THE YEAR ENDS WITH A PARTY

Okay. Another year has just ended and I cannot help reminiscing about the things that marked my end of year. I mean aside from my usual time with family which has always been a way to end my year for as long as I remember.  What an eventful year 2013 had been.

The end of the year reminded me of the Road Safety Corps  campaign.

“The ember months are here again

              Drive carefully...”

These words have gradually become familiar.  The first time I they made sense to me I ran to my mother to find out what ‘ember months” meant. After her usual referral to the dictionary and not getting the definition there, she explained that it meant all the months ending with the letters MBER, that is, September to December. After trying in vain to understand why special care should be taken in those months, I had to go back to listen to her explanation of how it was essential for one to keep safe towards the end of the year while entertaining the hope that the coming year would meet one in good state, physically and otherwise.

As the innocence of childhood wore off, I too began to take care. The familiarity of those words did not commonize (is that a word?) its meaning. After all, who was the one that did not want to see the New Year? The community I grew up in liked life. That alone meant that majority of the people wanted to live life to the fullest.

Before I became solely responsible financially for my basic needs, the thought of getting new things was the major source of my excitement.  Well, even though time has passed and the girl I was has become a woman, I still made sure I got at least something new for myself, it did not have to be expensive, my end of year gift to me only had to be newly acquired. There have been years that I have been really broke and had even scolded myself for this practice but that was me.

One of my unlike towards the end of year was traffic; human and vehicular. The roads were usually crowded, the markets were too full and scammers were always on the prowl. I also hated the fact that there were always too many commitments. It did not matter to me if these commitments were parties or even weddings after all there was always very little time to enjoy them.

I remember trying to attend one of such parties towards the end of last year- a Sunday party- which meant I had to do church first. I felt I was already late by the time church was done as I had to make a ninety minutes journey to the venue. Anyway, I began my journey and silently prayed that I still remembered the route. That prayer was not answered, at least not in the way I wanted because after making one of my turns I noticed I could not see the next turn. So I decided to use my option B driving method which is to move in any way towards your perceived direction until you get to a familiar place and if not, seek help. This option implied I would get to the party later but I kept up with it. Somehow I hated to stop to ask for direction. I only resorted to it when I cannot view anything familiar or a direction sign.

I was in this state when I ran into them, or drove to the point where they had the stoppers. Some group of youths that had put lots of objects on the road to serve as stoppers. I had to stop. Irritation was what could best describe my stare as they explained to me that they were trying to raise fund for the upcoming end of year street carnival. The first thing that came to my mind was, “What is my business?”

You are right, if you thought I did not give any money to them but it got me thinking. Whose responsibility is it to sponsor any street carnival? Was raising funds for the carnival enough reason to block any road or better still harass road users?

The end of year comes with plenty definitely.  I always knew that so I did not have to be surprised when I saw this carving on a head just before the New Year. 

The youth was a coming in from the city and was on his village. My reaction was only a chuckle and a smile. I did not want to incur the youth’s wrath. As I wondered where and when I missed the trend I could not help imagining how those in the village would react on seeing him. Would they emulate him, silently wish they had it on or mock him?

I alighted at my bus stop and could not wait to share this hair style with my folks. I was glad I was able to steal a picture from him. So at home we had our laughs in between food and drinks in front of the television that no one was watching. Our own kind of party.

While we wait for 2014’s parties, keep faith!

THE FIRST MAN IN MY LIFE.

The day had started as my usual work day- full of hectic commitments, meeting, running up and down the stairways in a bid to meet with deadlines.

In between my hectic schedule I tried to find the time every hour to view my private phone, in case there was a call missed or message received.

Then the unexpected call came through. At first it was missed and since it was family I decided to return it as soon as it was convenient. It was then I heard the words I did not want to hear. The words that every time I had looked at him, I had dreaded the day I would hear them.

Yes I had thought of it earlier; not once but several times. Ever since we had struggled with his health seven years earlier, the thoughts had refused to go.

The first man in my life was awesome. That is how best I can describe him. He had the best fighting spirit I knew and made sure we inculcated that. I cannot be certain of the first time I met him but from the stories that revolved around me I knew it must have been soon after my entrance into the world. The bond we formed was instant. They used to say that if he traveled without tell us (my brother and I) his destination, we would fall sick and would not get better until we had heard from him.

In him I saw the picture of everything that was perfect.  I used to think that he was the handsomest man that ever was. Who would not? His set of teeth was white and neatly arranged, and he had a way with his smile.

He gave up himself to ensure that we had a lot more than the basic necessities to go through life as well as the best values any living soul could have. As I grew up, I began to see a few flaws in my all-perfect man. Because I loved him so I began to pray for him. I had found out that he had little spirituality in him so did not believe in going to church for weekly worship. Somehow I adored weekly worship and wanted this love to be caught by him too. He would hear no argument about it so I took it to the Lord in prayer. And the Lord gave answer some nine years ago; he made a full and total commitment to the ways of the Lord. Like everything he held dear, he clung to his new found faith like it was all that mattered. After surviving the test that was put before him, he was more than ready to put aside anything or anyone that would stand in the way of his faith.

But then the trials left him broken and very disillusioned. It was like the beauty of life was being snatched from him. But he stayed strong and faced life with all of the strength that was left in him.

