ghost in the shell

‘Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.’

Psalm 139: 23-24

Yet, I stay here still. I should leave... just walk away... but as I'm unsure of myself, my soul remains bound to its shell; confined. Am I only free to expand myself within boundaries that have been created? In truth all things change so perhaps it is my efforts to stay the same that have limited me. Perhaps that is why a love that I had craved so much was simply unable to break down my walls and complete me.

Sometimes I wished I had not dreamed this dream so hard... perhaps then I would not have felt so lost when Reverie became reality. Till today, I have no idea why I stood silent, like a dumb mute, with no answers to his gestures. My ghost whispers contemptuously ‘ghost-hacked humans are so pathetic, it's a shame’. I can only sigh in agreement as I tell out my soul.

All I want to do now is pretend it was just a simulated experience. False, like a dream. Yet it happened. My fantasy was real. My ghost whispers sadly ‘we weep for the blood of a bird, but not for the blood of a fish. Blessed are those with a voice’. I cannot weep because I do not know how I lost mine, yet I bleed.

I dare not dream anymore. My voice is gone. My actions seem to echo those of a coward. But I tried. I swear I tried... so much so that even distance could not come between us. My ghost whispers mockingly ‘no matter how far a jackass travels, it will never return a horse’. My thoughts shift suddenly to Italy. Alone in Milan with the lure of speed as my only friend. Life raced by me that September weekend but somehow it failed to take my hopes with it.

Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.
Reverie.

Today, again, he is close by. However, today is the first time in a long time, that I have chosen not to reach out. I do so, not to punish him but myself; should he not notice. Perhaps this will finally prove to me that when he looks at me, he sees in me only golem; an absence of form yet to be shaped from mud. Yet do I not already know this to be untrue? Simply because he helped fix my fragmented form. He stopped my heart's demise and then reconstructed my being using the clays of hope on the river banks of my tears. Happily, I morphed. I became the child of a dream. I laugh as I look up to the heavens, not in wonderment but with a certainty that ‘life perpetuates itself through diversity and this includes the ability to sacrifice itself when necessary’. Yet when I look within, inside my Section 9, I have no idea of how to cope with a such a loss. Major.

Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.
Aemaeth.

Perhaps I am the unknown puppet master that has been pulling my own strings; forcing myself to remember… how he pulled me close… his kiss… the times he made love to me. What of my feelings for the future?... were they just mere trick modes? This thought alone cuts me; causing a solitary sob to escape from me mid-flight. I begin to plummet into a cloud of despair. I am bleeding more now but still I choose to go... to forget. I fear that when next I hear him call my name my heart will soar again with childish joy and instinctively, I will turn and run back... I always have. Sometimes I wish my heart would turn to stone instead of being set alight by the blaze of his warmth. I look to the mirror; searching for my truth. My ghost whispers scornfully ‘when one’s face is distorted why you should blame the mirror? The mirror doesn’t help to enlighten but rather to confuse’. So I stop staring at myself and I rub my forehead; robbing it of truth.

Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.
Maeth.

Looking back, I realise that the universe conspired to keep us apart. What could be… cannot. The dream must die, for I choose to live. I finally understand. I hug my ghost as it whispers reassuringly ‘life and death come and go like marionettes dancing on a table. Once their strings are cut, they easily crumble’.

Good Shepherd, I know not of tomorrow so just for tonight all I dare ask is ‘let one walk alone, committing no sin, with few wishes, like elephants in the forest’. Please.

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lord of war

That should probably read 'Lords of Wars'... becos both don plenty pass o! Apologies for my absence but I’ve dealing with too many family issues these past weeks… it’s been really HARD keeping up appearances because I just want to explode… family politics is just the shits!… all this because everybody in the House of Agbada Daggers seems content to ‘just throw one's toys out of the pram’… honestly the nursery is in a right royal mess.

‘Always resort to your native tongue in times of anger. And in times of ecstasy’
Really?! Ok sha but na pidgin I go use because e be like say dis mosquito na malaria o!!!... *SMDH*... so make I yarn my tory now make una fit understand wetin dey do me abi?

‘The problem with gun runners going to war, is that there is no shortage of ammunition’
Na true talk be dat o! You see wen money miss road go make mouth… anoda one go make yeye yab am finish… I no even fit support am… who tell am say make he dey carry woman up and down.

