Sunday, 29 December 2013


It is no news that the unemployment rate in Nigeria is on the high side that some of the ministers had to cry out the exact or estimated percentage rate of unemployed citizens (youth) in the country. This made me recall the old good days as told by elders that back then in Nigeria, the moment you graduate from the university a job within the government agency or the private firms/company awaits you. But now (quoting the words of Director-General National Directorate of Employment) "school leavers and graduates of Nigerian tertiary institutions appear to be most adversely hit by this development (the escalating unemployment problem in Nigeria)."

I will disagree with the NDE DG on the note "that most Nigerian youths are unable to secure job because they do not have requisite skill." Nigerian youths are so skilled; the actual problem is not their skill but an avenue to display those skills. You will agree with me that what is trending in the labour market is job experience of unspeakable years. You do not expect a fresh graduate to have 5years working experience, for where he wan take get am? For class or him papa and mama compound?

What shocked me was seeing an advert from PHCN (as it then was) for a vacant position demanding for a person with 5 years experience among other requirements to apply. If you do not have the stated requirement, you cannot apply. I became bitter on the spot, that I did not know when I shouted "government agency too?"

The revamping of the informal sector would not be enough by mere distribution of equipments as stated by the NDE DG, but in addition, ensure granting of loan facilities as start-up Capital, repayable for at least 5years period. Also those youths who would rather want to work with the degrees, be employed without the unattainable criteria.

Taiwo Taiwo.

Wednesday, 18 December 2013


TODAY; I reminisced, I looked back, I reflected, and I realised how lucky I am....

I was out on company business with my best male friend but it seemed more like a casual drive around town. We talked about a lot of things, but most especially, our individual experiences. He spoke to me, and tried to make me reason differently on a number of topics. I learnt quite a lot from his stories and was greatly inspired by his words. He talked to me about Love; the love of our Lord, what love should mean, and how love should be interpreted. He told me love should be spiritual, and beyond the physical. Love should be identical to how our God loves us, it should be selfless and everlasting. Love should be everything that's different from what we see in our environment today.

Who do you love most in this world?...
My automatic response was "my sister of course", and my darling George simply smiled and corrected me. The person you love most in this world is you! In my opinion, loving yourself greatly before anybody else inhibits you from being able to portray the kind of love our God showers on us. If we cannot love like God, then we can at least try to  make the other person smile. Nothing makes George happier than seeing me (as well as the next person) smile, and to me, that is the greatest kind of love mortals can have. Going out of your way to see someone else smile is not a very popular act in our community and it doesn't make us too friendly. God loves those that show love to the common man without expecting anything in return but a smile...

A friend is someone that should love you, be there for you when you need them, encourage you against all odds, and ensure that you don't doubt their place in your life. I found out that while sulking that I did not have too many friends to talk to and have fun with at the moment, I actually have that one (1) special friend that have taken the place of ten (10) "friends" in my life. A friend that understands you without judging, while trying to help you become a better person. It took a talk about the love of God to realise it, but I do know now that I am genuinely loved, not just by my family, but by friends that are selfless in all accounts. To top that, God constantly remains faithful and merciful to me...

I'm Blessed!

Con amor.

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

MY IDENTITY By Munira Kadiri

Have you ever wondered or asked yourself one simple question, “Who am I?”
You might scoff and say, “Why would I ask myself such a question?” But then, think and ask yourself, “Who really am I?”, “What am I?” “When am I really being myself and when am I not?” “How do I want to be known?” “What is my identity?”
At a point in my life, I asked myself that question. Being such an indecisive girl, I couldn’t find a straight simple answer. I was torn between being a strong devoted Muslim lady or a crazy socialite as the new modern world expects a young educated lady as me to be. My parents gave me the total freedom to choose my path. With a very religious Elder sister, a very social and liberal Elder brother and a younger sister who, (though she never openly accepts it) looks up to me, I was literarily at crossroads. While living the life, I experienced the good, the bad and the ugly of everything; relationships, feelings and emotions, people’s character, struggle for survival, honesty, faith, devotion, freedom and socialization. At a point, I experienced total independence. I could do all I wanted to do. But having a strong Islamic conscience and a crazy social spirit waiting to emerge, I was at conflict with myself. At that moment, I asked myself, “Who am I?” Only after these experiences, did I figure it out. How I want to be known. The person I want everybody, including me, to see. The lady that can stand up tall and defend no matter where, when and who.
I am a Muslim lady with Allah as her Lord and I please no one but Him. I put on my hijab because my Lord orders me to, and because I want to be known as one who observes it. I’m not naïve, oppressed, unappreciated or unintelligent. On the contrary, I am respected, regarded, and treated like a queen. I am an independent lady who has found a balance between the social and religious life. I do unto others what I want done to me, I try to understand people and why they act the way they do so that I can live in peace with them and with myself. I exist to serve Allah and be happy, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
So that’s it, I know my identity……………

I am a Muslilah………………..


Tuesday, 3 December 2013

No one told me! By Amir Abdullahi

The really important lessons in life aren’t taught in any school. Come to think of it, they are the lessons no one will ever bother telling you about. Perhaps if they did, we wouldn’t go through life wondering why everything we do seems like a chore.

Growing up, people often told me how intelligent I was. Somehow, whenever they mentioned that, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I was just doing things by routine. As long as I got high marks, everyone was happy, right? Scoring a perfect on a test felt good. There was no denying that. Unfortunately, I never stopped to ask myself what I wanted to do at that point. I was barely filling out the JAMB form before everyone told me to register for medicine.

I survived the first year of pre-clinicals intact. It was just another year of science courses after all. It took me barely a month of second year to realise I was in the wrong place. Medicine just wasn’t the course for me. I had imagined things will work out as they always did but they didn’t. One week of anatomy was enough to show me I was not where I wanted to be.

The mistake I made was, in all that time when I was busy earning high marks for someone else’s approval, I never stopped to probe my own personality and figure out the things I really wanted to do with my life. Seeing through the looking glass was a process that began really late for me and the consequences still hurt me to this day.

The most precious commodity in the world is time and I ended up wasting three years of mine just because I hadn’t figured out what I wanted from life, hadn’t discovered what my interests were.

Teachers can teach you chemistry, history, physics or literature but none of them will teach you to ask yourself what your goal is. I drifted through almost a decade trying to please other people. That it took a very jarring and painful academic process to awaken me to the truth that I had missed the road a long time ago. No one can turn back the hand of time but if I had the insight into my own mind and personality that I do now, I would have made vastly different choices. I can’t know if they would have turned out for the better but I would have been doing what I wanted to do.

Very soon, I will be a quarter of a century old and I’m still doing catch up for those years I wasted and opportunities I failed to take. At an age when some of my mates are starting their adult lives, I just awakened to my interests.

No one in school will teach you this. If you have still not run headlong into the years between youth and adulthood, then take a deep breath and pause to figure out the things you like and what you expect from life. See if you can see that desire reflected in what you choose to do whether as a University student or elsewhere. Trust me, the choices you make in your teenage years may seem simple but they can haunt your life for a long time to come. That yoke is not easy to shake off.

Amir Abdullahi

Monday, 2 December 2013

Happy End of the Year!

I know I planned to start the post features for my blog on the 1st of December, 2013 but the last couple of days have been particularly stressing for me in every way. I am immensely sorry I didn't start when I had intended, but I guess that will also mean a longer time before we end this challenge.

Now, is the time to talk to ourselves. WRITING is not a special talent gotten from heaven; it's an habit that's cultivated over time and with practice. Don't get me wrong- I know that there are some people that are very much talented in the art of writing more than others but that's not the kind of writing I proposed here. I did not ask you to write professionally to win a NOBEL prize or an award that would get you recognised internationally. All I asked was for you to challenge yourself, pick up the pen and actually write... Write anything you like- something out of the blue... Write and have fun while at it! How difficult can that be?! Writing to me, the best form of expressing yourself after music. I love writing... I love listening to people/music, thinking, and putting down those thoughts on paper!
So, you can imagine how shocked I was when people sent me messages that "they could not write", "they didn't know how to write" or that "they prefer reading to writing". Some said that "they didn't have any talent in writing". I studied Physiology in school, and did not get any degree in writing. All I do is sit, think, and put down my thoughts in paper. Honestly, I'm not very happy with some people, not because they didn't take part in this challenge but because they already discouraged themselves before they even gave it a shot!. Its quite sad, and its one of the things inhibiting some of us from progressing. Our lack of faith in ourselves. We prefer to believe in others than to actually believe in our own ability to win or to succeed.
Nobody is going to believe in you if you don't first have faith in yourself! You as an individual need to trust in yourself and your capabilities to move the mountain before you even make a move to do so. No one is going to take a confused man seriously! You must be confident and sure of yourself in the face of challenges even if you're scared beyond the skies of messing up. You will either mess up badly or do really well, but I don't see any harm in trying when there's nothing to loose. Your success can only start with you believing that you can do anything, and practically you can if you really set your heart to it!.

On the other hand, I was also quite impressed with the few write ups I've received. They were neatly written, by people who were determined to see it through. I've had so much fun reading about the different things they wrote about and I'm certain you will also. The first featured post will be uploaded in the morning and subsequent ones will appear on later days. Please bear with me if it's a little late, work is very demanding at the moment.

Thank you

Your ever gorgeous and delectable,

Monday, 25 November 2013

WritinG ChallenGE!!!