I loved to sing his praises. It was easy for someone in love. I would tell my friends what he had survived and with every story I found strength and pride. If anyone dare to complain I would tell them that they did not know the real him. That did not mean that we did not have our fights, because we did as my ideal man was also stubborn. They were times the fights were even very frequent but beneath each I could see love. I always hoped he did. I did not talk to him about it because I did not want to either upset or weaken him.

Two days after I received the call, I was told an acquaintance that he was the one who got me my matriculation number at the university and he stared. Yes, the first man in my life was committed like that.

I stared at down at his lifeless remains and tried to be strong; for my mother, for my brother, for my sisters and for him. But as I went into the quiet of my bathroom I let the tears flow many times and many days afterward.

“He ought to have known that this would happen”, I told myself.

He knew that even if he could always count on me, I was not as strong as he was.

The tears have not stopped flowing and I know they will not just yet; but each time they flow I say to him, “My daddy, you deserve more than just a few tears”

My Prayer? That he rests in the Lord’s bosom.

Still Keeping Faith.

ANOTHER BORING CONVERSATION?

 I stared at him with ease.  I was no more the little girl growing up in the quiet Ughelli so it was easy. Besides I was sitting directly opposite him. I tried to put my feelings into words- Cockiness, Confidence, Victorious, Strong, Anger, and Pity. All these flowed through me as he spoke. 

“Hmmn! This Indian”, I thought to myself. “Just who did he think he was?”

Time truly has passed. We live in a country where anyone in white skin was glorified and treated with too much respect. I call it backward colonialism. I could not understand why someone would rather than settle for the old colonial rule where our roads were all tarred with sidewalks decide to glorify another mortal who would disrespect you and ill treat you for nothing. 

My thoughts were formed early. Maybe because I still topped my class in spite of the presence of white boy Richard or because I was used to seeing Kelvin, a mixed blood, hawking tomatoes when my family eventually moved to Warri, I simply did not see anything extra ordinary in being white that would allow for first class treatment especially on my Nigerian soil.

I do believe in respect. Anyone; white or black, deserved this. But when the Indian wanted to take me for a ride I had to bare my fangs.

It reminded me of the encounter I had with one of his kind in the penultimate month where I had, in the line of work, gone to demand money owed. The man, feeling superior, had refused to see me initially. Imagine the debtor; but I blame am? The manner of people who give them rights in the street gave him the audacity. When he saw I was having none of that, he came down and after all the talk he felt sorry that this small girl (my apologies to my stature) was talking to him like that. 

Now back to this one before me. He said my words sent him to his sick bed and that if he dies I will be held responsible for his death. At that point I had to control myself and not laugh out loud. My small size must really be deceiving them.

In case you are wondering what the bone of contention is, it was nothing out of a routine as it applies to landlord and tenants in this city. 

I decided to shift from the contentious angle that he was in. So I asked him to invest in Nigeria. He began to curse. He ended by saying he will never do that even if a gun was put on his head. With that word I decided it was time to hit the road and push this man out of my sight. I said my goodbyes and I was off. As I journeyed down the road I could not help but think that I would never even in neighbouring Benin Republic and act like I was a Don.

What effrontery does this man have to speak all my ears heard? 

My Conclusion, we need a shift of values we must move to begin appreciating our own even if it’s the man by the junction who owns little but makes an honest living!

Keep faith.

COLOURS, COLOURS, MORE COLOURS.

The first time I fell in love with law was in my primary school days. There was this Pears advert- Yes the same old baby Pears- where a little girl had taken her mother to a kiddies court for denying "baby and her the joy of Pears". The face of the kid-judge struck on my young head as he/she asked the accused mother whether she was guilty or not. The idea of a court grew with me from then onwards. I would insist that at least one of my Christmas outfit was a corporate fit. Together with my parents' support I tailored my studies towards satisfying my life dreams.

I love law. I remember when I prepared to go into university and I told my friends that I had no other course preference except for law. Some of them wondered what I would do if I was not offer law in the university while others felt that with the passage of years I would change my mind if I was not admitted.

Inspite of my love for law, I knew very little about it. But it did not bother me. I knew my higher institution would fix that for me. So off to school I went.

The first thing I enjoyed about law was the colour. It was mainly dark and sombre. Usually with a tincture of white but that that did take it away from being sombre. Swaying in these colours did not excite me as much as the comments friends from other departments made in admiration. The distinction these colours gave was also awesome. However all these became boring to look at with time. Call it familiarity or what you will but by the time I was leaving the university the colours were nothing but dark to me.

I still love law. I brag about this to anyone who would ask. I remember my Call. The hall had been decorated with black and white ribbons and balloons looking so 'lawyerly' but when the commentary was being run, the commentator described the hall as beautifully decorated in those colours. New meaning definitely. I had never ascribed that adjective to those colours.

Then practice began. Pride was in those colours. One day something different happened. I met a lawyer who was angry at a female colleague who dared to wear a red-coloured camisole underneath her collaret. Even if was not visible to the court, the lawyer in question, who was male by the way, queried the effrontery that made our female counterpart disregard our revered colours.

When I left that scene, I did not think much of until I had cause to be in another court, a superior court according to the law. Proceedings that day were long as usual and I had to kill time somehow.  I started looking for a familiar face to chat with and soon found one. I was chatting away when somehow my eyes fell beneath the chairs and I saw socks in different colours. I was amused and surprised all at once.

“They do it these days”. My friend answered to my - whatever happened to our revered colours question. I quickly clicked on my phone's camera and snapped away. As I did that I that I thought to myself, we definitely need more colours of balloons and ribbons.

Keep faith.