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letter to my mom



You’ve been the greatest mother to me
Teaching me many things that others never see
And so I write to you this very day
That The Lord may bless you in every way

Through the years of heartbreak and toil
You’ve always been there for this girl who you spoil
And now I’m a lady whom you trained in the past
Though sometimes I may tell you to ‘just kiss my ass’

Anyway I just wanted to say
Thank you my mother for starting me on this Way
For without your teaching I’d be lost today
But because of you and God by my side
Maybe I will find the bravery inside

The strength to withstand every personal attack
That mine enemies throw at me and I might just lack
And so to you the ‘world’s best Mom’
I’ll remember you always especially on your birthday.

happy birthday shugar! ! !

My Real Goddess
Today my mother
Came to my room
With lots of blessing
And full of good wishing
To live long
Happy and healthy
Progressive and wealthy
My mother
My sweet mother
My beautiful mother
My loving mother
My real goddess
My ever goodness
My first lady I loved
My life my mother
My soul my mother
My God-gift my mother
My pride my mother
My aim my mother
My teacher my mother
My friend my mother
My preacher my mother
O the Absolute Almighty
Give me my mother
Again and again
And again and again
My mother
Only my mother.

Thank you, I love you Mom

Love, Your first born Daughter!


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Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.
Ann Taylor


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Hi blogville, how is november treating us? its been good to me so far… my posts have been slow or even absent recently, don’t mind me. im just trying to enjoy my break all together. well I have plenty plenty gist for you, I am doing plenty plenty stuff sef, some ofofo people already know, some don’t and me sef I don’t know all because really my life has been amazing recently. You know what? sad days are over! not like I am 100% happy but comparing the testimonies in my life with that of 2012 happenings i think i am blessed.

Back when I was in nursery or more realistically primary school, I have always wanted to be a scientist, I used to see myself as one of the worlds greatest talent 😦 My father never really believed in me neither did my mum think I was serious but graduating into junior secondary, excelling in a lot of science games and competition shifted their believes a little bit, being appointed the health prefect in senior secondary brought lime light into my love for saving and being an important part of success. Then, I choose medicine. it was a yeey moment when I finally gained admission into two schools to study medicine in th year 2006 but declined because of distance and also same in 2007 but accepted one. This always made me feel like medicine chose me since all trial was successful, all I needed to do was study hard and show my family and friends what a great doctor I could and would be.

well well, seems they were right  I wasnt so good at that but still good as a  scientist. Also, I discovered something else, something great and overwhelming. I was good at not just one thing but at many things, I joined groups and teams, created and innovated. I was a symbol of a strong girl and this I wasnt going to give up. I had changed shoes


The famous “container” call me razz or local, for all i care. Many if not all of us wore this at a point in time, especially those of us that the school headmasters and headmistresses made it compulsory for every parent to buy this for each student, well life then was follow follow, you barely had the chance to choose, the few areas where you choose are very negligible. we all went to school everyday asking for samething we had yesterday, not exactly thinking or making differences but as we grew some of us quickly learnt to stand out but still in theses shoes.


This was one of the most loved school sandal type, popularly known as KITTO, I rocked it and even when I changed it, I got the same kind of shoes all over again, it was swift and easy to wear, no pain no stress. once you wash, you are good to go.

my life then; it was swift because it was what majority wore, we all loved KITTO. And no matter the popularity or commoness we didnt mind, Our life choices were based upon what family and friends wanted. Our environment was a determinant of what we planned our lives to be, there were no particular guidance towards what you should or shouldnt do, there were just rules. which was: wash, dry, clean and wear. no one looks at the fittness or attractiveness, weather it was curvy or straight so far it fits.

shoe awon medico

Then, I adopted the black holes, I called it black holes back then because I had to drag myself in it out of interest, going from one lecture hall to the other most of which never interest me, this shoes were no fun at all, patent and tight leather. But what choice do I have since its compulsory for medical students to wear black flats, why dont i just practise it now.

over-worn hahhaha

yea yea, I know its worn out and thats why i photoshoped it, well my shoe is an exact interpretation of my life as a zoologist, the last 3 years spent in Uni wasn’t fun or embraced, I just wanted out. Each day i wore the shoes, the sun’s reflection reminds me of how old it is and i keep telling myself it was the last day I would wear it but yimz I wore it over and over again and even kept it till after Uni to remind myself of how strong the shoe was despite the critism and discrimination from all other shoes it faced in lecture rooms and labouratory it never broke a leg or tear. It was my lucky shoe. 😦

The ugly “JUNGLE BOOT” It is fierce and painful, not attractive to the eye, never appealing, not even easy to carry but you know what?, it is rewarding, protective and bring alot of pride. theses boots i adopted forcefully, from day one were i wore it after leaving camp searching for a job and having to wear it all the way because my mom wanted to see me in the not so appealing khaki. it brought me joy, a fulfilling job and it made me proud. today i don’t longer yarn for it because its been dumped and kept in hiding, given no man because i appreciate this shoe aka jungle boot. AND when people ask, what next? i think of what it has brought me; a self satisfying job. if i had not adopted NYSC i probably wont have gotten my present job and when i said “…today is the first day of the rest of my life…” I wasnt just saying, I meant it. today, I adopted new shoes, though not as comfortable as my slips but very befitting and enhancing. along the life-line no shoe is exactly suiting or comfortable we just have to learn how to work with IT.