Alhamdulillah!!! I have had an amazing weekend, with the most amazing family and wonderful man. Actually, what I call a fun weekend is more like a weekly weekend routine, but the fact that I woke up alive, I had the strength to do all that was required of me, and I radiated with happyness was enough to make the weekend very enjoyable for me.

Last week, I made a decision to challenge my friends. I decided to test their writing skills and at the same time, encourage them to do what a lot of them don't think about doing:- write for no reason. Although I have contacted some people I am most interested in challenging, I would love more people to participate. This exercise is meant to be fun and educative; it should help improve your vocabulary, literature, and mindset about writing

You are hereby challenged by LadyAries, to write on any topic of your choice (ranging from politics, religion, relationship, music, fashion, personal experience to your choice of profession) : ANYTHING at all. I will read and edit your write ups and post them on my blog through the first and second weeks of December.
All interested persons should send their write ups to by December 2nd, 2013.

Con amor

Sunday, 17 November 2013

The worst kind of Slavery!

You will have to pardon me for having strong views for some topics but most especially against the abuse of women! You will come across a lot about abuse in my blog because I can't seem to emphasize it enough! Abuse against women is wrong!!!
Maybe I have a future as an activist fighting for the right of women or maybe it is from this medium (i.e blog) that I will be able to reach out across men all over the world. Either way, the importance of respecting our women, wives, daughters, mothers can never be undermined. True!, men also get abused in different ways but the most common/popular is being inflicted by the men on us and more in the institution of marriage. If as a man you have known abuse and you have experienced pain, I would think that your conscience (and common sense) will prevent you from inflicting the same abuse (in some cases, worse) on your woman. Have you no empathy for her feelings? If you hate women so much, why then do you need one in your home? to warm your bed and make your meals? If you loathe the sight of her so much, why not set her free? Must you turn her into a slave to prove your manliness?

..... A man that hits his woman isn't a man, but a coward!

You marry her to love and to cherish; to protect and honour; for better or worse; in riches and in wealth; till death pulls you apart. Why then will you marry her and go back on your promise? Is it love to turn your woman into a maid in her own home? Hitting your wife and mother of your child is not an honourable act, and is not how to protect her! You married her to be your partner, confidant, lover, mother, sister and best friend. How can a man use a weapon to hit his wife? Have you no sense of right and wrong?! If you're so good at beating people up, then hit the gym to work off your steam or better still, be a professional boxer! Is it a thing of joy to know that your wife fears you? that she fears being killed or wasted by you? Does it thrill you, to know that she can't look into your eyes and voice out her opinion? Do you get pleasure out of abusing her in bed when she is least interested? Do you look in the mirror after hitting her and feel proud of yourself?

We really should lay importance in educating our women. It is not normal to be in an abusive relationship. The men that abuse women are MONSTERS in guise of men! Our women should be taught to love themselves, and not depend on a man. A woman that knows her right and her place in the world; a woman that is self sufficient cannot be intimidated by any man! No man can have any power over you if you do not give him the liberty. We need to teach our girls that an abusive relationship is not to be managed, it is to be left! We need to let them know that there are better and more caring men out there that would be lucky to have them. Respect but DON'T fear your man, he isn't your GOD!
I don't know what the holy books say about violence against women, but I know what I would want it to say! A man that hits his wife indirectly hits his mother, and he that disrespects his wife disrespects God.

Sunday, 27 October 2013

Experience of a Sickler...

Recently, my mother started complaining of back/waist pain. Initially, I thought it was the all-night marathon of prayer she does all week but after a few days of drugs and methylated cream, it simply got worse. Her legs had started aching too. Now, I don't like to boast or anything but this is something I'm quite experienced in (*chuckles*): Managing pain. And so, I took it upon myself to take care of my mother and make her feel better. I kissed her, joked, and tried to make her feel better.

I remember the day I was first diagnosed with sickle cell disease, my mother had to trek over 500km because there was no means of transport (it was a june 12 riot), with me on her back to the hospital.
I remember when my mother would sit with me, all night because I had to get hydrated at the hospital.
I remember how she would 'force-feed' me, just so I remain healthy.
I remember the way my mother would get my drugs and help me take them all, one by one. Even the ones that threatened to make me puke.
I remember vomiting on different occasions after using some drug and my mother would mop up after me with just a little tiny bit of complain (LMSAO).
I remember the days and nights my mother would bath me because I couldn't walk or bath on my own.
I remember the prayers my mother said on my behalf every hour of the day.
I remember the jokes and laughter she brought to my face when I was deep in pain.
I remember the pain I felt when my mother rubbed "bengay/deep heat" on my body and the grateful relief I felt as soon as she was done!
I remember each drop of every tear my mother shed when she thought the illness would take me away.
I remember my very few terrifying nightmares and how my mother soothed my fears
I remember how my mother took care of ALL my needs because I couldn't.
I remember the late nights we spent gisting about me and MY life!
I remember how she wouldn't sleep all night because she sat beside me on the sick bed.
I remember how happy my mother has been since I have been healthy and crisis-free....

I remember that I have an irreplaceable mother, and it is my duty to take care of her. As I helped her into bed, I pray the Lord keeps her safe and healthy for me.
My mother is a queen and she raised a mini version of herself!

See how well I turned out: A Queen of my own standard!

Sunday, 20 October 2013

Merger Match #2

Our traditional wedding (or is it called engagement?) was celebrated in grand style in the United Kingdom 2months before the white wedding is to take place... The event was graced by high society personnels, as well as the media. It was aired on national TV, and I'm sure a lot of women would have wanted (some might be willing to kill) to be in my shoes. I smiled so much, my cheeks ached at the end of the day. We were asked to stay behind in the UK for dress/suit fittings, and final preparations would be done on our behalf back home. 

...It is true that the person who risks nothing, does nothing- has nothing.

Last year when it seemed like he had exhausted all other options, Fola had attempted to go against his parents and marry the woman of his choice. His sister and I have always been close (almost like sisters) and she told me all he went through when he attempted it. His father sent his aides after him when he left the house, personally visited the girlfriend's family and all but threatened them, and threatened to curse his own son if he insisted on getting his way. Fola may be stubborn like his father, but he wasn't stupid. He knew when to step back and take another route but his father was quicker. He immediately met with my father and fixed a wedding date.
Shortly after our traditional wedding, we were left to be on our own and under the same roof. Only then did we start to talk about our future as a couple, as if it had just begun to dawn on us that "this is it". We talked about how we would make the most of our marriage. He had noticed how calm and laid back I was about the wedding and he feared that I may have a plan that could not only jeopardize the wedding, but also tarnish both families' image in society. He talked like a true man and pleaded with me to work with him, seeing as we were both in the same boat. He said he would like very much to trust me, and be a real husband to me but I had to give him a chance. What choice did I really have? I think I had accepted my fate long before he did, even though a part of me still tries to find a possible way out, but what's the use of pointing that out? I agreed with him, and we went for ring sizing the next day.

All we know about the future, is that it will be different. Perhaps what we fear, is that it will be the same or worse?... or do we fear it will be better than we hope?. 

I'm getting married in the presence of God and man in 2days and I have no idea what my wedding cake looks like. Tonight, when we had dinner, it dawned on me that I had no idea what my husband's favourite food is. We never even talked about our honeymoon, although I suspect our families will have that covered.
We got back from the United Kindom late this evening, and my father in-law sent a car to pick us up. This night is the last Fola will spend with his parents, while I still have one more night to spend with mine. Our parents had gotten us a house in our absence, fully furnished, and ready to live in with cars. We haven't been there yet, but the news was dropped on us at dinner. It was also decided that since we would not spend our wedding night in his family home, we should spend the night together before I go home in the morning. While everyone else assumed we were 'consummating' our "wedding" in his room, we were busy packing his things in preparation for him to move into our home tomorrow. We weren't done before he slept off, but I made sure to finish off before I joined him in bed. Sleep eludes me this night, and thinking about how it started till this minute has done nothing to help me. I realise that I cannot get out of this arrangement, nor will I disgrace my family. Fola may have been a pompous spoilt brat as a boy, but he has proved to have grown into a fine man. The few days we spent in UK after that 'talk' was quite beautiful. If we had been in love, it would have been amazing but I guess it's a start. He seemed to be more attentive, patient, and caring. It all seemed so confusing and complicated now. Unlike how it seemed easy months ago in my head. How do I leave this new man I have known, at the altar? How do I do the exact things he had predicted just weeks ago? Tarnish our families' image? I may not love or want him, but his family is like a second family and mine means the world to me...
I can say I've had a change of heart, but how do I explain myself to Ayo whom I have promised to elope with? How do I explain that I'm starting to develop strong feeling for a man I barely know?- possessive feelings! Do I tell Fola about my proposed plan? I have no idea if he still pines for his ex, but I know it's none of my business. What if our families hold on to their threats? Will we ever be happy? I know I have a better chance of peace doing what my parents want but will I be happy doing it? I may be the most unhappy wife on earth, if my husband chooses but I could also end up being the happiest bride in town. What if I elope with Ayo and he betrays me? How would I ever face my family again. Most importantly, how do I disobey a man I have NEVER disobeyed in 26years- my father.....
I don't know much about my husband and it feels like plunging into a dark path not knowing what to expect. Whether it is going to be worth it or not is something I cannot predict but I know that if he can accept fate and hold on to his word, then nothing stops me from doing the same. Nothing stops me from working with him to make this work.
I snuggled closer to my husband and his arms held me closer to him. 'That's a good sign', I thought and I smiled to myself. The last thing I thought about before drifting off is that I'm having my court wedding in approximately 6hours. I hope I those pearls I got last week will suit my outfit....

