I stare into space, with my hand below my chin, and a smile stamped on my lips, finally!
We make choices everyday of our lives, food, clothes, shoes, soaps, facial scrubs, chocolates, face powders, friends, after-shaves, enemies ( yes dear, ENEMIES), name it! Each choice we make has an effect, either there and then or it takes a little nap and comes around to affect you when you least expect it.
One choice we make blindly may just be the most important ever.
Am no economist or analyst, neither am I a counselor or any blah-blah of that such, but I know good things when I see them, and I absolutely believe no one should settle for less. Yes, nothing less than good, except we have no other choice, but we always have options, don't we?!!
You buy a face powder and reaching home, you find out the guy at the cosmetics shop cheated you. You were busy staring at some ugly eye lashes and didn't notice its actually Maye Kay instead of Mary Kay. Now that isn't your choice, but you have two options here. 1)-Smash the compact against the wall. OR 2)- Go right back to the guy's shop, stare at him coldly and demand your money back, after smashing it of course. Yeah, you aren't buying it any more.
Make your choice! (What if you never noticed and used it everyday? Acne, hypo and hyper pigmentation of course! Who knows, a modeling agency may have been eyeing you and you just messed up.. Or an admirer who would have done anything for you cos your face looks smooth is somewhere watching you?)
You collect your clothes from the tailor and you try it on in front of your wall length mirror thinking you will be magically transformed. Taaraaa! What you see is a hideously ugly you, courtesy of your new dress. You have two options here. 1)- Give out the dress to someone who needs it, or to a fashion blind person. OR 2)- Get that huge guy who has a crush on you and attack the tailor's shop and force him to make amends.
Make your choice! (What if you happened to be suffering from fashion-blindness for a little while and didn't notice? And what if that frenemy of yours notices and had fun snickering anytime you wore it? She just got one on you!)
You stroll into a fast food joint and the waitress ignores you because she's prettier than you but has to accept what life doled her. You have two options here. 1)- Eye her, yes o, the nigerian eyeing and call her in a cold confident voice. OR, 2)- Shout at her for been so mean and walk out on her.
Make your choice! (OMG!! What if you were oblivious of her mean attitude and she wastes your time deliberately so you would be late and get a piece from your boss?!)
You drop by at Ceddi Plaza to get something nice from Wrangler's only to see your fiance helping some random girl to choose some new clothes. You have been begging him to escort you oo, he refused! You have two options. No, for this, you have three options. 1)- Give him a hard slap and walk away, after ending the relationship. OR, 2)- Pretend you didn't see him and walk away, and later on accept his apologies,she just may be his sister's father's cousin you know. OR, 3)- Give him a hard punch and make life hell for him, and marry his boss later on.
Make your choice! ( What if you didn't find out he was cheating and you marry him without him not been cured?!)
Lots of options, make your choice wisely!
Saturday 31 March 2012
One Terrible Experience!
This happened exactly ten days ago.. Here goes my story..
I nearly had a heart attack today. Am sure you are wondering why, its a long story sweethearts. When I came from school, around 4pm, I decided not to sleep. I went to the courtyard to snap some pictures(am a photo freak), to avoid the call of nature.
My sisters came out as I was busy taking shots and I asked where they were going to. I decided to follow them( mota dadi!), so I could get myself chocolates.
Just as we were about leaving the mall, I noticed some soldiers going after some people. Yes oo, right inside the mall! One of them was actually holding a guy's collar and leading him to the back of the shops. Na only God wey know the kind of wahala that guy enter sha!
My body was shaking vigorously.. The shop attendants and customers were all tense. Customers were trying to leave the mall before the soldiers engage in a cross-fire or something!
Just as we were saying 'pheewww' because we managed to leave the mall as quickly as we could, drivers coming from the opposite side warned us to all go back; as the soldiers were engaged in a cross-fire with some people!
From frying-pan to fire! We had to reverse and make a U-turn right on the bridge, yes right in the middle of a very narrow bridge..
Then more soldiers came from all angles, driving at top speed on our Lagos Bridge, making drivers to quickly make way for them or risk harassment.
Had it been I was a hypertensive patient, something terrible might have happened on the 21st Of March..
May Allah bring peace to our darling Yerwa, amin!
I nearly had a heart attack today. Am sure you are wondering why, its a long story sweethearts. When I came from school, around 4pm, I decided not to sleep. I went to the courtyard to snap some pictures(am a photo freak), to avoid the call of nature.
My sisters came out as I was busy taking shots and I asked where they were going to. I decided to follow them( mota dadi!), so I could get myself chocolates.