Back to the top: when I was bragging about how much of science I knew and wanted to venture in, God was probably sittig somewhere, laughing at my ignorant self, He knew from day one that even though I hated to work for someone, I will still have to, in order to learn how to run a buisness, Even though i wasnt and crave my own enterprise, i still have manage anothers’, even though I choose a particular path for myself, he knew which will not be so rocky, I cant climb and even though I fantacised about so many shoes, he chooses the perfect one for me. Some one said to me this morning that “Maryam, you are very lucky” I smiled and said; Indeed I am blessed.

Today, don’t dropout and sit home, don’t get frustrated by your tight shoes and wear dunlop, work it out, it hurts and it might not fit but once you find your self in one, work it out. if you get to the change stage, pick a much nicer one.

So as for those who asked, BACK TO SCHOOL? Hell yeah, my workplace is more than just an office, its a school because i know little about my job roles but i am going to learn and excel because i believe.

exit and singing; i believe that i can make it and i know that i can stand, no matter what may come my way, my life is in your hands…. *smiles*


when u go marry?


God does not give me the option of getting older without turning plus one. I want to get older; I want to be more mature; I want to be wiser; I want to get the experience one only gets by spending more time on earth, but I do not necessarily want my age to go higher – at least not at the rate that it goes. Perhaps, I will feel better if it took eighteen months to turn plus one instead of twelve months.
I am not a child, and I do not wish to go back to my childhood; however, I am really just a kid at heart. The thought of being married excites me; the thought of having a man to call my own fascinates me; the thought of having children that come out of me thrills me, but even more than all that, the thought of leaving my parents terrifies me. Yes, I want to start a family of my own, but I still want to live with my mommy. Who will rub my back when I am feeling down? Who will rub my feet? Who will play with my hair? The probability that my husband will do all these is not very high – unless my husband happens to not be Nigerian which is highly unlikely. I am tempted to get into all the reasons why my mother might be a more romantic husband, but I will save that for another day.
The older I become, the more often I hear that question that no girl ever wants to hear (especially if she does not know the answer to it), “so when are you getting married?” My best friend is getting married in a month’s time, another got married today a few married last month and I have stopped telling people about it because it always leads them to ask me the question I do not want to hear. I do not know when I will be getting married. I do not know how I will be proposed to. I do not know where or when I will be proposed to. But most importantly, I do not know to whom I will be getting married. But no one asks me who I will be getting married to; everyone is concerned about when.
Things have gotten so bad that my mother’s friends’ husband gave my number to his friend who has a son. He told me all the supposed good things about his friend’s son – he is in the military (is that supposed to be a good thing? I hear the military guys are all whores); he flies planes for the military (Oh great! In addition to possibly being hit by a stray bullet, he also runs the risk of dying in a plane crash); he is Hausa (so what? I hear they do not make them like they used to anymore. But then again, were they ever really that good?); he is in med school (how nice! I can look forward to my potential husband spending all his time in the hospital. And let us not forget the student loans), but my He failed to tell me if his friend’s son was single and looking. I guess all that mattered was the relationship between my father and his father.
I concluded that the guy would have to be really desperate to actually call me. I mean, what would he say when he calls me? “Hi, my name is —, and I got your number from my father who got it from your father who said we should mingle and see where this might lead to.” Yeah, there goes the introduction I have been waiting for all my life. I did not expect him to call; he never did call, and my mind forgot the issue. But then months later, my father asked me if he had called, and that was when I remembered him. I am ashamed to admit this, but a part of me was sad. Why did he not call?? He should have at least called to hear my voice. He should have at least considered the possibility of God working in mysterious ways. Yes, indeed, I am pathetic, I know. So that was how my relationship with the flying military man in med school ended before it got a chance to start.
Like I stated earlier, my friend is getting married in a month’s time; another close friend of mine got married this Saturday (October 20th 2012), and yet another friend is getting married in December. Everyone has been asking the same question, and I am sick and tired of saying I do not know. Besides, saying I do not know only prompts the one asking to ask another unanswerable question, “Why now?” What the heck?! I can go ahead and explain to anyone who cares to hear that I have an idea of what I want my wedding gown to look like; I know the exact engagement and wedding ring I want; I know where I want to do my traditional marriage; I know what I want the ceremony to be like; I know what I want the Nikkah wedding to look like; I know what kind of marriage I want to share with my husband, and I even have an idea of the songs we will play that day, the names of our children, and how many I want to look like me (I want at least one boy and one girl to look like me)!
In fact, I also know that I want five children (including a set of twins and two adopted). I am so sure of my twins that I have secretly started calling myself Mama Ejima or Mama Ibeji. Yes, I have claimed it already. All I need now is the ‘who’, but no one is asking me that. I guess all that matters is that I know when I will be getting married. Finding the ‘who’ should not be too difficult seeing as I have thousands of men knocking my door down and asking my parents for permission to pluck the ripe flower in their garden. Yeah, right!