Instead wey make chuku chuku pour water for fire he go dey side with cry baby… chuku chuku one no even vex me jare… everybody don know say na corner corner dat one dey do pass… me, I wan laugh wen I hear say he dey tell person make dem chop bullet everytime he wan land... na wa o! Abi him too wan come say all of us no sabi dat na woman wrapper dey do both of dem... from time!!!... mscheeww.

‘The first and most important rule of gunrunning is, never get shot with your own merchandise.’
Wen I see say wahala dey ground, I come say make I try talk small... sotai I talk say na condition dey make crayfish bend… say make we open eye for compound make arm robber no enter… dem no wan hear word… say make I carry go... Na so I come see say dem fit chook me too o!... so me sef I kuku comot for road jejely make dey no use my own join am…

‘They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."’
From nowhere dem come face gorimpka cry blood… say make he carry dey go… ehnnn? Becos why?! Why dem dey do like fool don pass garri? Please help me beg o!… I no even sabi how he enter wahala with dem… but e be like say na becos he no wan put eye dia.

Fear catch me no be small sha wen I hear dat one sha… mind tell me say make I rush go collect am cos e no even get money enter molue or machine or carbu carbu…

‘You know who's going to inherit the Earth? Arms dealers. Because everyone else is too busy killing each other. That's the secret to survival. Never go to war.’
Wen I reach, see am tanda dia, I tell say make he dey come. Na so moro moro come dey talk tory wey get many leg… dat pololo own no be de only one wey dey for ground... dat na kill and divide cry baby dey do since... say we just dey think say na fren fren dey do am but e be like say chuku chuku wan use style take garri from all our mouth… say im don see say serious wahala already dey for ground already... dat na why he no wan put fire for dis talk... he just dey try patch am.

I just siddon dey look am…I no even fit find mouth talk again… e be like say bad belle don plenty o!... today na today... abi na craze?!!!...*sighs*…

‘They say that I am the lord of war, but perhaps it is you.’
Make I talk true... before before na me dem dey face... as per, if trouble dey na my name dem go first call... dis time sha, I'm truly trying to help where I can even though I don't do stress... this time, ‘I am a man of peace; but when I speak, they are for war.’ Psalm 120:6-7... their irrational human behaviour is just beyond me... so much so, they ALL make me want to SCREAM!!!

Honestly, man pickin don tire!... for now I wash my hands of all the nonesense jare…

p.s
Good Shepherd abeg no vex but needs must… man no die, man no rotten. I know you understand.

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sex, lies &...3. chaos

This is a hilarious... while I 100% support Baba Suwe's beloved's mantra of ‘you gats to give, to receive’... I can't stop laughing at his response.

When I get up off the floor and the tears subside I might try and decode what Baba Suwe says here for the non yorubas... although most of the rest of this clip is sub-titled, the classic bits of his rant are not... which is great shame. Like I said I might try but as doing so will most likely cause me to collapse in a fit of laughter again, I can make no promises =)

What I will say is one has to respect him for how he sticks to his guns with respect to what he regards as a gross act of foreplay... I doubled over as he kept repeating similar words to those sang by Meatloaf... ‘I can do anything for love but I won't do that’... but his sentiments are an antonym to those of the song... LOL.

What Baba Suwe's girl wanted: Head.

Resulting chaos: Baba Suwe started ranting and raving; basically, saying ‘hell no’.... in the end there was no sex that night as both of them tried to make their respective points on the matter.

Moral: There is a line that one should never be forced to cross to please another.

Baba Suwe, let katakata burst jo... norring do you jare... I support your theory o! (not this particular one sha)... but I do support the idea behind it… one should never agree to do something, sexually, that makes one uncomfortable for another.

Speaking of chaos... I will take this opportunity to do ‘2 truths and 1 lie’... I was tagged by Doug. No, I will not be tagging any others or pasting the rules here... yes, I do know that it may be unwise to forego the rules or break the chain... & yes, I also understand that by purposely doing so, I may spurn the universe's wrath. Will it dash me a hard slap of ‘the butterfly effect’ for my disobedience?….who knows… but what I do know is that, for this, I am choosing not to give into any notion based on an unrealistic sensitive dependence. So I post this in the hope that the flapping wings of that butterfly that has just taken flight, halfway across the world, will not result in a tornado in my life; as these scenarios can themselves, already, be deemed as salacious or perhaps even scandalous. Thankfully, I can say they have been rarity in my life.