Just as we were about leaving the mall, I noticed some soldiers going after some people. Yes oo, right inside the mall! One of them was actually holding a guy's collar and leading him to the back of the shops. Na only God wey know the kind of wahala that guy enter sha!
My body was shaking vigorously.. The shop attendants and customers were all tense. Customers were trying to leave the mall before the soldiers engage in a cross-fire or something!
Just as we were saying 'pheewww' because we managed to leave the mall as quickly as we could, drivers coming from the opposite side warned us to all go back; as the soldiers were engaged in a cross-fire with some people!
From frying-pan to fire! We had to reverse and make a U-turn right on the bridge, yes right in the middle of a very narrow bridge..
Then more soldiers came from all angles, driving at top speed on our Lagos Bridge, making drivers to quickly make way for them or risk harassment.
Had it been I was a hypertensive patient, something terrible might have happened on the 21st Of March..
May Allah bring peace to our darling Yerwa, amin!
Tuesday 20 March 2012
I Sit Still
I sit still,
Gazing into the dark quiet night,
Wondering what's happening to the vibrant me,
Wishing I was still that young and carefree girl,
Dancing wildly in the rain.
I miss,
The days I run shouting in d house,
I crave,
The local alawa in maiduguri.
I smile,
At the memories of Tom chasing Jerry.
I wish,
I could run up and hug the stranger at the door, not caring about the venom in his heart.
Alas,
Wishes aren't horses,
And memories could never be relived.
In d still dark night,
A smile spreads on my lips,
And I know I have to reach out into the future,
And grab what is meant for me..
Monday 19 March 2012
Whether An Armed Robber Or A Thief In Government!
It begins with stealing meat from their mother's cooking pot..
Then stealing pens and pencils from their colleagues while in primary school..
And small amounts of money their mothers keep on the dining table and the fridge..
Then it moves on to a higher level..
They have graduated..
To stealing money from school bags.. And ladies' handbags too..
Shoplifting from kiosks and supermarkets ..
And then, they start opening cars, stealing handbags left..
And any valuables found..
Snatching handbags from people passing..
Picking pockets in the mosques, markets and ceremonies..
If they know wealthy and influential people or have rich parents, somehow, they will graduate from the university with some form of degree;
after stealing answers and bribing thief-Lecturers..
They then become office rats..
Devising ways of extorting small amounts of money and collaborating with other bigger thieves, their bosses...
Until they become big men..
Chairmen, director-generals, permanent secretaries, governors, and some even make it to the presidency..
Then, poor mother government will be milked dry!!
However,
If their parents and relatives are poor, they wouldn't have a chance to go to tertiary institutions.
They will become armed robbers..
Killing and looting anywhere they can..
With no shame or sense of remorse..
Help stop the seed of theft from growing into a tree. Monitor your child. Teach him no evil..
Then stealing pens and pencils from their colleagues while in primary school..
And small amounts of money their mothers keep on the dining table and the fridge..
Then it moves on to a higher level..
They have graduated..
To stealing money from school bags.. And ladies' handbags too..
Shoplifting from kiosks and supermarkets ..
And then, they start opening cars, stealing handbags left..
And any valuables found..
Snatching handbags from people passing..
Picking pockets in the mosques, markets and ceremonies..
If they know wealthy and influential people or have rich parents, somehow, they will graduate from the university with some form of degree;
after stealing answers and bribing thief-Lecturers..
They then become office rats..
Devising ways of extorting small amounts of money and collaborating with other bigger thieves, their bosses...
Until they become big men..
Chairmen, director-generals, permanent secretaries, governors, and some even make it to the presidency..
Then, poor mother government will be milked dry!!
However,
If their parents and relatives are poor, they wouldn't have a chance to go to tertiary institutions.
They will become armed robbers..
Killing and looting anywhere they can..
With no shame or sense of remorse..
Help stop the seed of theft from growing into a tree. Monitor your child. Teach him no evil..
From The Eyes Of GrandMa Jasmine!
We go through life, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour and day by day. They just roll past us, without us really knowing they are slipping away. Lo and behold, old age catches up with those of us blessed with longevity, we then reflect on our past.
I reflect...
As a young woman, I had so much more than most people around me. Lots of money, beauty, education from the most prestigious schools in the world; all the luxuries defined as 'for the elite'.
As a young kanuri female pilot, I was a sort of icon to so many people. My parents' friends adored me. My educated relatives made me a role model for their growing kids. My not so educated relatives sent their kids to school so they would also fly a plane someday. My parents were the proudest of all, flaunting me wherever they go; their beautiful Captain Jasmine Mustapha.
