IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO RAISE A CHILD MY PEOPLE SAY. IT SHOULD TAKE ONE PERSON AT A TIME TO RAISE A SPIRIT, EVERYDAY A DIFFERENT FACE AND WE’LL EVENTUALLY GET THERE. THIS IS BY FAR ONE OF THE BEST HONORING OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT I HAVE READ ABOUT.
A NIGERIAN ACTRESS AND ACTIVIST STELLA DAMASCUS SPEAKS AGAINST CHILD ABUSE AND THE NIGERIAN SENATE.
These men claim Islam permits perversion, but Nigeria is not an Islamic state. We do not live by Sharia laws and Nigerians believe every child deserves a childhood.
Please read, share and encourage friends to talk about this on social media. We want to shame the perverts in our Senate and make the rest of the world aware of their evil. Thank you all for all your support.
FOR SO MANY YEARS THIS HAS GONE IN MY HOME COUNTRY NIGERIA,
EVERYONE IS TIRED AND OUTRAGED EXCEPT THE PERVERTS IN OUR SENATE. THIS IS THE TYPICAL LIFE OF MANY CHILDREN IN THE MUSLIM PARTS OF THE COUNTRY AND WITH RECENT PASSING OF THE APPROPRIATE AGE OF MARRIAGE TO BE NINE YEARS OLD, OUR CHILDREN ARE SET FOR A HOPELESS FUTURE. HELP US PLEASE,EVERYONE…WRITE TO THE U.N, PRESIDENT OBAMA, HUMAN RIGHTS ORGANIZATIONS. PLEASE HELP US SAVE OUR LITTLE GIRLS.
IF WE DO NOT GET OUTSIDE HELP, THE HOPELESS GOVERNMENT OF OUR PEOPLE WILL CARRY ON WITH BUSINESS WHILE INNOCENT CHILDREN ARE DEHUMANIZED AND CONDEMNED TO A PERPETUAL EXISTENCE OF SORROW.
THANK YOU ALL.
I sat crouched at a corner of the room… With my arms circled around my folded knees.
Another stream of tears rolled effortlessly down my cheeks as I relived the experience.
I could still feel his fingers like the gentle slithery movements of a snake as he caressed my body.
I closed my eyes….If only I could shut out the images…
But No…. They were there… Refusing to leave…They came with such vivid clarity!
Images of flailing arms … Fighting to keep away the evil that loomed above me.
I remembered trying to scream… But I couldn’t hear the sound of my own voice.
Randomly the images came, in no defined order. I recalled a struggle to retain my underwear as groping hands determined to take them off…
The sound of a dress being torn…
Then I remembered the slap! Like a thunderbolt, the impact had gone through my whole…
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As I write this, I reminisce about the pregnancy and the day I gave birth to them and I smile broadly with gladness in my heart.
Six times I’ve embarked on this journey, the fifth brought forth two babies. I remember the day I got the news. The vomiting was out of control and my doctor suspecting something, ordered a scan. The cold gel hit my belly and I frowned as the technician casually said, “Oh… that’s the reason, there are two of them in there!”
On hearing that, I burst into tears! The poor technician panicked and confused, began to comfort me. “It won’t be so bad dear, it’s hard being a single mom but people are kind and will help. Twins bring out the best in many, you’ll see”. She thought I was crying because I was a single parent overwhelmed with the prospect of twins. I laughed and assured her I would be fine but gave the reason why.
She didn’t know my tears were out of fear for the battle which lay ahead. You see, I suffer from hyperemesis when pregnant. This means from the first month to the day I give birth, I vomit and hardly keep anything down. I just could not imagine the double portion of torture sure to ensue soon, hence the reason for my tears folks.
She laughed and apologized, reassuring me perhaps fate would be kinder this time. The ER in Central Middlesex Hospital in North London was buzzed that morning. Everyone excited about the mother of four who just found out she was carrying twins. They were excited and curious to see my husband’s reaction when given the news.
When the time came, a nurse hurried into my cubicle with flushed rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes announcing he was here.
“Let me tell him, let me tell him please” she begged.
I smiled and nodded. She dashed off immediately and in about a minute, I heard his laughter, “Oh my gawd! hahahaha…you are kidding me! Babes, Babes, are you there?”
This was his response and he ran to me. Horrified, I observed him angrily. What’s with the joy, I wondered, he’s not the one who will carry this weight the next eight months is he?
My poor hubby the enthusiast! Nothing ever brings him down. He cheered and praised God, as always making positive pronouncements in my favor and savoring the joy of the news.
Our lives went back to normal, whatever normal was for us and my journey began.
Weeks of barely eating and constant vomiting ensued. The routine was two weeks home and one week in the hospital to be hydrated, so continued my so-called normal life.
I still had to be mom to four other kids; hubby worked and did what he always did whenever we are pregnant, take over some of my duties as best as he could while I struggled with the rest.