Case 1.
What a girl wanted: To suprise her boyfriend... so I once decided to turn up at his house, using the set of keys he had cut for me. I just wanted to see him as we had been going through another rough patch... basically, his complaint was we didn't see each other often enough. As I snuck out of my parents place and disappeared off their radar, I couldn't help smiling to myself... the thought never crossed my mind that he would be anything other than happy to see me.

Resulting chaos: I caught him in bed with another woman... I stayed there, silent, for what seemed like an age as my mind screamed ‘not again, not again’. When, I woke them up, he stupidly tried to convince me that it wasn’t what I was thinking… then the madness ensued.

Moral: Stop flogging a dead horse because a leopard can't change its spots... (& no the moral of the story for the guys isn't 'do not cut keys to your place for your girlfriend').

Case 2.
What a girl wanted: To get her groove on… so I drank a glass of double Remy Martin & Coke when I was out with a guy I was seeing… then I started sipping on a second glass but left it, unfinished, when it was time to leave the bar. This I did as I was coming to the end of the course of prescribed amphetamines which I had completely forgotten I had taken earlier that morning.

Resulting chaos: I passed out and woke up with the hangover from hell, in a hotel room. I was completely starkers; sporting only the vaguest flashbacks (but no real memory) of the night before.

Moral: Don’t EVER drink while taking drugs... prescribed or otherwise.

Case 3.
What a girl wanted: Love… even the tainted kind... so I let a married man slip his hand inside my bra as my friend drove. When we got to his place to drop him off, I wasted no time in jumping out of the car after he offered to take me home as I lived nearby. I followed him inside, upstairs and into the bedroom to get his car keys.

Resulting chaos: I had an affair with a married man and ended up becoming a home wrecker; he left her for me... only to break my heart later.

Moral: What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder (Mark 10:9).

Which is my lie?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*UPDATED on 07/02/2009*... specifically to hold off the two hell hounds at my heels (i.e. my dearest Afrobabe and the lovely Avartsy)… the answer is now below in inviso text:

Answer: Case 3 is the lie (truth is I told 2 truths followed by one lie… so I am not really a rule breaker afterall ;-P)

I never had any sort of an affair with Serb. I’ve never seen him since that night we dropped him off. I did hear that at the time he was trying to ‘cop a feel’, his loving wife had left for London to give birth to his 2nd child... *shakes head & sighs*... may that never be my portion.

I hope and pray that the only married man that I will ever follow into the bedroom will be mine. AMEN.

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mãe

Thinking of what to write as a tribute to you I realised that I had no idea what I could say that would express my love for you.

I wanted to write something that told you of how much I have valued your contribution to my life but nothing I thought of seemed fitting enough because words are insufficient to describe all that you have done for me.

I have watched you suffer through so much.
I have watched you sacrifice so much.
You did all this not because you had to but because you chose to for the sake of your children.
As I read Ephesians 6:10-20, I prayed that your spirit is forever fortified with the whole Armour of God.

I want you to know that your children are okay because of you.
I want you to know that I am okay because of you.
I pray that you are now able to do as it says in the bible when you turn to 1 Peter 5:7.
It says that you should ‘cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you.’

You are the mother that taught me early that great people sometimes fail but become great by acknowledging and learning from their failures. Most importantly I learnt from you that I should never let my failures get to me because I could remedy mistakes and shortcomings if I faced them head on with courage and compassion.

I grew up hearing directly from you about rights and wrongs. Like many daughters I grew up first seeking your approval, then trying to prove my independence. Now I am a little older, I realise the immense strength of character and humility you hold within you to put up with so much.

I can say whole heartedly that I am proud to be your daughter.
I can say I am truly blessed to be your child.

Today is your birthday.
Today I am jubilant with joy as I celebrate.
Today I sing the words of Psalm 95 as I give thanks to God for you.

‘O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.
Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms.
For the LORD is a great God, and a great King above all gods.
In his hand are the deep places of the earth: the strength of the hills is His also.
The sea is His, and He made it: and His hands formed the dry land.
O come, let us worship and bow down: let us kneel before the LORD our maker.’

