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letter to my mom

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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!

MY MOTHER – HBBD

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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

BACK TO SCHOOL?

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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

BACK THEN IN PRIMARY

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.

KITTO OF LIFE!!!

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?

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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!

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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.
GOOD TO GO … NOW YOUR STRUGGLE SURVIVAL CONTINUES

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Aisha n Josh ~ episode 13

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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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Aisha n Josh ~ episode 12

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On this day, I woke up very early and excited. I had made breakfast, washed some clothes and cleaned my room. Since the 7th month, Aunty had given me and my mum a place in the house, sort of like a BQ but with two rooms. The one I chose was repainted and furnished, its about the time I started getting excited about things and the arrival of a new life. Behind those smiles were my eagerness to drop my baggage and start a new life, go to cyprus where no one knew me or my story. It probably is the wrong reason to be happy but at least I am.

After breakfast, I was on a call with Aman; he asked if he could come visit. He had been asking since the beginning of the week but I didn’t think it was necessary. I mentioned it to my mum she didn’t think it was a bad idea, I still didn’t give him the permission to. But this morning, I could use some visit. I was eager to show someone external my new room/nursery. In half an hour, he was at the main gate, all bright and smiles. Obviously happy to see me. Maybe weird but it feels like I’ve known him for ever, it feels like he now owns a part of me, we had a long afternoon talk. He helped me with stuff, cooked my meal and wrote a letter to my unborn child :). My mum was nosy all through the time and when he was about leaving, I felt all teary and sad. I tried to walk him to his car, parked far down the road because he didn’t know the exact block. I felt a sharp pain in my back, I was quick to hide it, but it was too much I couldn’t hold it back. I screamed and called attention to myself. Aman was afraid, he thought I hit my leg or something. My mum was still at the gate, she rushed towards me, before I knew it, my water broke on the streets.

Aman is a strong looking man with great physic, he’s tall, fair and quite handsome, he’s Idoma and speaks really good Yoruba and Hausa. His grandmother whom I usually see with him is actually not his grandmother but his mum. I practically called her grandma because she looks and act like one, she had him when she was 47 and now he’s 28 you can imagine. He’s got a really good job because he’s not only intelligent but also has an influential father. He would refer to him as grandpa because his father always lamented how he should have been his grandpa if not for his coming late.
At that point I was exhausted and dizzy. My mum knew the baby was coming. Then, it dawn on me that the time had finally come. My aunt was out with the car, thank God Aman brought his. He drove mum and I down to the hospital, waited for the 7hours it took me to deliver. After the long day, and several push from the doctor and consolations from the nurse. The first thing I heard was, “call the father to come cut his cord”. Father?! His?! I tried to open my tired eyes to see who was there, but iwas too tired to do that. where is the father coming from with no hesitation, the body entered the room, quite tall and all smiles. I had a boy!

Let’s remember to #Savemusbaudeen
#saveAlife http://t.co/yU0SvvwN pls RT and donate

Musibaudeen Shittu is a 2yrs old boy who was recently diagnosed to be living with ‘HOLE IN HIS HEART’. His heart condition is deteriorating and has been medically classed as a HIGH RISK case and life threatening situation.
Kindly make donations into ;
Account Name: SHITTU MUSIBAUDEEN
Account No: 2058239672
Bank          : UBA, Ifako- Gbagada branch,Lagos