... We must celebrate changes because as someone once said, "everything will be alright in the end, and if it's not alright, then trust me it is not yet the end!"

Con amor

Thursday, 17 October 2013

Merger Match!

... I don't know what I want, but I know it's not this!...
That's all I could think of as I laid beside my fiancé. I looked at him as he slept, and what I felt was neither love nor hatred. It was resignation. We have been engaged for as long as I can remember, and it definitely wasn't a "match-made-in-heaven". Our parents have been the best of friends even before we were born, and I have a suspicion they made up their mind we would get married even before our births. It doesn't help that our fathers now hold political offices in the country and it feels like a merge acquisition or a business deal. My name is Dupe Olakiitan, soon to be Mrs Dupe Lawson. I was only just informed of my wedding date, and my husband to be is more or less a stranger to me. True, I've known him for 26years (Hell!, he was at my naming ceremony) but I really don't know him. When I was younger, and we would go visiting or vice versa, everyone called him my husband and called me his wife. Who would take such seriously? Definitely not a 5year old girl that barely spoke to the said boy. He is 4years older than I am, and I was more comfortable being friends with his younger siblings who were closer to my age. At the age of 16 when I got admission into the university, I realised it wasn't a joke at all. Our parents did our introduction, and made us realise we would get married as soon as I completed my education. Talk about being in denial! At the time, Fola was in his 3rd year (in the same university I got admitted into). He was asked to take care of me in school, and I was asked to try and get to know him. Naturally, none of that happened.
Two years after my father was satisfied with my qualifications, and I had started working, they decided it was time to get married. Wedding date was picked, we were informed, and they started going out of their way to throw us together. It was awkward at first, since we had nothing in common but after our parents made it compulsory that we represent them at occasions as a couple, we endeavoured to get along.

... The only real failure, is the failure to try. And the measure of success, is how we cope with disappointments.

Fola and I have known and accepted our fate has it has been drawn for us, but that doesn't mean we never tried. I can personally tell you about the times I tried talking with my mother, and pleaded with my Dad. I even went rebellious at a time and started a relationship with a guy I liked back in school. Actually, I told myself I was in love with him. Thinking about it now, I might have agreed to date him for selfish reasons.
My first month in school taught me that my fiancé is a pompous, and proud spoilt brat! After that, I did everything to avoid him, although he didn't bother seeking me out himself and I was fine with it! The times we 'mistakenly' ran into each other, we simply acknowledged each other's presence with casual greeting regardless of the fact that I wore the ring his parents bought me. He had strings of girlfriends (not that I gave a rats ass), had a reputation in school as "the ladies' man", and he definitely told none of his friends about his "arranged fiancée". As soon as he graduated, the first thing I did was remove the ring when in school, and the second was accept to date a guy I had been friends with since my 1st year. I had explained to Ayo that I was engaged, but he didn't mind. We dated for 2years, and we got serious by the 3rd when we both went for service. Of course I stayed back to serve in Lagos, while he was sent to Kano. Before my service was over, I was sent to UK for my masters programme. When I told my mother about my relationship, all hell broke loose. I was forbidden from seeing Ayo any longer and they made it clear he was not to be welcomed in our home. Ayo understood the pressure I was going through, coupled with the distance, and he started drifting away from me. To say I was heartbroken is an understatement, but i coped well enough as I stayed back for over a year in the UK after the completion of my MSc.

... Can we be blamed for being too scared of disappointments to start all over again? We get up in the morning, and do our best: Nothing else matters.

We (Fola and I) got along nicely, although more in the terms of 'politely'. Not the way a-soon-to-be married couple should act, but at least we were civil towards each other. Sometimes when we were really bored at these occasions, we actually talked about our lives and we seemed to understand each other's plight. From our talks, I learnt that he still had a girlfriend he was seeing. Apparently, he truly loved her and had no inkling how to inform her of his impending marriage. His family totally rejected the girl, and embarrassed her when she went visiting. At a point, Fola became miserable because his girlfriend broke up. She had read about our engagement in the paper, and called him with insults and curses on her tongue. When I noticed how sad he was, being that I knew exactly what he was feeling, I tried to help him get her back but she virtually told me to mind my business. I didn't take any offence though, nor did I hold any of her words to heart; Infact, I felt for the poor girl because all her hopes of marrying the man she loved had been crumbled.

(to be continued..)

Thursday, 26 September 2013

Mi Familia

I have probably dropped hints about the kinda AMAZING family I am fortunate to be born into, but its a wonder why I haven't dedicated a post to them. I'm rectifying that today by telling you what makes my family the best!
I know I should probably write about my parents first in this post, but they're actually not the MOST important in my life. Don't misunderstand me: I do love the silly, and they are very important in my life but if I'm to be honest, I'll tell you my sister is the center of my universe. I simply call her my world, my sunshine, my happiness, my baby, my princess or whatever else I deem fit. She's the most intriguing and wonderful sister in the world. Mostly, I tell her she's actually the reason for my existence but she just dismisses it. Mostly when I'm ill, she's all I think about; how she'll be feeling, is she sad? (I NEVER want to see my sister sad). When no other person can succeed in bringing a smile to my lips, she does and even adds light to my eyes. You've probably guessed by now that I love her beyond reason and you'ld be right. The most amazing thing is that she can be a huge pain in the butt, but I wouldn't have her any other way! :D :*

My father, popularly called Otunba, Chairman, or Alhaji (depending on who's doing the calling) has got to be the most caring father in the universe and hereafter. The Lord Almighty knowingly gave him the spirit of love, kindness, simplicity and the softest heart a man can possible possess. I can't tell you exactly what the 1st memory I had of my father is, but I probably blocked it out early in life. My sister and I never saw my father so much while growing up. He was in Abuja, and we schooled in lagos. Yes, we visited him during the long holidays, but it wasn't quite the same. As I grew up more, and he became a more constant part of our lives (moved back to lagos), I started to really understand him and I gave him another chance to spoil me rotten as his lil princess. I grew up and followed the path my Pa had drawn out for me, grateful and loving him all through. What I love most about my father, is how he endeavours to please us. Never wanting for anything nor lacking. He made me realise that it wasn't the amount of money in my pocket that made me wealthy, it is actually love of family. My father takes his family pretty seriously!

My mother, popularly called Alhaja or Mama Oriyomi by me, cannot be described by mere words. You know what they say about a mothers love surpassing any other kind of love? Well my mother is a MOTHER through and through. I call her the pillar of the Oladejo family, and I believe that without her, there probably wouldn't be Otunba Oladejo. She is every inch a woman: caring, loving, stronger than steel, yet so kind-hearted. I will be the luckiest girl if I can be half the woman my mother is someday. The most wonderful thing about my mother is just who she is. She is my angel, my guide, my queen, my MOTHER! My prayer is not complete in a day if I have asked the Lord to bless my mother abundantly. No use trying to find words to describe her, its nearly impossible. May Almighty Allah keep her for me, and make her the happiest of all mothers.

That is as far as my nuclear family goes, but its not where my family ends. I have a huge family, all of them awesome in their respective ways! Remember the saying, "blood is thicker than water"?, well in my world, love is even stronger than blood.
The YUSUF family!
I had to drop my pen at this junction as I have no idea where to begin. I am indeed blessed! I have the love of so many people, and they're MY family.
My Uncle Saheed (aka Ola Dollar), who has always been there for me every step of the way. He was there when I was young and lost, trying to lead me through example *smiles*; He was there, though emotionally and psychologically, when life became tough; He was there when the sun radiated in my life, he laughed with me, joked with me, and advised me on what's right . He's been a true brother, and he's always been there through it all!...

My Uncle Tee (aka Alhaji Habeebi *wide grin* aka Bro Tosin aka Afrika) is one of a kind. He's my sweetest big brother, he's always been amazing. I sometimes wonder who I love most between him and Uncle Saheed, and I usually end up thinking I love them both greatly! My Uncle Tee whom has no choice but to smile each time he sees me (Hehehehehe)! He was there when I went astray; He was there when things got rough, and we smiled together when everything got better. My big brother is a true gentleman and as loving as any man could be!

My surest Uncle KK is an inspiration in every possible way. With his beautiful wife (Sis BimBim), and their gorgeous princess Ameerah, we have the picture of a perfectly amazing family that I hold very close to my heart.

My Big Uncle KB and his wife Sis Tesly are 2 of a kind. So lovely and gentle-hearted. I'm sorry uncle KB, but Sis Tesly is gonna have to win in the amazing department here, with her beauty, talent, and the 2 cute babies (Aaliyah and Fadeelah) she's given us? Sis Tess, you ROCK!

My Biggest Sister, Doctor Korede. Where do I begin with her? With her motherly instincts, her love, the way caring seems so easy coming from her? She's the most amazing of the Yusuf clan! :p And the best of all is, she's a Doctor!!! \=D/

I'm the luckiest to have such wonderful people in my life! You're all worth more than gold to me, and you each hold special segments of my heart (Although some hold more than others) :D My life would never be complete without you all in it!

Con amor

Sunday, 15 September 2013

Child Not Bride?!

Knowingly, I have not written anything about the government on this blog. I did not write when anger brewed for the fuel susbsidy removal, nor did I write about the dullards we call leaders in our government. What I will write about though, is underage marriage. I didn't intend to write about it initially until I had the pleasure of coming across the story of a young girl from Yemen, Nujood Ali.