When God thought of you as a Mother, it was a thought so rich, so deep, so divine and so full of soul; one that caused your beauty and power to be concieved.

As our mother you have shed our tears and feared our fears.
As our mother you have cared for our cares and laughed our laughs.
As our mother you have lived our joys and shared in all our hopes and dreams.

All that I am,
All that I hope to be,
I owe to you.

‘Happy 60th Birthday Mummy’.

p.s
Special thanks to Jaycee and Naapali. Albeit for different reasons... Hugs :-)

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loosing fate in faith

As a child I went to a boarding school. My school was in a small village… it was next to a church (and its graveyard)… both were surrounded by woodlands. This meant my school was isolated from all... especially boys which was just the way my father liked it.

I remember one Saturday night, we watched a film called ‘It’ ... for those who don't know, ‘It’ is a horror film about a sadistic balloon wielding clown... an adaptation of Stephen King's book of the same name. Anyway... the next day, I went with Aoife to collect my hymn book for church from a deserted school building… let me just say that I knew of many stories that seemed to suggest that all our buildings were supposedly haunted which is why I didn't go alone.

As I took my hymn book from the cubbyhole, I saw a red balloon fall from nowhere and drift to the ground… Aoife and I looked at each other… to us it was a warning that signalled the arrival of Pennywise… ‘It’… but neither of us were part of the Losers’ Club so there was no fighting ‘It’… the thought of the clown getting ready to marinate me as meat freaked me out so much so that I left my friend for dust and I ran for my life…

I don’t know how much adrenalin kicked in but it must have been a lot because by the time I stopped to catch my breath, I couldn't see Aoife behind me… as I was trying to figure out if she had fallen foul of some atrocity, her voice somehow pierced through the deafening sound of my racing heartbeat… just like the Doppler Effect from an ambulance siren, the shift in her pitched scream was clearly evident as she approached and she ran past me; heading straight to church. At this point I started laughing.

Looking back now I think our reaction was a reflection of our childish fears interpreted in a physical form… or was it? A sign is still a sign… maybe it was God telling me not to watch such films. To this day, I will not re-watch that film or read the book.

My first introduction to impending messages of doom was the bible. I think it was the story of the shepherd... soon to be prophet... called Moses. He saw a burning bush that would not be consumed. As he stood watching, he was told by God to go to the Pharaoh and tell him to set the Israelites free. (This Pharaoh is not Rameses I or II btw because evidence of the exodus was found in Tutankhamun’s tomb and he pre-dates both Kings... plus Rameses II lived to a ripe old age).

Anyway... the Pharaoh... lets call him the Pharaoh of Oppression... the Pharaoh of Oppression’s faith did not lie in the God of Israel... he worshipped the gods of Egypt. He continuously chose to ignore God’s words and caused his people to suffer through 9 plagues and then he condemn all the first born males to their fate… death… this was the 10th plague.

Now prophecies in the bible are not all bad… there is Joseph's ability to interpret dreams... Pharaoh's dreams... that foretold that seven years of abundance would be followed by seven years of famine.

However; despite the fact that I am mostly familiar with biblical and/ or historic figures (e.g. Joan of Arc) receiving messages in the form of emanations from the divine… I also know a little of traditional mythologies of yoruba gods. Such as Orunmila… the deity of destiny and prophecy who carried Ifa (the wisdom of Olodumare) to Earth. I guess the embodiment of his knowledge and wisdom are now supposedly distilled through the Priests of Ifa… better known as babalawos (in its singular form babalawo means father of secrets).

Again I am sceptical of such people… I avoid them at all cost... do some have the gift?... or are some just modelling themselves on the trickster god, Ellegua (who is supposed to open the way for Orunmila's wisdom)?

I once lost £300 from my suitcase in Nigeria when I was staying with family… someone else had lost $1000 the week before… cameras etc... had been going missing for a while. The househelp were all interrogated and they all swore to God that they were not the culprit. Their quarters were searched but nothing was found. We couldn’t figure out how they were getting the stuff they stole out of the house so fast and by now everybody was generally pissed at the culprit's confidence to be so audacious.

So it was decided that they would all be sent to a babalawo… let me quickly just say that I was not a supporter of this course of action o!