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AiSHa n JoSH~ episode 9

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The memories of how my father died played in my mind. It’s been 18years since the tragic accident happened and ever since, my mum and I never talked about it because none of us could understand why. I was just five years old but it was too dark an event not to remember.
My father was the only son of his parents just like my mum. They both met in college. After about 2years together, my mum got pregnant and they decided to keep it because both parents wanted more kids since they couldn’t conceive. A few months later, my maternal and paternal grandparents started having issues as my maternal’s blamed my father for hindering my mum’s career. My father didn’t agree to this. This constant disagreements threw my mum out of my grandparent’s house since my father didn’t have an apartment of his own. According to my mum, my father would come see her twice a day. He would rock me in his arms and even make sure I’m asleep at night before he leaves.
Katsina isn’t exactly big, but my father rode town to town daily just to see my innocent face. Finally, he got a good job in my mother’s hometown and rented an apartment. We lived and grew in it together till that dark night. We had no power in the area, I can remember vividly even though I was only five. We had used a broken lantern to light the house and had all slept off. I have no idea how the fire started but that’s how everything we had went down. My father saved me but had several burns and continual convulsion. The doctors said his lungs were damaged and even though his parents had a lot of money, it wasn’t enough at the time death came knocking. Abu Abubakar, my father, was 29 years old when he died in the state hospital. He died so I could live. Will I loose my mum too?
Dr Olu walked towards me and placed his hands on my shoulder. I shivered and cried. With eyes filled with tears, I looked into his eyes and asked with fear “please, where is my mother”?? They all chorused, “she went to get something”! It seemed like a planned response. I scream and fell to the ground. I must have fainted, because by the time I woke up, I had a blurred vision and severe headache. I could feel the heat from my body. My mother was there, she wore her white Jalabiyah, holding my feet and caressing them. I thought I had died too until I heard another voice. It was my aunt’s. She called on a nurse that I was awake. Then I wondered and then realised I was actually awake. “Mum, what happened”? I asked with anxiety. She responded “nothing, I only went to get you a small bag to put your purse”. She further asked “what happened my daughter? Are you ready to go home? Or don’t you want to go to Aunty Sidi’s place? All the questions, All her fears and worries, I just hugged her and smiled. I replied “nothing, I was just scared, I thought I had lost you. Please don’t ever leave me mum”.

Some doctors really need to learn how to give news, good or bad. I could have died or lost my mind, the thought of bearing that pain could have dropped my heart dead. The nurse had come back into the room with Dr Olu. He said jokingly, that I was full of drama and fear and that I needed to overcome my fear to avoid high blood pressure. He also pleaded with me not to hurt myself or my mum or even my offsprings. OFFSPRINGS??? I laughed out loud and couldn’t stop. I don’t intend getting married soon and even if I do, because of my mum, it won’t be anytime soon. He sat beside me and told me not to panic.

Dr Olu: Aisha, you know bad things happen to people for reasons only best known to God

Aisha: Yes, I do

Dr Olu: You have passed the test of time and fate, no one can hurt you again

Aisha: Oh yes, I believe insha Allah

Dr Olu: Good, so whatever happens next is God’s will right?

Aisha: Yes doctor 🙂

Dr Olu: Earlier today we were trying to tell you something but your fears made you believe it was because you lost your mum.

Aisha: Dr, I’m sorry, you all scared me

Dr Olu: I’m sorry about that

Aisha: No problem, I just want to go home. I’m feeling better

Dr Olu: Yes you will, but promise
me you won’t be afraid or worried

Aisha: I promise

Dr Olu: Thank you. We have checked all your vitals and they are in good shape. However, the STI is suppressed, you need to complete the doses and come back for check up or go to the referred hospital in lagos. We also did some very important tests for people in your condition and we are sorry to tell you that you are PREGNANT!

Aisha: What?!!! How is that possible??

Dr Olu: We are yet to find out but I’m hoping it’s your boyfriend

Shame and tears rolled down my eyes as I felt I had let my mum down AGAIN. She held me close and said the sweetest things to me. I am finished. Why are all these things happening to me? Why would fate choose this for me? Why? Why??

Then I remembered what I’ve tried so hard to forget, I was raped by four men. Joshua inclusive. Who is the father?????

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Fear of Karma!

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Hi everyone, my name is Kamila and I love my boyfriend. Big deal? No! But how I came to love him, big deal? Yes!!

I’m such a fun girl, I’m more of an extrovert, loving, playful, sassy but a bit responsible, I can be crazy when necessary and I can be gentle if required.

I’m not exactly faithful, well until recently. I love to experiment even though I’m not a scientist. I just finished my ACCA exams and it was a success. Thank Goodness karma, didn’t try to deal with me in that area because that would have been a big loss.

I’m 24years old, from a middle class family and well mannered. I have three siblings, two brothers and a sister. I’m the third child but I get no pampering because my parents are disciplined. I was thought the right ways of the lord but I also learnt from the streets Yo!

I will not bore you with my life but I’ll ask you to please read carefully. I don’t know why I approached M’ade but I just thought I’ll use her platform to get my story out.

I have been dating my present boyfriend for about 3years now. We have been weak, strong and determined but it didn’t change who I am or what I love to do. I am an extrovert, he’s more of an introvert and my relationship with him gets really boring, I particularly don’t have many friends and my best friend is happy married.