A few years ago when I heard about the 13year old girl one of our leaders, Senator Yerima married from Egypt with 100,000 Dollars and impregnated at the age of 14, I felt sick. Watching the event from my bed then, I wished there was something that could be done to get the little girl away from him. Eventually however, nothing was done to the Senator and all charges were dropped against him. That is the kind of country we live in. A country with laws that aren't implemented, a democratic country with little or no freedom, a country being led by comedians, a country that has a child rights act and still wants to legalise underage marriage! Is it not enough that grown and fully matured women suffer in the hand of these so-called "men"? Matured women who know when to stop talking and how to please men, are killed daily by domestic violence. Must children be added to the equation too? I am a Muslim, and I will NEVER associate this as a tradition in my religion. What kind of sick demented men do we have in the world now? It is not enough to ruin ladies of age beyond repair, must they now start taking the little girls one after the other?

Every parent that consents to under-age marriage should be either stoned to death or burnt at a stake. Here, I'm not trying to judge anybody but I have a right to my views and opinions. How can any mother, who conceived in her womb for 9 long months, gave birth in excruciating pain, loved, cared for and nurtured the baby for years, decide to trade her daughter for money? I understand the fact that poverty is becoming very rampant in our nation, but it should never come to selling your little girl into slavery and suffering, and probably death. The health issues that arise from young girls becoming exposed to sexual activities early, and conceiving is numerous. Most of these girls die in the process, and the ones that don't die, may be miserable or depressed for life. Let's not even talk about the large numbers that get VVF (VesicoVaginal Fistula) for life!

Nujood Ali was 9 when she was forced to marry a 30-smth year old man in her home country, Yemen and according to her story, the marriage contract was signed by her father with the believe that the marriage wouldn't be consummated until she was 18 after a dowry of about 740dollars was paid by her husband. The day after the contract was signed however, she was taken to her husband's house on the outskirts of town where she went through physical and psychological torture. No matter how much she screamed for help that night, or how much she tried to run, he caught her and did as he pleased: rape a 9 year old girl unconscious. During the day, Nujood was a slave to her mother in-law, and beaten by her husband who forced himself on her at night. All Nujood knew at such tender age was pain, fear, and more pain! At a point which I think the young girl reasoned "enough was enough", she escaped during a brief visit to her family house, got a cab, and asked to be taken to a courthouse where she pleaded to see a judge and requested for a divorce (after her parents had made it clear that she belonged to her husband now and they 'couldn't' help her). The Judge, understanding her plight, instead granted her an annulment to prevent the marriage contract from being redrawn. Her human rights lawyer also helped "compensate" her husband with the sum 200Dollars as demanded by the Sharia law. She was the first child-bride to have taken such bold step in the country, and a number of girls started asking for divorces themselves. Nujood was recognised as Glamor magazine's woman of the year in 2008, along with other reputable women. She also wrote her biography titled I am Nujood, 10 and Divorced.

Let's imagine Nujood had not taken the bold step she did then, would she not be more damaged by now or probably dead? She would have no dream of a future, and a happy life! How many abused "grown women" in Nigeria can be brave enough to leave the source of abuse? How many of them can actually request to get a divorce? I still maintain that 'society be damned!'. No-one will judge you in the grave after the abuse kills you. Is it not better to be alive and judged? We really need to educate our girls/women. Abuse is NOT a normal part of matrimony. We need to realise that weak and selfish men abuse their women but it is best to be strong and leave! Do not fool yourself into thinking they change. They never change! Please do yourself a favour and get out of the abusive relationship/marriage. The rest can sort itself out later, but only after you take the bold step of protecting yourself. Nobody else matters but YOU!!!

Con amor

Tuesday, 27 August 2013


I wanted to write a post titled; 'Men you should NEVER settle down with', but I thought the title was too biased, afterall there are some types of women you should never pray to come across as well. Regardless of seeming biased though, I will still write about men today. The men that shaped my life into the design they saw fit.
Psychologists know what they mean when they suggest that some events mar or make us early in life, but I know for a fact that at any age, verbal abuse (no matter how small) can still scar you deep. I recognised mine quite early and I tried putting a stop to it, but unfortunately, the little damage done shaped me in a different way than I had intended.

I was just 19 years old when I met him and although it wasn't love at first sight, I loved him regardless. Junior is the last born of his well-to-do family, and he sure acted it! I loved him regardless of his flaws, and he accepted me with mine. The relationship moved so fast and we were quickly recognised as a "devote couple". I tried quite hard to be the perfect girlfriend, too hard now that I think of it (must have been the age). The fact that Junior always called me his "wife" must have also been a precursor to my attitude because I did everything to please him. When I wasn't in school, I was with him. I fed him daily, and basically took care of him. I had to keep him in check, and monitored his affairs. I helped him whichever way I could, all the while ignoring his apparent lack of respect for me. I kept telling myself that I loved him and love does not look for flaws afterall love endures. Quite early in the relationship, I tried telling myself I wasn't his errand girl even though I cooked for his friends, and did his bidding. I lost my virginity to him and made my body his, in the bid to please him. I gave, and never complained until he started being more aggressive. He never tried to hit me (he wouldn't have dared), but he somehow became aggressive in his words or maybe he had always been like that and I just hadn't seen it. 
I had experienced a near-death phase less than 6months into our relationship, and it seemed I came back as a different person who saw more clearly.
Junior kept using vulgar words at me. He kept making me look and feel stupid at every turn. He would call me a dullard in the presence of his friends and try to make it sound like a joke afterwards. He never even bothered to pretend like he respected my person in public. He would ask me if I was dumb just for trying to clarify issues with him and depending on his mood, he would ask if I was drunk or stupid when I asked questions. I mustn't forget the times he asked me if I was "sick upstairs". He never once encouraged me, but knew how to drop my morale; how to tell me "I couldn't do it". It seems like a blessing now that he never liked to comment on my beauty, because I fear I might have lost confidence in my own looks. He believed and trusted his "girlfriends" more than he did me, and when there was an issue with them, I was always to blame. On different occasions after sex, he commented on how I sounded like a bush baby in bed, and that statement made me very conscious of myself. Till this day, I don't bother making any noise in bed. Regardless of the fact that I had etiquette and speak better & fluent queen's english than he did, Junior knew how to make me doubt my own knowledge. Once, he drank so much and called me a slut, asking me how many guys I had fucked before him. That wasn't the most painful of his insults but it definitely stung and that was when i decided to stop keeping quiet. I was so used to sitting by, pretending everything was fine, and gulping as much bullshit as I was served that it wasn't easy getting back myself. Hey, I don't blame him! I grew up with a father who, although he loves me very much, is also part of the reason I tell myself I can't do anything right. A father that unknowingly insinuates that I'm useless and makes me cry by telling me I am the sole reason my mother is ageing faster than her age. 
Today, I have contemplated going for my masters but I'm scared I would fail and I give up on it before even applying; I have written a billion business proposals and thought about a trillion ways to make money, but i always find a way to tell myself 'I can't do it'. Today, I don't even know if I can take care of myself because I have been told so many times that I can't!. I barely make suggestions or comments on issues as I'm scared I might sound stupid. I'm afraid someone else is going to see me, and see that I'm a dullard or that I'm dumb. Till this day, I still avoid relationships because I dread sexual encounter. I have grown taking things to heart, believing, and telling myself "they were right", inhibiting my own progress; allowing them to design my life and my attitude!

Con amor

Sunday, 4 August 2013

Inside a Daddy's girl's head!

I was 'bout 8 when Papa brought her home. She looked so 'beautiful and classy' was the first thought that ran through my mind. She looked like those barbie dolls, but with the shinning black hair on her head. Her waist looks so small from my point of view and so did her entire body. She was so fair, I had to bite my tongue from asking if she was an albino. A boy in my class is almost white like the lady Papa is holding and we all called him 'Oyinbo pepe' until our class teacher taught us a new word to use for him- Albino. Papa came to me and held me close. He then whispered to me "Remember what we talked about last week, that I would give you a new mummy? Well that's your new mummy. Do you like her? Don't you think she looks beautiful?" I nodded as vigorously as my little head could allow and my father smiled. My 'new mummy' came over to join us and she gave me the brightest smile I had ever come across. I kept thinking in my head 'she looks so pretty'. "Hello Tinuke, your Daddy has told me so much about you. He said you're very brilliant", my new mummy was talking now. Her teeth looked just as perfect and white, and I imagined her as a dentist- I chuckled at that, and I guess that gave her the go ahead to continue. "I'm a good girl too, and your Daddy thinks we'll be best of friends. Will you let me be your friend?" She inquired and I simply nodded. I know I should be excited and happy at the prospect of having a mummy but I didn't have a good feeling about her. She was here to separate me from Papa! I just knew it!!
I have my own mummy, but I never met her. Papa tells me how amazing she was and how he loves her even in death and how I remind him so much of her! Yes, my real mummy died while birthing me. I have never had a mummy before, and I never had anyone except Papa. My friend Bolu, told me that her father married a new mummy for her and she doesn't get chocolates from her Daddy again. She said her Daddy stopped loving her when her new mummy started giving birth to babies. I continued to think about everything Bolu told me, and I started to get scared. Bolu thinks my new mummy may start beating me the way hers have started beating her. I was real scared! What if my new mummy starts giving Papa babies? How will I continue to be Papa's best friend? As young as I was, I knew I had to fight for Papa's love. I prayed to God not to give her babies that would compete my Daddy's love with me as Bolu's did.