My friend, who has been single since i know her now thinks because she has one guy doing her is feeling different. Suddenly, her new wave of ‘manfullness’ has given her the confidence to have pity on me. She said she will help me out of my predicament. I did not even know I had a predicament!
How am I supposed to tell people when I will be getting married if I do not even have a man to propose? Or am I supposed to propose to myself and marry myself? That would actually not be such a terrible idea since I consider myself the best partner anyone can ever dream of (wink) , but I cannot afford the ring I want. Besides, I kind of need a man to have the five children that I plan on having, and going to a sperm bank is out of the question. Another perk of getting married is the tax breaks that married couples get. Who does not want or need a tax break? I know I do. Oh well, I guess I would just have to wait for my darling to show up. I have to say it is taking him a mighty long time to get here, but with all the humidity and global warming occurring, transportation must have slowed down. That is my story, and I am sticking to it.
Of course, if I could have a meeting with God, I would suggest He creates a Custom-M’ade Spouse program – a program in which people – men and women alike – can create their partner just as they want him or her. But I know this is merely a fantasy that will never come to pass. But if for any reason God decides to create such a program, I will not mind being the first to utilize it. Heaven knows I am in dire need of it. Until then however, I will just have to wait for my darling like every other woman out there.

So when am I getting married? Beats me. But if you find out, do let me know,

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NYSC shouldnt be a total waste!


My pledge to Nigeria still remains the same even though a lot of us do not see it as one, for every time we recited it right from primary school to secondary up to the university level and now to serving our country “Nigeria”. Being part of the most blessed batch of all batches, 11C resuming on the 15/11/12 with little or no interest, bailing out of camp based on health issues and not minding what I will miss, the mammy market everyone looked forward to wasn’t catching my fancy, after spending two nights in camp, no shower, no wee, I made up my mind to find my way back to my abode. I’m no butty nor tush, I grew up in Mushin and Orile respectively and now live in the razz part of Lagos Island. I just couldn’t cope with our poor Nigerian system anymore. Lagos camp has been longed tagged the best ever ( well in terms of fun and opportunities) unfortunately for me, I missed out on most if not all. I for once have never been interested in the so-called NYSC; I thought it was a waste of time.
My staying out of camp gave my friends and colleagues reasons to think I had job waiting, but Alas! NO! I used these time to surf the internet looking for one even though I wasn’t exactly ready to work for anyone, I’m a fashion designer M’ADE. Why should I waste a year serving a country that never pays back? But that changed when I was offered one with a reasonable “corper pay”. Leaving where I was initially posted to teach biology and math in a School in Bariga after one week of bonding with the kids left guilt in my heart. I couldn’t forgive myself for weeks.
Then came the strike – OCCUPY NAIJA, I kept thinking “if I don’t who will? If not now, when?” Most of the protesters were heard and listened to because they went to school and acquired knowledge. I then thought, NYSC can’t be a total waste, been posted to Lagos should be the greatest opportunity for anyone, I might be earning more than 75% of Lagos corps members and less than 10% of Lagos corps members but this ratio is enough to get me on my heels and do something rewarding.
I Started with Wednesday free teaching programme at my old PPA and few schools around. The student knew me to be a proud fashion designer and making them understand the state of our country and how important it is to be self empowered was my priority. In June, a couple of friends passed out, it was a wake up call, many made no impact, some did and very few were recognised. I like to be important and valued, it is my speciality and I do not see any wrong in that, it had always been my driving force. I wanted to be important, to be make impact and to reflect on my theory of OCCUPY NAIJA. The time was now, I took up a project (I’M MADE) in conjunction with 10 other Nigerian youths and ambassadors to train 35 students in 5 vocational courses, to visit homes under the (care 4 all project) to share experiences and let the young know they still have hope in Nigeria. Today, I am dropping my old,tight and only khaki knowing fully well that I have served my country and I am sure those 35students will serve 35 each more and the trend will continue and even when I pick a white collar job or get on my sewing machine creating ideas and designs more empowered youths will be created alongside.