Since she got engaged I brought myself to reality because we met our boyfriends at approximately the same time and I wondered what I was doing with mine.

Since my first sexual intercourse, I have slept with six guys, most of whom I slept with after I met my boyfriend, we never had any official breakup but whenever it gets boring I find myself cheating.

Usually, I’m never in regret but I’m afraid of my past catching up with me. He probably has cheated but he’s a guy. He lies and pretends but whenever it’s about me, its 100%.

Back to why I’m writing this, recently about 6months ago, my boyfriend and I always had issues of how to chill and hangout, but he always wanted us to sit at home and do nothing which leads us to either too much or too little sex. That’s not what I want; I want to be adventurous with my boyfriend. I want to go shopping, see movies, laugh outside, go visiting friends and xxxxxxxx just under the sky. He’s gotten boring by the day. Each time I complain he promises to adjust, and after about 2days he’s back to his boring old self.

I love him and I’m ready to do whatever he wants, but being boring isn’t just working. So, one of my friends noticed my constant complaint on my personal status on BBM and asked what’s up with me. I reluctantly answered because I never discuss my relationship. A lot of girls are out there single, they just complicate yours. She advised I make new friends, try new platforms and learn to be happy without my boyfriend. She then asked what kinda guy I liked. I gave her the girly description of a perfect man. She wowed me by sending pictures of the intended boredom saver. I immediately disapproved of him because he is fair skinned. She laughed and said he was fair to the heart. We exchanged contacts and that’s how it began.

Day 2, into my chatting up with Hussain has been amazing. Oh Hussain is his name, we from the same state. He works in a cargo company and lives in Port Harcourt just around my parents second home. My present boyfriend also works with a communication company in Port Harcourt but I school in Lagos. Just one week into our friendship, I knew almost everything about Hussain more than I can say about any guy I had met. He makes me smile, happy and free. We talk about everything and anything. He’s just a sweet guy. But I still wasn’t sure of his personality since it was virtual. Then we decided to meet. It was magical, as we were both thinking the same things. On my arrival at the airport, Hussain was there waiting for me with flowers. He took me home and got me lunch. Not that I’m comparing but I just need you guys to see it all. My Boyfriend Kamal has never picked me up from the airport even if it’s a weekend and his office is on the airport road Port Harcourt. I never complained because I had never tasted the other side. Hussain calls me up for lunch and talks to me about everything including his girlfriend as I did him mine.

I consciously and unconsciously daily expressed my love for him and all he did was smile, he never told me he liked me but his action shows it. I became confused as I never worried about chatting or calling Kamal. Time passed and we felt more close and intimate, we had our first weird kiss and the several followed. I took my time but I also wanted it. He was sweet and fun. I didn’t feel a bit of guilt about it and I still don’t.

Two months ago my parents asked me to bring home a man and because my mum had met Kamal, she expects me to bring him but I needed to make clarifications with my mind. I tried discussing with myself in the mirror but it kept bouncing back. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it because it sounded insane. I love Kamal sooo much because every time I cheat or draw away from him, we sometimes find ourselves in each other’s arms like we were meant to be together. I love Hussain because he’s sweet, adorable and makes me ‘happy’. I’m happy with Kamal but I fear it might fade out of boredom.

I spoke with Hussain about meeting my parents and how they wanted my man home, he reluctantly responded, I know it’s too soon but I just hope he’ll at least say something about his feelings for me. I needed him to give me a go ahead or stall my parents but he didn’t. The pressure was getting high and I didn’t want my father to think I’m irresponsible considering I’m 24 and they know I’m seeing someone. I told Kamal about it and he was excited. Even though we are not ready yet, he’s ready to make it official, he’s long taken me to his parents and I’ve been accepted.

A week after Kamal’s meeting with my parent, Hussain gave me the shocker story; of how he loves me and has made up his mind to marry me and all. I was devastated as to why it took him so long. he cried on his knees and begged for a chance but I can’t break my engagement with Kamal because I have promised him. I can’t go back to my parents and say stories. That night, we made out and said goodbye.

 The first few days were hard but I was left to myself to learn to appreciate my man and I hope I have made the right choice. My heart has refused to speak to me, I am hoping you can.
 

K

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