On my 10th birthday, it seemed that my new mummy was the celebrant. She stole my spotlight, and she was the one sitting beside Papa all day. I was very angry at her, and I cried a lot that night. Already, everything seemed to have changed! My chocolate reserve had reduced drastically, and my food portion too had gone low. She hates me! She makes me do exercises every weekend. Then she went away for about a week, and I was happy. Only problem was, I didn't have Papa back to myself! He went out one day and brought her back with a baby. Oh my God! Bolu was right. Papa didn't stop playing with the baby, and they made it compulsory for me to play with her! Papa stopped buying me chocolates and sweets because mummy told him to, I hated her for taking my Daddy away from me.
11years have gone by, and I've spent 6years away from home. I'm graduating and Daddy is here, along with the family. I got over being Daddy's girl ages ago, and I think I grew up. I just don't think I ever found a way to forgive mummy, probably because I didn't understand her story. I did grow up to be a petite lady, thanks to the weekend exercises, and I have a kid brother now. Today though, I was surprised by how much effort mummy put in planning me a graduation party. She was so proud of me, that my friends all commented that I'm lucky. She walked with her head up high, and beamed with joy. She looks older now, but as stunning as ever and she made sure everything was perfect for my party. My younger ones stood by the sidelines unsure if to join the party or not, and this broke my heart. Could I have been so wrong? Could I have been blinded by my love for Daddy that I didn't realise the kids needed love as well? Could I have wanted to hold on to my Daddy so much that I failed to see what a jewel my mummy is?
I took my younger ones into the party and fed them cakes, kissed them heartily and took pictures with them. Then I went in search of mummy, and awarded her with a big hug. A silent plea, I guess but it felt good. I may have had an amazing mother I never knew, but Daddy brought me an awesome mummy that day 13years ago and if I could turn back time, I would have enjoyed every minute with her. I shouldn't have listened to Bolu so much, she was wrong. My new mummy is the best!...

Con amor

Monday, 29 July 2013

My life; My rules!

I find myself wanting to find release....

It doesn't matter if I'm at work, in bed, cooking, driving, or in a meeting. I find that lately, I've been having the urge to just curl up and cry. Usually, I stop myself in the process and its good for awhile but then it starts all over again after a few hours. What brought about this behaviour, I don't know. All I know is I feel more vulnerable at the moment than I've felt my entire life, and its not a very swell feeling.

Remember what they say about strong people being the ones that cry the most? Well, that's not the case with me. I DON'T cry! This statement is more of a resolution rather than a confession. Don't get me wrong please: I do feel pain, and I feel all them emotional hurts probably more than anyone I know personally. I just don't succumb to expressing those pains and hurts in the usual way some people do. I tend to hold my pain in and bite down (hard!) on my hurts, in a way that won't make me show any emotion on the exterior. On the interior though, is a different case. I am a vessel full of pain, sorrow, frustration, hurts, and tears deep within.

I've experienced more pain than I bargained for and although I still haven't found someone who has had the intensity or amount of pain as I have, I've learnt that the most damaged of us are the ones who know how well and best to hide behind their pains. After years of hiding behind my wall, and holding negative (pain) emotions at bay, You could probably break my bone now and i still wouldn't shed a tear (*you had better put on some ear plugs just in case though*), so u can imagine how I feel when I suddenly feel like I want to cry (as in, really cry!) every other minute. I consider myself a strong lady; with flaws, but strong nonetheless. I'm currently having an episode of my crisis and I can't stop typing this post in my car, parked on the side of the road. My strength isn't determined by the amount of tears I've cried (as there haven't been much of that), but by the amount of resolve I've applied to anything I'm passionate about. I don't cry because I told myself at a young age that crying was bad for me. Crying makes me weak, and frustrated and open to more hurts. I don't cry because I made a decision and stuck to it, not because I don't feel the pain. I can feel the pain nagging my left arm at the moment, piercing at my vessels and muscles like a knife jabbing through me from the inside. I can barely raise the hand, but it won't stop me from putting down these words nor will it stop me from getting myself home in one piece.

I can feel it all and I feel pain even more, but it won't bring me to my knees nor will it make me shed a tear. I DO NOT cry, because I am Eyitayo and it's my rules....

Con amor

Monday, 1 July 2013

My Perennial Bachelor (Part B)

After a year and half of being together, Gbenga was yet to propose to me. Although he had talked about marriage with me on many occasions, I expected him to have made it more official by now. I haven't even met any of his family members, I was a few months away from my 30th birthday, and I was beyond frantic. When I shared my concern with him, he simply told me not to worry and promised that we would take a trip over a weekend he was free to meet them. I wasn't totally cool with his response but decided to remain calm. A man of 44 years should get married soon. He couldn't be playing games, could he?
On my 30th birthday, Gbenga spoilt me rotten! He pampered me, and made me feel like a queen. To say he spoilt me is an understatement such that my fear of being a spinster was forgotten. He made me feel on top of the world, and I was the envy of all. The spell was on for a couple more months until realisation dawned once again that we hadn't done anything official. At this point, my feminine hormones were screaming "CAUTION!" So, I decided to take drastic measures to nudge him in the right direction. The first step I took, was put an end to all sexual/physical relationship between us. Gbenga was mad when I did this, and it gave me hope... "My plan was gonna work afterall". I then insisted on knowing his family, and he said we weren't ready. Weren't ready? I was ready when we started dating 2years ago!! No matter how much I tried to make him see reason, Gbenga wouldn't budge so I stopped talking to him (with the hope that he would miss me and be forced to bend to my will). To my shock and disappointment however, Gbenga didn't seem bothered. Infact, he neither called nor texted. I was really hurt by this, because I had thought he loved me. I was determined though- not to beg him as I knew what I wanted. My parents had started pestering me to bring him home, but Gbenga had always been busy with something any time we agreed to go see them.
About 3weeks later, I went to a fashion show (like we used to do together) and I saw him. He was looking as charming and smart as ever and I was half way to hug him when I noticed he wasn't alone. The girl hanging possessively by his side (like I used to) with an angelic smile couldn't be more than 23 or 24 years. I had no idea how I got home safe that day, but I remember the tears I cried all night. 2years! 2 precious years of my life with a man that moved on in 3weeks. Where do i start from? What would I tell the world? How do I explain this to my family? The shame... What would people say? Its amidst these jumbled thoughts, confusion and heartache that I decided to quit my job and change location. There was simply too much memories here and I just needed a clean break. I moved to another city, to try and pick up whatever I could of the pieces he left behind.

I left family and friends to run as far as I could from Gbenga, his memories and the hurts, but he still resides in my heart. I have tried to hate him but I can't; I can't even bring myself to think ill of him. I love him too much, and I miss him so so much...

Con amor

Friday, 21 June 2013

My Perennial Bachelor

"Mr. Perennial Bachelor
---> This guy’s well-mannered, smart, attractive, witty, successful, and his kisses melt you like ice cream in July. You can’t believe that some woman haven’t walked him down the aisle long ago. Even if you approach him with caution, his charm and persistence probably will win you over. Then just when you start considering whether to take his name or hyphenate, he’ll peel out of the relationship faster than a NASCAR driver leaving skid marks on your heart.
How he’ll lure you in: Ask about his perpetual bachelorhood, and he’ll tell you he just hasn’t found Mrs. Right yet. The unspoken suggestion? You could be her. But dating Mr. Perennial Bachelor is a fool’s journey because there is no right woman and never will be. “Women always think, ‘I’ll be the one,’”  “But if no one has been right, you probably won’t be either.” 
Spot him before you’re hooked: He doesn’t introduce you to his friends or family, which means he’s in no hurry to fully integrate you into his life. But the biggest giveaway is that his last significant relationship was back in college and every relationship since has lasted only a few months at most. Around the time you’re expecting your relationship to shift into serious, he’s putting it in reverse. “If a man hasn’t gotten married by the time he’s 50, he’s probably not going to.""

... That's the kind of man I met a few months ago. At first sight, he was charming, sweet, and had sugar-coated tongue. I later found out that he was successful, and about 14years older than I am. He played his cards well and executed his seduction with ease, so that I was way into him by the 2nd month of meeting him.
I keep saying I'm smart, and No man could deceive me but as my mother always say, "No one can be smarter than someone going out of his way to deceive him". All the vibes I received from this man's body language were all screaming 'positive'.
I am a 28yr old lady, and I'm obviously worried about marriage. In the past, I have gone out with 'douche-bags', jerks, gold diggers (not that I have any gold to be dug, but I have a good job and I end up taking care of their needs), liars, and cheats. I'm fast approaching the age where I'll start being regarded a 'spinster' in my family, and I was scared out of my mind. My fear, on the other hand, made me stagnant on a spot with the fear of going into pointless relationships and heartbreaks. Besides, it seemed like my admirers (aka toasters) reduced as i got older (i.e cross over from the age of 26 years and still single), so I'm not having much option or luck in the relationship department. It was at the point where I was about to give up on men, marriage and love altogether that I met Gbenga. Gbenga, like most older men, showed me how a true gentleman was expected to behave. He taught me that love existed in the heart of real men, and showed it to me. We had taken the relationship so fast and serious that everyone of our friends had begun to assume we would walk down the aisle. Gbenga spoiled me with expensive gifts and money from an early stage into the relationship. I was a little bothered initially, until my friends told me that he was just "investing in me". He was the real deal; rich, handsome, and loving?... I was in the clouds. The different occasions when I asked him about his single status, he gave a sweet perfect response- "I remained single because I was waiting for you." It is only natural that we start having sexual relations as we kept getting deeper, and he wasn't the "kinky lover" nor was he very demanding in bed. Everything was simply perfect! I couldn't believe my luck; after years of hurts and worthless relationships, the most amazing man just dropped on my laps and he's crazy about me. 