Anyway a whole heap of things happened to them that day and when the househelp came back, they were all scared shitless. The house girl was identified as the thief and we managed to get back least 3/4 of everything that had gone missing… I got back all my money.

Would I support doing so again?... No. I try and stay well clear of such things. My faith is key.

The footnote on Smaragd's post 'just the way you are' reminded me of a time when I was in University... I was forewarned… no it was actually we…we were warned against moving into a flat.

My mother always told me that 'to be forewarned is to be forearmed'... so my fighting spirit kicked in when I heard this warning and in defiance I insisted we move in... I honestly didn't believe that anything bad would happen if we did... I reminded myself of that line in Terminator 2 … ‘there is no fate but what we make’... I had faith and I knew that this wasn't our fate.

I guess another reason I didn't give into my fears so readily was simply because house hunting was a royal pain in the arse… especially with 4 other Naija girls. When we found a nice 5 bedroom house Busola pulled out. So we had to start again because this time we only needed a 4 bedroom place... most of the good ones had already gone. It was also exam season so I was stressed to the hilt with revision… which meant it was double wahala trying to sort out viewings. We knew if we waited until exams were over we would end up living in a dive.

I will not pretend that I am not fussy… I have certain standards… so when we eventually found a place… I was happy. Midweek after we had viewed the flat I got a call from Bubbles.

Shubby Doo: How now? I’m sorry I haven’t called before but I’ve been revising. Anyway I checked and I can afford my share of the rent.
Bubbles: Me too but rent isn’t the issue… it’s Chixster.
Shubby Doo: I don’t understand… you say rent isn’t the issue so what is the problem?… shebi we were all there when she said she it was ok.
Bubbles: She said she felt something strange and sinister when we were there… her spirit is unsettled… basically she got some sort of premonition that something bad would happen to us if we moved in
Shubby Doo: You’re not serious?
Bubbles: I am o…

Bubbles was serious... because Chixster was serious… I was seriously not convinced... maybe because I have always chosen faith over fate whenever they differ but I couldn’t quite dismiss her gift which had revealed this unknown foreboding future… why?

1stly - Chixster was a strong Christian.

2ndly - I had heard that it was a bad thing to ignore her advice on such things… she was gifted like her mother… it was her mother’s gift that had prevented the death of Chixster’s father… as I recall the driver had died in his place.

I called and spoke to Chixster and tried to appease her fears… no joy… but I wasn’t willing to give up on the flat despite the fact that Chixster wasn’t willing to move in.

I weighed up my options… like Busola, I too could break away but I’d already done so with another group of black girls and opted to move in solely with naija babes… hmmm... if I pulled out from this group then my only choice was living with Jay… how was I going to explain living with a guy (even though our friendship was purely platonic) to my folks? I wasn’t... so Jay wasn’t an option.

Determined, I spoke to Chixster again... she gave in a little this time… she said that the only way we were living in that place was if we waged a spiritual war against the premonition and won... No problem I thought... my fighting spirit was ready... I would put on The Armour of God (as in Ephesians 6:10-20) and go with her… Chixster said we should start by sprinkling holy water in every single room and praying... if her feelings against the place diminished we'd be winning. As I held the phone to my ear, I started to ponder how exactly we would get a priest to come with us on a 2nd viewing... hmmm... at that moment Chixster interrupted my thoughts & let it be known she had holy water we could use.

We went back.

The 2nd time I was there I felt ‘it’ too… but it so happened to be the room that I had chosen as mine that was particularly problematic… you see my room was the only one with a built-in wardrobe (I told you I had standards). When we opened it, we found a small skeleton…

Like Aoife… this time I started screaming.

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me, my health & I

Last week I turned down workingon a project which meant I’d have to commute to up north every Monday and return back to mine on Friday… the drive is about 6 hours each way…I politely told them no thanks & then added if they chose to keep on taking work up north then they should hire competent folk that live in the area…

This week I got coerced into being the Engineering Consultant for a new bid and I’m not inspired at all…5 days of my time is all I’ve agreed to… I just hope 5 days of work will NOT turn into 3 weeks…

I can’t seem to concentrate at work this week… I don’t feel well… I think I might be coming down with a cold… watery eyes plus my glands are slightly swollen... my own is that if it is a cold it should just come and pass quickly jo…

I'm blaming my Principal Consultant because he came in with a cold this week... also blaming him since he is the one that keeps pointing the Engineering Managers to my desk to ask me to work on projects that he cannot work on... despite the fact that we are BOTH fully loaded my name is still the automatic default from his lips.