Poor man! He ran from pillar to post and in between, had to listen to my cries and complaints. The days grew longer and as usual, I began to adjust. Not only was I caught in this web of misery called hyperemesis, I also happen to be one of those women who spit excessively when pregnant, I mean every other minute.
Many women of African or Caribbean origin will tell you how disgusting and tiring this thing is. I can’t emphasis enough, just how humiliating it is to spit on the roadside. No matter how discreet you are; people still see you and frown in disgust.
Little do they realize you are expelling bile or something I can only describe as saliva solution mixed with the most bitter herbs. Yes! That’s that how gross bile tastes. Who would want to swallow this? if you do, you vomit even more.
To save myself from angry stares and sometimes confrontation from total strangers, I made myself The Spit Bin. A small darkened plastic container with a lid which I carried around in my purse and whenever spitting called, I simple opened and spat.
I still got disgusting looks from complete strangers,but I didn’t mind too much, if only they knew.
The technician was right, fate was indeed kinder to me. Turned our the twins pregnancy was the best I ever had so far. Yes all the usual things were there, but by the fifth month, I began to eat and keep food down…some of the time. I still vomited everyday, sometimes two or three times within the day, but I this time I was able to eat everything I laid my eyes on.
By the seventh month, my belly had grown so big, you could see it way ahead before the rest of me emerged, but strangely enough I did not gain too much weight.
My youngest child at the time was only two but my little man was so independent, I did not have to worry about him. He would only cuddle up to me at bed time. Once I put him down, he would rub my belly and say “Baby” and I would smile and reply, “Yes Obi, two babies”.
At exactly thirty eight weeks on July 19th 2002 at twelve ten p.m., I went into labor. The first baby came at 1:05 pm, and 7 minutes later her sister came at 1:12pm. I was told they were big for twins, weighing 6.7lbs and 6.8lbs respectively.
My babies were so cute! Little bodies covered in amniotic fluid. I looked in awe as though I had never seen babies before. Amidst the buzz in the delivery room, all two of every professional present congratulated me and they all circled around my babies.
The rest I’ll leave for another time. The only regret I have is allowing myself be caught up in my crazy excited mother-in-law’s joy as she gave them traditional names as done in their culture. Each baby has six names and stupidly, I allowed the council registrar put all six names on their birth certificates. How was I to know that years later this single action would come bite me in the butt?
The time came to get their Social security cards; this was when the biting began, how do you put in all six names? I’m happy to say after many weeks of mix ups and personal interviews and sworn affidavits, Homeland Security eventually decreed my girls were not impostors and six separate children. They got their social security numbers.
So back to today, I can’t believe how much they’ve grown. Still very much attached to each other as they were in my womb; like letters A and B, numbers 3 and 4; they take life together, hand in hand, one after the other.
It’s been a joy watching them grow and today, as has been on other birthdays, I find myself reliving their journey so far.
So with a heart full of joy and gratitude, I thank the heavens and wish them a very happy birthday. May my eyes continue to witness glory and goodness in you two girls and may all the joys and wonders of childhood be yours to cherish as long as time permits.
All we can do is grow older. Live as children still, while you can.
FOR MY GIRLS, TAI AND KENNI WITH MUCH LOVE.
LET’S TAKE A STEP BACK AND TAKE ANOTHER LOOK ON THE LAW…
Our responsibility is to our world,but it begins with us first.
THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH AMERICA,IN AMERICA.WE MUST MAKE IT RIGHT.
This morning, I woke up to this. Like many, many people within and without the black community, I followed this case intently and had (continue to have) definite opinions on them (the justice of those opinions is another matter) and, like many, I received the news not with anger or frustration but a sort of quiet sadness that is difficult to explain. I’m going to try, though, in the hopes that I can share some insight into what this case, and this verdict, mean for communities of colour in and outside the United States.
I wasn’t present when George Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin, so I don’t know what transpired. I cannot peer into George Zimmerman’s soul, so I don’t know what he was thinking or with what intent he followed Martin down the street. What I do know is what it’s like to be a Trayvon Martin. To be…
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AN INCREDIBLE URGE TO SHARE THIS WITH FRIENDS,FAMILY AND ALL THAT IS LIFE, FOR INDEED WE ARE BUT THE FRUITS OF LOVE.
I know there are times in life when everything seems bleak and tomorrow holds nothing but fear and apprehension. I also know there are two ways of looking at life; negative and positive. I have found myself so many times confronted with situations which not only overwhelm, but leave me almost breathless. I never could see beyond the present. Tomorrow always did come and I have lived through dire times and eventually the situation does reach its peak, but never breaks me.
Lately I am beginning to learn a new side of life—the shaded area. An area often dreaded and hardly embraced, but surely the right path to take. I have learnt not to be afraid to walk this path. I know my flaws are many, and in my heart I harbor incidents and occurrences, which I am yet to find the courage to voice to any living soul. I have questioned, judged and condemned myself as guilty and for years I have struggled to live with this judgment.