(to be continued)

Con amor

Thursday, 13 June 2013

Perspectivez ...

I stare outside, seeing nothing.
The sky is a beauty to behold, but I see not its beauty tonight.
There are no stars out this night... Or is it "this morning"?
The absence of the moon also makes the sky look so gloomy.
I stare and get engulfed, not in its beauty, but in the misery it portrays.
The dark depths of the clouds reel me in and I feel like they're trying to share their secrets.
Every night, i had always admired the sky and I call them "nature's most beautiful gifts".
Tonight though, I see something else.
Tonight, I just stare...
Patiently waiting for something to happen
Finally, and as if by a miracle, something was formed in the night cloud.
I could barely see it, and had I not been concentrating hard, would have missed it.
I paid closer attention and it felt like I could see farther into the sky.
It was getting darker, stranger and it felt like a whole new world...
It was then I saw myself, or does she just look awfully a lot like me?..
I saw my life through another's eyes..
I saw how little I was, and how happy I was with all the love showered on me...
I saw how I grew a little older, maybe 5 or 6, and how the light in my eyes gradually dimmed...
I saw my mother, doing all she could to protect her little girl...
I saw myself older at the age of 10, when there was no longer smiles on my lips and the laughter in my heart had long died...
I saw the moments my mother stayed awake by my side just to make sure I was comfortable...
I saw the way I told my father as an 11year old, that I never wanted to celebrate another birthday again. I had no idea I may have hurt him with that statement...
I saw my futile attempts to be like other kids, and I saw me loosing myself deeper into misery with each failed attempt (and there was many)...
I saw how I worked hard at trying to please my father, just to get that pat on the head...
I recall the moment I gave up on my ability to work hard for "the pat"...
I saw how I was pushed into a state of depression when compared to my sister...
I saw just how much my sister adored me, and try to be like me...
I saw how hostile I was to myself and everyone around me, keeping them at arms length...
I remember the day I vowed to never shed a tear again, after showing "weakness" for being in pains...
I saw how I became untrusting from a young age...
I saw the young girl that prayed daily for the pains to stop...
I saw the bleakness in my eyes when I concluded that the Lord had forsaken me...
I saw the moment I gave up on hope, and almost prayed for death...
I remember giving up on love, and thinking I had no future...
I saw what a terrible friend I was, uncaring and self-centred...
I saw the day I shed my first real tear...
I relived the moment a ray of light entered my heart...
I smiled at the day I was given a second chance, and a reason to hope for the future...
I saw the confusion in my eyes, because I was late in making "future plans"...
I saw the way my father came to the rescue, silently acknowledging his understanding and love for me...
I see how I've continued trying to please my father, just to hear him say he is "proud" of me...
I see the way I have been trying so hard to feel like I felt at that tender age of 3; with a radiant smile on my lips, the brightest light in my eyes, and laughter in my heart...
I see how I've been desperately trying to have back the love that was showered on me years ago, which I refused due to sadness...
I see me struggling to leave behind misery and sadness to no avail...
I see me not knowing which direction to go...
I see me getting frustrated because nothing works out the way I intend...
I realise just how irresponsible I've been, caught up in my webb of childishness...
I see me trying it all the wrong ways...

... I opened my eyes to the bright sun on my face. It's morning already, and I have no idea how to keep myself busy today... I get ready for the unknown with one thought running through my mind, "Thank God I was dreaming".

Con amor

Friday, 5 April 2013


I previously wrote a post titled truths and confessions, and I told the truth about my health but today, I want to share what motivates me with you all. I recently celebrated my 24th birthday (congrats to me!), and although I planned for the day based on "reality", I was somewhat optimistic. I wanted to have a day to treasure forever, and yet I couldn't have it with the one I truly wanted it with nor could I have it as I really wanted. The day turned out to be amazing, and fun with my sister being as sweet as always. My point is that "Sickle Cell disease did not stop me from having fun, living, dreaming, and doing all I wanted to do! It didn't prevent me from having a tremendous birthday!, and I don't think it should stop anyone". I know who I am, and it is different from what I am: I am Eyitayo, and a Sickle cell patient!

I have and will never hide from myself, nor the reality of my health. Knowing the truth and accepting it, has made me a rare gem of my kind!... I repeat; I AM Eyitayo Oladejo and I have the Sickle Cell Disease, but I am not my disease! It may have made me a stronger person in attitude, but it doesn't define me!
Since I was about 6yrs of age and knew why I was special/treated differently, I vowed to never let anyone worry about me. I made a resolution to myself that day that I would be strong for myself, my family, and my friends. I promised I would never be weak or show signs of weakness. I resolved that I would one day be an inspiration to people with sickle cell disease (SCD). And although I was scared deep down as a child, I grew up acting like I could stand any tribulations; like I wasn't scared of needles and pain!
I am not scared of what the future holds. On the contrary, I am frightened of what the present dishes me. So far, it hasn't dished me anything beyond my capacity to handle and for that, I am grateful. I remain alive till this day, filled with hope, love, fulfilment, and promise of a happy long life!
In the world, thousands of people are born with the SCD each year, and we loose hundreds to the disease daily. Some have become less privileged; some have become invalids; some have become ill with long lasting damages; and some have lost hope due to lack of proper care!
I am a very blessed and lucky girl indeed. Although I have scaled through some turbulences in life and I haven't had it totally easy, I am alive and healthy! The first thing I say each morning when I wake up is, "Thank you Lord""Alhamdulillah"!. I have had my tears, but I still get up stronger, and give the world the best damned smile it has ever seen! I have a family that knows the importance of good health, and spends financially/emotionally to make sure I am healthy. I am lucky because I have been through things that could have claimed my life, or left me in a way I wasn't born (invalid), but here I am today. 24 years, of happiness; 24years of good health; 24years of being a gorgeous Sickle cell patient and still smiling!
I have been blessed in every way, and I have been given the liberty of proclaiming God as my Lord and Saviour, Alhamdulillah. I have been given second and third chances to really be an inspiration to Sickle cell patients and I pray that they all receive the grace of hope as I have, Insha Allah!

... I proclaim today that I am not my disease, and neither are you!

Con amor

Monday, 18 March 2013


.....As I lay there, with my eyes tightly shut, I stopped hearing their grunts, It seemed I had totally blocked out their laughter. I could no longer watch, I just felt like dying... "End this ordeal", I said in a silent prayer to God as more tears washed down my face. If anyone had told me this would be happening to me, I would have said it a lie, but here I am, with 5 men taking their turns to have sexual satisfaction at my expense... At the expense of my pain, at the expense of my tears, at the expense of my bitterness... How could I ever get this memory off? How could I be sane again?...
For a brief moment again, I became aware of the pain igniting like fire between my thighs... The one on me currently was smiling down at me, saying things I didn't hear... He had slapped me to get my attention. The pain is getting unbearable, and I started praying that I don't survive this torture when he finally made a loud grunt and stood up. It was such a relief! Painful, but still a relief... I could feel the liquid gushing between my thighs and I knew I was bleeding even before I heard one of them say it. The fourth man was already naked and had jumped on me... He didn't listen to his friend that noticed the blood, or maybe he just didn't care, I don't know.. I can't start to analyse how human minds work now... I felt a more powerful pain as he slid into me... Pain like I've never felt before... I knew for sure I was going to die before this was over... I had to die! He seemed to be more brutal than his friends, but what do I know?.. I couldn't even think... All that comes to mind amidst the pain and tears, is my family... I wonder how they would cope if (when) they knew the pain I was in before I died... How would my mother feel when they saw my corpse, violated... Would they even see my corpse?... I was hanging by the thread and knew not what plans these brutal men had in stock for my lifeless body... Yes, lifeless! That's an appropriate way to describe how I currently feel... I can barely move a muscle, and it feels like my soul has separated from my body.... I could swear I can see what was being done to me from outside my body...."Lord please if you're up there, make this stop!", I seem to scream in my head... No sound came from my lips, I was beyond shocked, and my pain had gone beyond tears... I felt invisible, like I was floating in the atmosphere and no one could see me. I just lay there and allowed them to do as they please; hoping, praying, that this ordeal would end soon... Praying they should get their satisfaction in a hurry and let me be... Hoping the Lord would hear my prayers and call me to him to rest! 

I had screamed so much, it felt like I had no voice anymore... I fought with all my strength, but I'm merely a 53kg lady against five grown men. At first, I had hoped that someone would hear me; I hoped somebody would come to rescue me; I actually believed a miraculous intervention would occur; but I was wrong! They beat me badly, although that didn't deter me from fighting. Then they held me down, tore my clothes, and started taking turns on me. The biggest man of them seemed like the ring leader and he went first. I had no idea how long he was on me for, but it took forever. I screamed, I cried, I pleaded with them to no avail. They just laughed, and touched me all over. I tried biting him but was given a slap that cut my lip. By the time he was finally done, I couldn't stop crying. I coiled up, trying to cover myself with the assumption that it was over. All I felt was shame; the shame of being tainted and I felt like being swallowed by the ground just imagining how I would ever face the world! Unfortunately, that became the least of my problems when the second man spread my legs again and laid on me. I kicked and struggled as hard as my body could allow, having just realised their intention to gang rape me! My efforts were futile, as they only beat me more and brutal this time. By the time the second man was done, I had stopped fighting... I lost every will to fight. I couldn't even sob anymore, and I was done pleading. I didn't make any sound, all I could was use what energy I had left to ignore the pain I was going through! I felt shallow, like my soul had been ripped from my body...

