediately with ‘woman, don’t worry about food’. The few times I asked why, I didn’t get a response, so I stopped worrying.

The one I hate the most is when he talks about his colleague’s twin sons. He wished that he had a similar blessing, and then the world would be his! He loves their uncommon names; he is excited by the fact that they boys are taken to the football field with their dad on weekends.

But how is it my fault that I have only female children? Is there really a fault to cry about after all?  Well, I heard the nurse speaking with him that mother and baby are doing fine.

 

 

 

What Is Difficult In Keeping To Time?

 

                                         Credit: Photo Source.

Must there always be a problem with keeping to time especially in African societies? I grew up to hear and know that there is something called ‘African Time’, which simply translates to ‘lateness’ from as many guests as possible to a programme.

For those who indulge in the act of perpetual lateness to every occasion, the importance of the event does not matter; be it a wedding ceremony,  a dedication service or a business meeting. It is  so bad to the point that  some people  even go late  to their own wedding ceremony, thereby causing unnecessary tension with their act of indiscipline with proper time management.



At two different instances, a groom and a bride actually took away the glamour of their ‘D-Day’ by arriving the ceremony very late. Their excuses were not tenable because they did not manage their time properly, or did not consider that it was bad enough to keep the officiating ministers and the guests waiting, let alone their spouse.

In the case of the bride who went late to be joined to her groom, she wanted to look her very best and she was sure that her groom would wait for her. She assumed that if her groom could wait, every other person should too, but the Reverend Father started the Mass in her absence. Rightly, he said the Church was not under the bride’s authority and would not be subject to acts of indiscipline.

So many people have failed to keep to time for business meetings. They get terribly late for such appointments that they virtually run into the meeting, looking as horrible as their act of lateness. It gets more disturbing with the endless pleas for forgiveness and excuses for coming late.

When it began to look like people did not bother about what time they arrived at programmes, invites started bearing the caveat ‘African Time Not Allowed’.

While perpetual lateness to appointments is condemnable, these tips could help:

Agree on a reminder from a friend who is time-conscious; a call or a message in an hour earlier could help.

Conclude all preparations for the event on the previous day; this way, you will not be under pressure to meet up with time.

When you are not sure of the state of your vehicle, plan for an alternative means of transportation.

Determine never to use traffic situation as excuses for being late. You know your city (like Lagos), leave your home at least two hours to an event since no one enjoys being kept ‘on hold’.

 

 

Blessed To Be Raised By A Grandmother!

 

                                             Picture Source.

My grandmother was a great woman. She was dogged and ensured that she achieved her goals.  She told me the story of how my mother passed on during my delivery and how my father disappeared when he learned that my mother could not make it after having the baby.

Left with no other choice, my grandmother had to breastfeed me. Though aging at the time and visually challenged in one of her eyes, she strapped me on her back and took me to do her farm work.  She fed me with every kind of food she ate, but she never failed to go miles from our village to the town where immunization was administered to children at a cottage hospital.

My grandmother never had a formal education herself, but when I was at the age of seven, she followed in the company of other women and took me to the registration center in preparation for school. She used the shadows of objects to understand the school timing and went back home to wait for me after school every day.

I was quick to learn from families around me, though I had neither any aunt nor uncle. I had no understanding of who a cousin was, but my grandmother taught me the need and importance of showing love and giving help to other people. With her, I appreciated encouraging friends and being encouraged when hopes seem to have been dashed.

She shaped my life with her words and never failed to remind me of how proud she was of her late daughter, my mother. She always said to me that, “I will be fulfilled when you grow up as a man that would make your mother proud wherever she is.” Then, it sounded funny, but now I see how much sense she made.

During my high school days, I couldn’t be like the other boys of my age, because my grandmother would prefer to come and wait close to the football field where I played with my friends so that she could take me home.  Sometimes I was laughed at, but she told me that she would rather protect her own than lose an irreplaceable gift.  She would stroke my hair and pat my back.  We prayed together in the morning and at night.