Am i fulfilled? YES! Am i happy? YES! Am i grateful? YES! Am a lot of things including proud of everyone around me, everyone that always appreciated me, everyone that helps me get lucky, everyone that will do anything to make my plans become project. I can’t mention names anymore because you all know yourselves.

I thank the Lagos State Govt and the whole of NYSC crew for appreciating me and awarding me as outstanding productive corps member. The Lagos State Honours Award, means so much to me.

Don’t be quick to think Lagos is the happening place. In fact, if it is Zamfara it’s a place to give a hand to peace, new knowledge and also learn craft, Kwara state is the best place for practising agriculture; you don’t have to hold hoes or cutlasses, you can be opportunistic about it, my Ibadan corps members knew what was right “business”, just think of something you can passionately sell, A friend of my does delivery business in Ebonyi and Uyo back and forth and now has a certification on that, East- west, North- south of Nigeria is full of great opportunities, it just requires creative minds and ideology. We can find more than we can wait to get, just talk to me and many through @MADE_creations with #MADE/#MADE creations, lets create more opportunities for ourselves even though the government aren’t ready to make it easy.

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Aisha n Josh ~ episode 13


I had been out for 3hours, even my mom feared for my life, she was been assured of my well being, i was just short on blood and lack of energy. Waking up at about 10pm the ward was empty, My mum was still beside me, holding him so close. He was small, red and dark headed. I rolled over to get comfort, my mum called on the nurses, they checked on me and confirmed i was fine. They welcomed me to life with smiles and teases of how lazy i was, i wasn’t exactly eager to hold him but i always loved miracles, he his my miracle.
Mum handed him over, he was fragile and tiny, i was afraid i would crush him. Breast milk was all over me, immediately i held him close he cried, he’δ not had milk for last few hours. I didn’t know what to do, even i had watched women feed their babies it didn’t occur to me what next to do. He was screaming so loud, i started shedding tears, i was afraid i’ll never be up to the task, i will never be able to make him smile, i will never be the right mother for him and i was too afraid to start the new life right on my alms. I was consoled and encouraged by everyone around. My mum helped me raise him up to a more comfortable position he sucked like he has been practising from the womb. My breasts ached so much, i couldn’t even retrieve them from his warm lips. I watched and caressed him till he slept off.
The next day didn’t start easy, had to mother-routines, these things don’t just come like the usual house chores but its joyful because every seconds reminds you of how miraculous your life is. On the 17th of September my life took a new turn. I felt true Joy for once in my life, i was ready to makeup for all the L♥√ع i didn’t show him from the day i found out he was changing my whole world. But sincerely, my mum was most excited. I took the opportunity to ask her if she had heard from Aman, she nodded showing me my phone. Aman had been calling and sending me message. He even sent me a picture of my red baby with a caption “like papa(me)”. Seeing that brought a big grin to my face. I was glad someone outside my family had my back. Even before i dropped the phone, he called again, we spoke non-stop until “red baby” interrupted.
Two days passed, i was discharged from the hospital, as much as my mum would have loved to celebrate, circumstances won’t allow. Getting back home was welcoming and relaxing. Aman was waiting with lots of gifts and smiles. I was too shy to even look up to him, he was eager to receive red baby from my mum. After settling and resting, i remembered the last thing i saw immediately after my delivery, I asked my mum about it. She insisted it was Aman and his friend.
Confirming it wasn’t Aman’s friend brought much more concern to me than my mum. Things had settled and red baby was named “Aahil Basim” smiling prince, Basim was my Father’s name and Aahil-prince was the next thing i could think of. I loved him more and more by the day. Aman stood by me. He would check on us every night. He his truly a blessed man. Sometime in December he brought his Grandma to see us. My son! (Yes, he’s mine and mine alone) keeps growing bigger and healthier. It took no re consideration to cancel furthering my education in Cyprus, i just couldn’t imagine leaving Aahil, i won’t even concentrate, my whole world now revolves around him.
It was new year’s eve and as expected, you get many calls, texts and emails. I usually don’t pay attention to most of them, Aahil is too troublesome to even let me concentrate on social media. But this particular email struck me. It was from Josh. I really wish to copy and paste his message here but i had promised not to expose anymore personal messages.
His last words were ” a known devil is better than an unknown angel”. I obviously remember every bit i had with him, his mother’s words to mine. All the pain, the scars and the regrets. Aman has been there for me, he’s not asked me for anything, he’s the man my son knows. He’s hard working and God fearing. He is everything you want in a being not just a man. Even though he hasn’t asked, i know he’s only giving me time to heal. This i know because of how many times we’ve had to talk about us. He knows everyone around me and I’m sure if he had more friends and family to show i would have known them. How can Josh just show up because he thinks he can, how???

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