It seemed like I had been unconscious as I didn't even know when the fourth man got up, and the fifth laid on me... By the time I came to, the fifth man was just about done and he collapsed on me... I drifted off, sliding between consciousness and unconsciousness. I was bruised, and I felt dead. The feeling I didn't recognise actually seemed like peace. I felt some strange feeling of being at peace in my soul. I just didn't know if I was at peace with myself, my rapists, death or God!. I just continued to slide into unconsciousness thinking God had forsaken me! I prayed and waited for him to do something, for him to perform a miracle, to save me from this pain!

I unconsciously registered the men trying to get dressed and saying things...I may have smelt panic, but my senses seemed dead...The sound I heard was like a siren, but how could I be sure?... I could barely feel myself breath... Is that my heart?, or is someone playing a drum far away?... I was totally violated, but not dead! I realised this in my pool of blood and felt a twinge of hope.......
                                              ................. Blacks out......................

Con amor

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Forgiveness: the sensible choice...

Forgiveness is a very vital aspect of life. Either in relationships, friendships, or in our day to day activities. We should always learn to forgive regardless of how we have been erred after all, to err is human and to forgive is divine!

"Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil".........

Fear not, I'm not about to start quoting the Bible or Quran to give u endless passages and reasons why you should forgive. I'll leave that choice to you, while hoping you make the sensible one!
Forgiveness actually begins and ends with you, not the wrong doer. You have to be willing to accept and come to terms with whatever it is you're mad about. Then, and only then can you open up your heart to forgive. Anger is one of the most destructive emotions human beings have, alongside love, jealousy, obsession, and hatred. Often times, anger affects our physical well being and health in various ways and makes us totally unreasonable, if not destructive.
Angry people are more vulnerable to sin and so, the sooner you forgive, the sooner you let go and that way, you can avoid your anger redirecting into depression, sullenness, self-pity or snide remarks that may end up hurting more people around you than you intend! To avoid these, try not to let the sun set on your anger and try to resolve whatever upsets you before going to bed.
Health wise, anger has been said to trigger heart attacks (which eventually may lead to stroke), accelerate coagulation (most likely in the vessel) that causes pain, increases the total cholesterol of the body(increases the bad LDL cholesterol more than the good HDL cholesterol), and may lead to death as we are often not in control of ourselves while angry.

Everyone have their moments, and the holy books don't preach against anger although it preaches against the sin we may commit while angry. Jesus Christ had moments of anger, and it is in the holy books. Only his anger did not stop him from trying to win souls, spreading the gospel, healing his people, and being a nice gentle soul. In fact, God himself (our Almighty God, who is without sin), is said to have gotten angry a few times in the bible. The Hebrew word for anger appears approximately 455 times in the Old Testament, and of these, 375 times it refers to the anger of God. Yet, he forgives us... Who are we, to hold a person in debt of their mistakes (especially when we know the possible risks our anger can trigger)!

Anger is a natural feeling but should never control you nor should you be hasty in expressing it, especially in love and relationships, forgiveness should be paramount. We weren't there when Romeo and Juliet were in love, but I know it all couldn't have been all rosy before they both decided to die for love! I'm sure once or twice, they would have hurt each other and still forgave each other. Jack and Rose obviously didn't know each other long enough before the titanic sunk, or they would have had more disagreements than one with their difference in lifestyles. All they knew well though, was their hearts and the love that bound them together on that ship.
Forgiveness is a choice, a healthy choice; the way love is. You can choose to remain in love and give your all, forgive, move on, and live in peace and happiness; or you can remain angry, and throw away the good the Lord has blessed you with via your anger. Making mistakes is a natural part of life, but you should never allow yourself to be held back by them nor should you allow another pay for their mistakes forever!

Please, for the sake of this special month we are in, and for your own well-being, I implore you to forgive whoever has trespassed against you or wronged in any way, as the Lord himself forgives you of your sins!

Con amor

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

A Quarter Of Our World..... 5

Three days after I got home, I noticed that there was a difference in the house. As if someone was there while I was at the hospital.. I ran up the stairs as much as my now-big-tummy could take me. I was only 20 weeks pregnant but it seemed my baby was trying to punish me for the months I tried covering it. When I got to Jide's room, I didn't notice anything at first but when I looked at his wardrobe closely, I noticed he must have dropped by while I was away to pack a bag. His overnight bag was missing and so were some of his clothes. I didn't know whether to be relieved or sad, but a deep part of me was glad. I called his aunt to tell her what I noticed the next morning and she also informed me she got news that Jide was in Nigeria!
Nigeria? How? When? Why? What if he went to see my parents? What would my father say? What was I to do? Stay back here or go to Nigeria to meet my husband! I was confused, and had no idea what to do. I didn't decide, but I had no choice than to stay back. My pregnancy was having complications, and I had to stay on series of bed rest, and fluids. At 28 weeks however, my mother called me and asked what was going on. They had seen my husband in Nigeria and he hadn't even come to the house. They also heard he had been home for about 2 months now. I then told my mother that my pregnancy was not safe, and my husband and I had been having issues. She said my father was very unhappy about the whole thing and that I should come home as soon as possible to stop the rumours flying around town. I assured her I would be back in 2 weeks. I needed time to pack things I needed and to shop for my baby boy on the way!

When I got to Nigeria, I had to hire a cab and lodge into an hotel. It wasn't wise, but I dared not go home with my bags. I went to visit my parents the next morning and my father as good as ignored me. I pulled my mother aside and summarised what had been going on to her. She told me she was surprised by Jide's actions, but she knew someone that went through worse and her husband turned around with prayers and they now live happily. She then continued by telling me that if the lady had not had patience and be very prayerful, she would have lost her husband. She said she would take me to a church in the morning to see a man of God. I went back to my hotel room suddenly having a very bad feeling. I prayed that night, that nothing should happen to my baby. The next day, I went home and my mum took me to the church. The man of God prayed, said it was the devil that was at work, and asked me to fast for 21 days. I had to tell him I couldn't fast; my pregnancy was scaring me and I couldn't afford to be dehydrated even for a day! My mum shut me up and assured the pastor that I would fast and be very prayerful.

Two weeks went by, and we had been fasting (my mother and I) but I was getting weak and I voiced out my concern. I went to our family hospital, and stopped for a few items on my way back. That was were I came face to face with the object of my fear... Jide was there, with a beautiful woman hanging by his side (not that I give a care about her!) And staring at me like he could strangle me. He strode to me and asked what I was doing in the country. I told him I couldn't have the child alone in the United States, and I had a right to be where my husband was. As soon as the words left my mouth though, I knew I had made a grave mistake. Right in public there, in front of over 30 people, 'his woman', and God; he gave me a resounding slap that made me loose my balance. I was weak, tired, and quite heavy so I just sat on the floor there silently nursing my wounds. A few people came to my rescue and helped me up, some even verbally expressed their displeasure towards Jide's behaviour but I heard none of it. All I could think of was "If the man I call my husband could disrespect me as such in public, then the best thing for me is a divorce". I went back home to tell my parents what had happened. My father would not even listen to reason, he only said over his dead body would I get a divorce and shame him! My mother said I had not been patient and prayerful enough and that she would take be back to the pastor. Only my sister, who was in the conversation via conference call supported my decision.. We went back to the pastor, my mother and I, and he preached about the wrongness of a divorce. He went ahead to tell me that my sin if I divorced my husband would be greater than the sin of that who had committed suicide!. He said to complete the 21 days fast and return for "deliverance".

It's been less than a week, and I'm currently hanging by the thread. I went to my husband's family to plead with them (on my mum's advice and urge), at least to let me give birth my child in their home (as my father cares more about his image than his daughter), I begged n begged that Jide could marry as many wives as he wanted as long as he left me in peace with my child bearing his name. It was as if I had asked for the impossible the way Jide and his mother erupted. His mother kept screaming at me about not wanting her son to be happy with the woman he had loved for years. I wasn't even sure I heard her right, as Jide was determined to manually abort my almost-eight months pregnancy. None of his family members did anything but watch, none of them even tried to stop him. They all seemed to have reached an understanding that what he was doing was the best. His mother did not even cast any pitiful look on me even with the fact that I was carrying her 1st grandson, she just kept screaming about how long Jide has had to wait to marry his girlfriend of 10 years (I haven't even known him that long!). Jide stopped beating me long enough to go get something, and I didn't want to find out what it was. I hurried up, as fast as I could manage, in pains and I knew I may not make it out of the house alive. I dialled the last number on my phone and told my sister I would be dead in less than 2 minutes in Jide's family house. Just as I opened the door to rush out, something hard and painful struck my back and that was the last I remembered.
I woke up about 2 hours ago, yet to see my family, but in enough pain to know the doctors are fighting for my life. I'm being taken into the theatre any moment now to have a caesarian section. My baby is barely 8 months, and I have to bring him out prematurely so he doesn't die due to the impact when I fell unconscious. I have a displaced lumbar disc in my lower spine and will need surgery, that is, if i survive. The doctors have been battling to save my life due to the internal bleeding I suffered. My knee cap will have to be replaced as it is broken, and worst of all, I am weak, too weak to bear all this; too weak to believe I will survive; too weak to even pray for strength!
My family was allowed in to see me, and I saw tears in my father's eyes. I kissed my sister goodbye and gave her a brave smile. My mother prayed for me while trying to remain strong for her family, and my father just stared at me saying sorry with his eyes (almost as if he didn't believe what was going on). I smiled at them, before being rolled into the theatre. I do not blame my parents, and I certainly don't blame my father. They loved me and provided the best for me while growing up. They continued instilling discipline in me, and always wanted the best for me. Who I blame is myself, I should have taken more time to know who I wanted to marry; I should have suspected something was amiss when his attitude towards me changed. I should have stood my ground and let my father know I was old enough to make wise decisions on my own; I should have divorced him when I had the chance, when he first hit me; I should have stayed back in US, at least until I had my baby before coming to risk our lives here.... And as I said the last prayer for my baby to survive, I blanked out staring at the bright light on the ceiling.....