Saying that he has just snuck off to 'The Boat Show'... he was trying to keep it quiet from me but I heard him whispering and acting shifty... not like him... then I saw him turning off his computer early... very unlike him... so I walked up to his desk and was like... ‘er... erm... what are you doing cos you better not be dashing off? btw what is all this I just overheard about a boat show?’... the poor guy looked like he'd just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar... lol

Despite the fact that I was amused, I met his stuttered reply with a stern look... at which point he just laughed... I wasn't too hard on him sha because he was here until about 7pm last night... COB is 4:30pm... I left at about 6:30pm yesterday but it was a longish day for me because I was in for 7:30am.

Anyway... back to my health... I have a pain in my neck… I ignored it over the weekend but it is still there… I know full well it is hurting in the same place as it did 4 years ago…

Good Shepherd just send one of your angels to hold me… for now that’s all I ask.

Maybe it is in my head but at the moment… about everything… I am thinking of this passage:

‘…For I will restore you to health and I will heal you of your wounds,' declares the LORD…’ Jeremiah 30:17

So be it, in Jesus Name.

What was I saying?... oh yes... 4 years ago I found a very small lump in my neck… I searched around at the time and found another…I have to thank God for small mercies because neither have grown since I showed the doctor back then… but I never went back like he suggested…

I will register with a doctor's surgery tonight… I should have done so when I moved up here but hey 21 months is an improvement for me… last time I moved it took me over 2 years to register…actually it was probably closer to 3 years.

Hopefully they’ll quickly transfer my medical notes from the old doctor's practice so I can make an appointment for next week… else I’ll pick them up next Tuesday when I drive south to discuss my Russian work.

Must remember to call the HR dept and take up the private health care option that I’m now entitled to have…no disrespect to the NHS.

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crossroad blues

This post is dedicated to Naapali (doc since you say you have a compass and a map…I’d really like to know where you got those from so that I may source mine too and use them to avoid the hazards of the valleys).

Anyway… back to my post…

I will start with snowflakes… these are formed from tiny super-cooled cloud droplets as they freeze. Each one is approx 10μm (i.e. 10 microns) in diameter…delicate things don’t you think?… they have a geometry that is so intricate that each one is deemed unique… much like the human soul.

I have said before that within the House of Agbada Daggers I am Flying Snow (do you like the new profile pic btw?… I think it quite appropriate!)

Well sometimes I feel like a glacier formed from snow; a slow river of compacted ice made so because the years have forced so much air out of me. If that is truly the case then I hope I am like a tidewater glacier that flows back into the sea of life. However, I am scared that when I get there a piece of me will break off in the deep water and in doing so that iceberg might cause the water to explode upwards.

I came very close to exploding this weekend when somebody close to me lied to me. They looked into my eyes, then called God’s name and lied.

The lie could not hurt me but my heart bled for the one that he would keep hurting; as well as for the others that he would keep trying to hurt. That I cannot abide. To say my soul is not troubled about this… about what I am capable of doing to stop this… is untrue.

This weekend I realised that I was at a metaphorically juncture in my life because both the physical and abstract met. I saw the devil in his eyes and he offered me a deal but I refused to trade in my soul or theirs. He told me that he would release the pain I have carried for too long so that Flying Snow would not become as cold and hard as ice.

Good Shepherd with you there is no pain… whatever there is here in this life… is not everlasting… that comes after.

So knowing this to be true, how could I suddenly accept a deal with the devil to become the King of the Delta Blues?… I could not. I did not. I will not. What did I do?… I simply chose to sing my ordinary version of the crossroad blues. For now, that is the small thing that I can do to ward him off; in doing so I have committed my worries and fears to God.

So here I am… at an intersection of roads…is there a better way to say that?… hmmm… I think there is… I am at a crossroad in life and I want to continue and embark on my own path. In doing so I feel like I am betraying another because I know I must leave the old behind. Only then can I return to it; only then can I understand more about the beauty of ages.

Good Shepherd I am looking to you (as I have always have) to guide me on this path.