I was dedicated to my work, so I wouldn't let them down. Sometimes, I skipped eating during office breaks so I'd get enough time to finish a chapter after I say my prayers. I always impressed my bosses and colleagues with my ideas and strategies.
Whilst working hard, I forgot the essence of friendship. I kept away from social activities, except those my parents' made absolutely compulsory on me. I was an introvert and found the young people trying to befriend me annoying. I had no friends, only admirers. During my leisure times, I 'hung out' with my laptop and other gadgets.
I met my husband in the oddest of ways. He was a passenger on a plane I flew when I was barely twenty three years. He had arrived the airport earlier than necessary and sat reading. I was walking to the plane to make sure everything was in order when my attention caught the cover of the book he was reading. It was a book I had been searching for and I just had to ask him a few questions.
Unknown to me, he was attracted by my knowledge of the subject and also by my
beauty. He devised a way of meeting me and did so two months later. I grudgingly became friends with him, even though we shared so much in common.
He was a young medical doctor from the north, with an interest in flying too. He patiently withstood all my attitudes until I finally gave in, surrendering to a friendship which later became love.
Being good young Muslims, we wasted no time in letting our parents in on our plans. Our marriage was a simple affair, strictly following the teachings of islam.
My husband, Doctor Muzammil Mubarak taught me the essence of friendship. We shared everything and had no secrets. Meal times were always our sacred hours. No matter the distance, we always managed to share our meal times. We worked hard in our various fields and became a spectacular couple, envy of all.
Our first set of twins came when I was twenty seven, Muzammil was thirty then. We named them Hafsa and Hafiz, a girl and a boy. They were the joy of my family and his family. They were our bundle of happiness. My gynecologist warned that I was prone to having complications. So, I had to take precautions not to become pregnant. We were contented with the two we had, so we didn't grieve too much about the news.
Life was as rosy as it could ever be. We lived peacefully and happily with our two kids. Our parents and siblings were our closest counterparts as we hardly mingled with Muzammil's few friends. As for me, I had managed to send away all my childhood friends a long time ago,as they couldn't bear my introvert nature.
I never knew everybody needed friends until tragedy struck five years after the birth of the twins and nine years into our marriage. Muzammil and the kids were involved in a terrible motor accident. We lost the kids,while my husband survived with a fracture of the arm.
Life became sorrowful for us. Our kids were our happiness. I couldn't offer Muzammil much consolation, neither could he offer me. We both were engrossed in our individual grief. Our families couldn't offer us all the support we needed,as they weren't in the same town with us. Besides,they too were grieving. We were all alone.
That was our roughest year. We nearly lost each other as we fought to survive. I stayed at home and neglected my work. Muzammil stayed out late so he could avoid my gloomy face. He kept blaming himself for driving carelessly.
If not for our friendly neighbors, a yoruba couple, the Olugbenga family, our marriage would have hit the rocks.
They noticed how grief-struck we were. At first,we tried to push them away, as we usually did. But they stood their ground. They sent us home made delicacies, invited us to family outings and visited us regularly. Their efforts were so helpful.
We noticed how we neglected each other. We gradually became friends again and shared our grief. Our love blossomed. The Olugbengas were indeed a miracle to our family. They brought Muzammil and I back together. For that, we became great friends with them, and were eternally grateful for their friendship.
Three years after we lost the twins, I became pregnant again. I was prone to complications already and at thirty five, age wasn't on my side. I was keenly monitored by my doctors. With the help of the Almighty, I gave birth to yet another set of twins. We named them, Hafiza and Hafsa, as both were females.
I went back to work, after being away for almost four years. All my colleagues were surprised at the change in me. I was as hard working as ever, but with a new attitude. I was much happier and friendlier. I became a friend to everyone. I had a smile for everyone.
Our family became happier than we ever were. Muzammil too had changed. We were each other's treasure.
Today, thirty years after the birth of my twin girls, I sit in the midst of my kids and my grandchildren, as well as the Olugbenga grandchildren. My husband by my side, I told them my story, our story.
I reflect...
As a young woman, I had so much more than most people around me. Lots of money, beauty, education from the most prestigious schools in the world; all the luxuries defined as 'for the elite'.
As a young kanuri female pilot, I was a sort of icon to so many people. My parents' friends adored me. My educated relatives made me a role model for their growing kids. My not so educated relatives sent their kids to school so they would also fly a plane someday. My parents were the proudest of all, flaunting me wherever they go; their beautiful Captain Jasmine Mustapha.