Con amor

A Quarter Of Our World..... 4

Jide did not return home that night, nor did he return the day after. In fact, he stayed away for 2 whole weeks and I was frantic! I could not have an abortion, and I was scared of what he may do when (IF) he returned. Some part of me still hoped and prayed that he would change his mind; that I could reason with him. I went to work the 1st week after my husband left home, partly because I needed some distraction and because I had to get medical attention at the hospital. I didn't bother hiding my bulge anymore and it was a relief. I called my parents, to share my news with them and they were ecstatic. Although, they were hurt that I delayed telling them the news for so long, and I had to lie to my parents that I needed to be out of the danger period before being sure it was going to stay. They asked after my husband, but I didn't (more like couldn't) tell them about the problems we've been having nor could I voice out my fears. As a proper yoruba girl, I was brought up never to air out my dirty laundry so it felt natural not to tell anyone about my predicament.

Days went by without the appearance of my husband, and I had to voice out concern. I took the 2nd week off work and searched for him everywhere I could think. I went to his friends' places, then called some his colleagues. I also went to his place of work, where they told me he had taken a 3week vacation. I then decided to go to Maryland to see his aunt (the one I reported Jide to in part2), to at least let her in on what was going on. Besides, I was fast approaching a dead end on the search for my husband and this was the last place I could think of in the United States. I got to Aunty Ola's house before 2pm that day, and I had to stay outside to await her return. Who knows, maybe she already knew what was going on; maybe Jide already called; maybe she knew exactly where he was; maybe she could help with my predicament and talk to him on my behalf. That was all I could think of while waiting for her return, and by evening, I was feeling very optimistic. Yes, I have a job and yes, i'm doing very well. Taking care of a baby alone, isn't the worst thing that could happen to a mother and I have to admit that there are a few times when I actually imagine how my life would be living alone with my child. Its usually a very beautiful life in my head, but I scrap the idea as soon as it comes. I just can't do that to my family. What would my father say? He would be so disappointed, and the shame it would bring him? I can't even start to think of that. I remember what my mother told me the night before I got married to Jide. "Ireti, you're about to be a married woman o, and I know you're a good girl. Act as you have seen me act in your father's house. Yes we have arguments, but nobody ever knows when its bad between us. I have never reported your father to any of my family, nor have I ever reported him to his. People are wicked, so try not to talk about your life to friends. You kuku know I, your mother do not have friends. Don't come back to this house with your luggage after tomorrow o, Ireti. Don't let our enemies laugh at us, you need to make your marriage work forever. Thank God you also know your father is not a very easy man to deal with, but I have managed so far by remembering the daughter of whom I am. You have to remember who you are at all times where you're going. The marriage institution isn't all rosy, most women are actually suffering in their homes but the quality of a good woman and wife is that whom do not allow anyone see the affairs of her home and smiles to the public that she is married to the best man alive. Whatever you choose to do or any actions you decide to take in Jide's house, you should do it while considering the effect on your family especially your father. A word is enough for the wise, and I wish you happiness and lots of children in your marriage". Those words she said, and the night she said them are the things that have been playing frequently in my head since we got to the United States. In fact they're the only reason I have stayed in my marriage this long, the only reason why I'm standing in front of another woman's matrimonial home to seek her help.

By 8pm, I had filled Aunt Ola in on what had been going on in my marriage for 5months now. She looked aghast, and I'm sure the look on her face when I told her about Jide's proposed abortion, was genuine shock. "WHAT?" She said, looking furious. "Jide asked you to get an abortion? What is his problem? Does he not know it's God's gift? Look at your tummy, this baby is past aborting! Where is he? Is he at home? I have to see him. I can't just call him, he needs some common sense instilled in him, and he needs it right away!". I could only smile as she concluded her statement and started fuming. I knew she was the best person to come to. A woman that understood what it felt like to be scorned by husband's family for years without a baby. As soon as she gave birth, her kids have been pampered and given the best of everything. Yes, she was definitely the best person to tell... I thought to myself as I told her that her nephew had been away from home for over a week. It was obvious she hadn't heard from him judging by the look on her face. I proceeded by telling her how and where I've looked, and that I had no idea where else to look. She then asked if I had called his mother in Nigeria, because she knew Jide couldn't do without calling his mum for more than 3days. Yes, he loves her that much and I also thought about it but I told her I couldn't. His mother practically and technically hates me! The woman doesn't let go of any opportunity to blame me if something isn't going her way. Before our marriage, she adored me (or so I thought), and she would jest with me. As soon as we said "I do" however, she suddenly took a dislike for me and she absolutely hated seeing my face. At first, I thought she was acting that way cause she felt I had taken her place in her son's life, so I didn't think much of it. I simply doubled my effort at trying to please her, but nothing worked. The moment Jide told her he had won the lottery and were moving to U.S was the day I was sure I had made an enemy out of my mother in-law. Ever since, she had tormented me and I have learnt to block her out of my head. My heart flipped with fear as Aunt Ola picked up her phone to call my mother in-law (her voice alone does worse to me). I listened to the one-sided conversation and I knew my mother in-law had started her bad talks about me again, but I didn't mind because it was obvious she had spoken with Jide though she had no idea where he was.

Con amor

Thursday, 14 February 2013

Love? Yes, please!

I read a story on the internet about a couple that were so in love and the husband usually gives his wife 46 bouquets, and a note that reads "my love for you grows", on every valentine's day. Her husband died, leaving her alone with 4 kids, but on the next valentine's day, she received her flowers (46 bouquets) and a note from her husband. She thought it must have been a mistake and called the florist who then told her that her husband had prepaid for many years and made them promise to continue sending her bouquets every valentine's Day with his note attached. Oh, the new note read "my love for you is eternal"
Can you imagine having that kind of love in real life, these days? A love that is beyond physical and that goes on even after death? A love that is thoughtful and sweet? People like me would want to fall and stay in love!!

Moving on, I surfed the net (precisely facebook) and I saw a cute picture. It was a colourful cake that looks like it may be delicious! On it, were the words "Can I Pamper you Tomorrow?" (The picture was posted yesterday, 13th february). This is one of the most thoughtful and sweet things I've seen during any valentine's celebration. The fact that he or she thought of doing something for his/her partner before the much awaited St Valentine's day makes the gesture sweet. Also, he/she actually asked if his/her partner wanted to be pampered on Valentine's day, thereby leaving room for "option". He/She didn't just assume that the partner would be free to be pampered. Thirdly, the word he/she used on the cake is one I love "pamper", he/she didn't say "can I take care of you?" As most people (men) do (as if you can't take care of yourself without their help *eyesrolling*).. When I hear the word "pamper", what comes to mind is; waking up to breakfast in bed, a special home cooked meal for your partner that you've obviously put a lot of effort in, and a personal massage to ease your partner's tension/stress (doesn't matter if you aint that good). Whether it was a man or a lady that gave the cake doesn't matter in the end, as they will both feel a certain thrill at being so thoughtful to each other.

See? That's proof that I'm actually not anti-love, I'm actually a very huge fan of lovers (:D ). I'm also not an anti-valentine's day person, I just hate what we've turned love into. When I expressed what I considered to mean "pamper", take note that everything I said there are expressions of love that can be done any day of the year and as many times as you desire. I guess it can be done on St Valentine's day as well, since its also a day like any other (and to me, simply 14th of february) but gestures of love like this should NOT ONLY be expressed on Valentine's. I wrote an article this day last year, emphasising that if a man can not show me love on a regular day, then he shouldn't bother showing extra love on St. Valentine's day and I meant it!: Read here-

Love, is a beautiful thing, whether single or not and the thought of knowing you've loved, been loved, and are still in love has to be the best feeling in the world (of course, it also means you aint so bad and someone somewhere can tolerate you... Hehehehe). Seriously though, love is worth being celebrated: I just don't believe it should be celebrated once a year because a man died on the 14th day in february ages ago (as if that is something to be celebrating), but it should be celebrated at every given chance and opportunity! Love should be expressed in different gestures daily (those little gestures count more than diamonds or 100K gold once in a year), and NOT just on St. Valentine's Day!!!
P.S:- Try not to make single people (like me) feel like jumping into the ocean to escape all the annoyances flying about! Thank you, for being so considerate (in advance) and have a thoughtful day with your lover.

Cuando te digo la belleza del amor, es porque me ha encantado!

Con amor