Besides… you know I hate the idea of a satellite navigation systems simply because someone once told me that ‘women can’t read maps’… I will not be beaten by that statement… yes, I admit that I have gotten lost plenty of times; within cities, en route to cities, en route in life. Mostly because I have not trusted myself. This lack of self belief somtimes causes me to take a left or right turn much too early when I should have just continued forward. Goodness me, I even remember my delight at actually being able to drive on my own only to find out that I had missed my exit at a roundabout and was already halfway to Liverpool instead of Manchester.

Good Shepherd I want you to know that I will not stop trying to master how to read that map.

I will continue trying to drive through life without the devil on my shoulder, whispering where to go to me or telling me when to change gears … so what if I failed my driving test two times before… I passed it the third time. So what if I crashed the company hire car into the car park gates as I tried to reverse out… I believe that that is what car insurance is for.

My soul is insured through you. I smile now as I remember crying late that night when I was driving. I had followed diversion upon diversion not really knowing where they were taking me. I had been on the road for nearly 8 hours. It was close to midnight. I was tired and lost…very certain I would drive into a ditch cloaked in darkness. I calmed myself down and prayed. I decided to risk it and take the next turning and suddenly I stumbled upon a hotel. They had no spare room but the lady at the desk called another hotel about 5 miles away and organised a room for me. There is where I laid my head to sleep that night. It was a peaceful sleep for I knew that:

‘... thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me...’ Psalm 23

I will continue my best on this path… Yes I know I drive a little too fast for your liking at times… darn, I even admit to taking part in those unofficial races on the motorway. Er… I guess I am also a little too impatient at other times… I have used the inside lane to undertake in the past and you've seen me overtake those slow moving tractors on narrow country lanes… and perhaps once or twice I have very stupidly tried to out manoeuvre another on a blind summit.

Good Shepherd thank you for always being there with me and stopping me from endangering others and myself.

I have discovered that it is important to pace myself… the key is to learn from my mistakes and grow into that which I know myself to be … as a result I am a better driver… my map reading is coming along too :-)

Good Shepherd I choose you. Always.

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blow

Last Saturday, I got phone call which I didn’t answer because the roaming charges in Istanbul for my UK phone tariff were high. I sent a reply to explain. The next morning I received a text message asking me to call. I replied the text with another one saying I would call once I was back in England. Then I got another text message. When I read it I thought sod the roaming charges and I called her:

Shubby Doo: Hello. What happened?
Her: Hello. Shubby Doo calm down. Please.
Shubby Doo: Don’t worry about me. What happened? Are you ok?
Her: I’m ok. I’m in bit of pain.
Shubby Doo: What was it this time? Just tell me what happened?

He had beaten her.

She said when the first blow connected; she didn’t even bother to scream she just started running. She locked the bedroom door and then locked herself in the bathroom. When he broke down both doors, she instinctively raised her arms to protect herself…it hadn’t helped. He had just continued to beat her...she said he didn’t stop when she hit the ground...he had just kept pummelling her body with punches and kicks.

She laughed bitterly when she admitted that amidst her screams, she heard him saying repeatedly “I’m going to kill you”.

At one point I thought she said he had used something to hit her over the head. I stopped her...had I heard correctly? what had he used? She said no, he had ‘just’ punched her on the head again and again…

‘just’ ke?…there is nothing ‘just’ about his behaviour.

With every blow he has ever laid on her before last saturday, as well as those blows that he rained down on her on that day, he is ignoring the bible verse that says:

‘…husband love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave himself for her’ Ephesians 5:25

Good Shepherd, let your peace descend upon him. Please show him that the way to love is through, care, affection, commitment, understanding, trust, respect, and sincerity.

I do not understand why he runs off to his village so often...please who does business in the village these days?

Despite my plea for her to stay with her sister in Lagos, reluctantly she goes with him. Before she liked going to his village to see his mother...iya was the kind hearted soul who sheltered her from her monster. His mother is dead now...she said that when she arrived there after iya died he had held on to her tightly...he had wailed he in her arms like ‘a baby’. She was not allowed at the graveside but she heard he hadn't stop crying when they were burying iya.

She does not like going to his village now because it is full of lying and thieving beggars who will say anything to him for some money…that is how they earn their way. She can see through their deceit but she has learnt that it is better to say nothing...one word against them and she incurs his wrath.