I was dedicated to my work, so I wouldn't let them down. Sometimes, I skipped eating during office breaks so I'd get enough time to finish a chapter after I say my prayers. I always impressed my bosses and colleagues with my ideas and strategies.
Whilst working hard, I forgot the essence of friendship. I kept away from social activities, except those my parents' made absolutely compulsory on me. I was an introvert and found the young people trying to befriend me annoying. I had no friends, only admirers. During my leisure times, I 'hung out' with my laptop and other gadgets.
I met my husband in the oddest of ways. He was a passenger on a plane I flew when I was barely twenty three years. He had arrived the airport earlier than necessary and sat reading. I was walking to the plane to make sure everything was in order when my attention caught the cover of the book he was reading. It was a book I had been searching for and I just had to ask him a few questions.
Unknown to me, he was attracted by my knowledge of the subject and also by my
beauty. He devised a way of meeting me and did so two months later. I grudgingly became friends with him, even though we shared so much in common.
He was a young medical doctor from the north, with an interest in flying too. He patiently withstood all my attitudes until I finally gave in, surrendering to a friendship which later became love.
Being good young Muslims, we wasted no time in letting our parents in on our plans. Our marriage was a simple affair, strictly following the teachings of islam.
My husband, Doctor Muzammil Mubarak taught me the essence of friendship. We shared everything and had no secrets. Meal times were always our sacred hours. No matter the distance, we always managed to share our meal times. We worked hard in our various fields and became a spectacular couple, envy of all.
Our first set of twins came when I was twenty seven, Muzammil was thirty then. We named them Hafsa and Hafiz, a girl and a boy. They were the joy of my family and his family. They were our bundle of happiness. My gynecologist warned that I was prone to having complications. So, I had to take precautions not to become pregnant. We were contented with the two we had, so we didn't grieve too much about the news.
Life was as rosy as it could ever be. We lived peacefully and happily with our two kids. Our parents and siblings were our closest counterparts as we hardly mingled with Muzammil's few friends. As for me, I had managed to send away all my childhood friends a long time ago,as they couldn't bear my introvert nature.
I never knew everybody needed friends until tragedy struck five years after the birth of the twins and nine years into our marriage. Muzammil and the kids were involved in a terrible motor accident. We lost the kids,while my husband survived with a fracture of the arm.
Life became sorrowful for us. Our kids were our happiness. I couldn't offer Muzammil much consolation, neither could he offer me. We both were engrossed in our individual grief. Our families couldn't offer us all the support we needed,as they weren't in the same town with us. Besides,they too were grieving. We were all alone.
That was our roughest year. We nearly lost each other as we fought to survive. I stayed at home and neglected my work. Muzammil stayed out late so he could avoid my gloomy face. He kept blaming himself for driving carelessly.
If not for our friendly neighbors, a yoruba couple, the Olugbenga family, our marriage would have hit the rocks.
They noticed how grief-struck we were. At first,we tried to push them away, as we usually did. But they stood their ground. They sent us home made delicacies, invited us to family outings and visited us regularly. Their efforts were so helpful.
We noticed how we neglected each other. We gradually became friends again and shared our grief. Our love blossomed. The Olugbengas were indeed a miracle to our family. They brought Muzammil and I back together. For that, we became great friends with them, and were eternally grateful for their friendship.
Three years after we lost the twins, I became pregnant again. I was prone to complications already and at thirty five, age wasn't on my side. I was keenly monitored by my doctors. With the help of the Almighty, I gave birth to yet another set of twins. We named them, Hafiza and Hafsa, as both were females.
I went back to work, after being away for almost four years. All my colleagues were surprised at the change in me. I was as hard working as ever, but with a new attitude. I was much happier and friendlier. I became a friend to everyone. I had a smile for everyone.
Our family became happier than we ever were. Muzammil too had changed. We were each other's treasure.
Today, thirty years after the birth of my twin girls, I sit in the midst of my kids and my grandchildren, as well as the Olugbenga grandchildren. My husband by my side, I told them my story, our story.
Sunday 18 March 2012
Am finally ON!
Starting this blogspot was pretty hectic! All thanks to not having a system nearby and poor network. Maid City for you!
Sha, I don arrive.. lol!
I love writing. Anything that comes to my mind. The mind of a tired-will-soon-graduate medical student. I too dey complain. No mind me!
Enjoy my write-ups and drop comments o!
Enjoy jaare!
Sha, I don arrive.. lol!
I love writing. Anything that comes to my mind. The mind of a tired-will-soon-graduate medical student. I too dey complain. No mind me!
Enjoy my write-ups and drop comments o!
Enjoy jaare!
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