I have discovered that everything is not so dark after all. Better still, as long as I have life and live see each day, my chances of living, instead of existing, increases. I have cried many lonely tears, even in the midst of love and support, but I’m slowly realizing my healing can only come when I stare truth and honesty in the face: accepting myself the way that I am…flawed and human.
There is no hope in promises and declarations; no reason to uphold a longing and illusion of what I yearn for, while what I yearn for is at variance with my true self and beliefs. Wisdom therefore, is slowly seeping into my psyche and subconscious and I am feeling alive gradually.
Love is a beautiful thing, but I must understand love in its entirety.
Love in its entirety does not evoke or induce agony. It may stir pain, but that pain is a pathway towards understanding it. Love teaches wholesomeness, and must be practiced and lived daily, regardless of circumstance.
Love reduces the ego of self and promotes the comfort and tolerance of the others. Love does not seek truth, because love is truth. But truth differs for different people, for various reasons. However, love does demand honesty. I find these new realizations a tad overwhelming, but they are helping me chart a course to a better enriched and fulfilled life.
Emotional maturity comes with a price, that price is brutal honesty. This is the stuff true diehard love-freaks are made of, permitting me to see my life in rather clear colors and now I find love somewhat depressing! Lol.
Growing up is tough and is taking its toll on me, but in the end I’ll thank myself for having enough love and courage to accept that I deserve nothing but the best of everything. I mean it in every sense of the word without ambiguity or regret.
That which my heart longs for the most, is also that which I must be willing to let go of, if it’s ever to be mine. Nothing physical should be powerful enough that it consumes me to the point that I become negatively, distracted, not even LOVE!
So I accept this new growth, while I expect more change and enlightenment, because the idea is to move one level ahead, once the reason for my lack or loss is overcome. In other words, I am because of love, and now I must portray love as superior over all else.
I finally realizing that no one else but me is responsible for my happiness, jolted me. it also defined my very existence since I became an adult responsible for my words and actions. It’s a humbling feeling and it’s also calming at the same time, knowing that anxiety and restlessness have disappeared even though nothing in my life has physically changed or become better, rather there has been a shift in my rationale. Most people in life think in the here and now and why not? After all one can only attest to the physical things the mind and body is able to feel, touch, hear and taste.
There is however an entirely different existence many people would rather not acknowledge; many times those who do are either ridiculed or laughed to a scorn. This path I find myself on, leans far too much towards that ridiculed existence. A world where many times you don’t have the physical evidence to prove things which you know to be truth and whole—but you still manage to find the right words and examples to use to clarify your notions or behavior.
Like this ridiculed existence, love hovers in that interim of evidence. Many believe the showing is in the proof; but this in my opinion and understanding does not ring true with Love.
Love shown is many times real and good enough, but what happens when spirits fall and hearts are broken? What happens when the sunlight in the love fades and all that is left is a memory of either what was good or the agony of pain and regrets?
This is where this other existence comes into play. The realization that love remains and continues as long as the heart is willing to allow it foster. The affections and affiliations attached to a person or object might be dimmed, but love itself lives on. This is the rare quality which love alone possesses. It’s like a tap root of some sort, that becomes shriveled after a drought and without life. Cut it out and put in the ground again and in a while it blooms once more.
These are my acknowledgements in my new-found realizations that the very essence of life is in the unseen. When the thought fosters and the eagerness to hold on to it quickens, then nothing can dull the willing spirit.
I’m learning to live with my imperfections and welcome them as part and parcel of me. I’m beginning to see them not as evil, but reasons why the good in me is seen clearly. Together with all that is me, we live in this physical flesh and slowly, it too no longer has the zeal to overwhelm me. Like the two faces of God, my good and flawed self, live in harmony and if any conflicts do arise; I deal with it. I no longer have the attitude of divide and conquer. If I cut away the foot because my big toe hurts, what becomes of the rest of me that is reliant upon that foot to work? Or perhaps not just cutting the foot, how about I cut off the big toe?
In order words, there is no reason to go to that extreme…whatever be the case, the body bears its afflictions until such a time it deems it can no longer bear, then the consequences of actions are welcome without remorse.
I am because of love…Love thought me out, love made me, love nurtured me, love groomed and carved me out. This same love lives in me and will continue even after I’m long gone.
- Do SoulMates Exist? Sounds outdated even to ask – let’s redefine this! (uptownsparkle.wordpress.com)
- God is a fat big liar (andreadiscovering.wordpress.com)
- Unhealthy “Obsession” (jazponders.wordpress.com)
- blogging about love (bloggingaboutnothinginparticular.wordpress.com)
- Sunday’s Reflection (herladypinkrose.wordpress.com)
- What Pain, Indeed? (kdaddy23.wordpress.com)
- Love and my life (orangeguillotine.wordpress.com)
” I too want to hear my voice loud and clear say yes! I love me because I’m truly awesome just the way that I am. That way this creation you talk about will begin and everything will not seem so much better than what we have,see or do.”