I have no understanding why an educated and well travelled man likes to surround himself in such treachery...I guess it is simply because in that remote world he is idolised falsely...she says he likes it when they call him ‘oga’...‘sir…‘governor’…‘chief’...‘daddy’...‘baba wa’...

I think he also likes taking her there when he is itching to use her as target practice...in his village she is away from her loved ones …in his village she isolated.

She is still there now. The doctor has visited her at home several times...in the room with no door. She is now on some medication. She gets more immediate relief when he gives her an injection for the pain. She says hasn't been able to sleep since that night...she is scared to close her eyes.

She says sometimes she wishes it would end...it will someday but sadly I don't think one of them will survive it...she says if by some lucky chance he leaves this world before her as a Christian she is not sure she would observe iddah as his widow...then she says that a mourning period consisting of four lunar cycles and 10 days is a small price to pay compared with what she has endured already. At other times she says she can't help but smile at the thought of her dead parents patiently waiting to receive her but then she remembers the children...always...she thinks first of the children.

Good Shepherd, watch over her. Please take up her struggle and be her shield.

One time, he tore her clothes off as he beat her at home...the village onlookers just stood there and watched the show...that time he left her bleeding and bruised in their front reception room in her underwear...this was about six to nine months after she had had major surgery...he was not the reason she had been in hospital but she was still supposed to be taking it easy.

I do not understand why:
1) It is still considered ok for a man to beat his wife in Nigeria?
2) Such men are always so adept at hiding their true colours up until the time a woman has walked up the aisle and lovingly said “I do”?

Before they got married…he was her gentleman.
After they got married…he stopped her modelling work.
After she gave birth to the children…he stopped her career as a teacher.

Like I've said his abuse is not a new thing...but it is becoming worse...sadly not only for her.

On one occasion, his little boy stood up to him. That should have stopped a grown man...but not this man. Instead, he went to his child’s room and started to throw the boy’s things out…the child was not going to sleep under his roof. She had started begging him to stop…it was not the boy’s fault…she told him he could do whatever he wanted to her. He didn’t continue his attack because he had already satisfied his thirst for violence...but now he had also evoked such fear that she was willing to submit to anything....his ego had been well fed by this notion...so much so that he did not speak to his son for 2 months...can you imagine that they had to specially seek ‘an audience’ with him so that the boy could say sorry for taking mummy’s side.

On another occassion he beat his other son for helping mummy pack as she tried to leave... she had found out (yet again o!) that he was sleeping with someone else...enough was enough...when he wasn't at home, she started moving her stuff out a little bit at a time...he found out. First he beat her...then he asked his boy where had she been going?...where was her stuff?... his eldest son refused to talk. When he was done with both of them he locked each one in a different room to think about what they had done...to think about how they had betrayed him. It was not to happen again.

I could give other examples but there is no point...it always ends the same way...with violence...not because he was raised that way o!...his mother told her that his father would have been ashamed had he lived to see this.

I think he does this because he wants to be master of all he surveys...he believes his ‘might is right’.

She is both friend and family...I cherish her beyond words...simply put...she is too dear to me to loose...but I don't understand what to do anymore as I've realised that:

Their union cannot still be a blessing because it is based on fear.

I fear one day, in his rage, she will die.

I know, for now, she will not leave him,
I know she endures it for her children.

Good Shepherd, guide and guard her under that shadow of your wing. Please keep her safe.

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the good kind

There is this lovely guy at work...in his late twenties …we are part of a group that goes to the same resort for outdoor sports training…I ski or snowboard for about 2 hours but he goes all the way there just for 15minutes in the wind tunnel to perfect his skydiving techniques…“pure madness” I tell him but he simply replies “the good kind.”

I just found out some frightening news about him and I’m floored…

I came in from lunch to an announcement…in my mind I was like ‘what is it again…these execs in my company just like to talk sha’…I was shocked to find out that this guy is in an intensive care unit in Paris…what?!!!...I can’t believe it…he only just took the secondment to go to France.

They say he was in car accident on his way to work this morning. British consulate will only release info to his family. The company are flying his family to see him.

Adam you are in my prayers.

‘…the Spirit of him… who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life …through his Spirit who dwells in you.’ Romans 8:11

Good Shepherd help him to get well

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