a cooking pot and twisted tales
Thoughts and Tales…A Lifestyle Blog with a Zing.
my tomorrow came
when today arrived…
for yesterday I waited
on a day that I hadn’t seen…
hoping that if and when
it does come around…
there will be the light of change.
my tomorrow is here
yet my thoughts ain’t truly there…
for how can it be
when in fragmented pieces…
I watch…
the broken circles
of many yesterdays
I have been on a continuous learning journey and have learned a couple of new things recently. As a matter of fact, it has been a conscious choice to ensure that I keep learning and improving myself day by day.
Late last year, I started a TikTok account and had to learn how to use the app, how to create posts which are different from my usual blog posts and how to grow my account. I have also been taking an intensive Business Analyst course, and learning stuff like how to use Visio, Figma, Jira confluence, creating functional and non-functional requires, user case story, swim lane etc. It hasn’t been a cheap or easy venture, but I know that it will yield sufficient dividends in the long run.
In-between that, I have taken a life-coaching course, teaching myself how to create a book cover and do all the necessary works to publish my 3rd poetry book myself without outsourcing it – because I want to use it as a learning opportunity. It is painstakingly slow since I have to learn a whole lot of stuff by scratch, but I have come to realize that it is not always about rushing to reach the finishing line but to enjoy the process getting there.
I feel far more alive when I am learning new things and viewing things from a broader perspective. I sincerely believe that every day, it is imperative to push ourselves to learn something new and that for as long as one is alive, we should be life-long learners.
I know that bloganuary is over, but I have every intention to finish the outstanding writing prompts that I missed out on. I fell into a mental funk which came unannounced and that caused some derailing on my part. However, I will not allow a depressive state to dictate my life. The need to rise above adversity keeps me going.
So many songs and the poems that I wrote speak to me, but a song that speaks to me so deeply is ‘we thank thee by Jim Reeves. It is not just a song but a wake up call and a prayer that my dad played on our Grundig every morning in our house throughout my growing up years. For me, this songs brings back countless strong emotions and takes me back home to when my dad was still alive, the smell of my mothers cooking, the morning routines and bustle getting ready to go to school, to go to church etc.
It embodies the wholesomeness of my family, of laughter and joy, of tears, of meals shared and plans for the future. It takes me back to my dad before Cancer, of the gentle rays of the early morning sun peeping in through the living room windows, of neighbours voices floating in through the windows, of Sunday Jollof rice and meat.
In this song, there’s so much stored for me. It became etched into the blueprint of my life from a tender age and I will love it till the day that I die.
From my early years in life I loved performing for an audience, either as being a part of a dance group, drama group, debate team or modelling. These are the things that I have a natural flair for and as such, my dream job oscillated from wanting to be a newscaster, a writer cum journalist, to being an actress or a runway model – my mind never conceived anything else beyond these interests. Unfortunately, back then at home, these professions were not seen as lucrative and sadly, was perceived as a profession held only by wayward women.
In Nigeria in the 80’s, 90’s we had a few notable female newscasters and journalists who spoke impeccable English while broadcasting the National news and I used to admire them a lot and also imitated them from time to time. As I grew old enough to take part in school dramas and the likes, I grabbed the opportunities that came my way to be on stage and even fancied pursuing Theatre arts or Communication Arts but my mother was not for it at all for valid reasons. At that time, the acting/movie industry in Nigeria was still at its fledgling stage and she believed that I would become a starving actress, besides the fact that there were unsavoury stories of women having to sell themselves short to get a role in any movie.
In my university days, I modelled part-time for small fashion houses, calendars and advertorials to augment my pocket money and last took part in a fashion show in 2018. I guess if bigger opportunities had come my way, who knows, maybe I would have embraced them. These interests of mine were not considered as serious professions and were looked down on back in the days, but with each generation, as the time changes, societal views change as well.
During my growing up years, in most Nigerian homes, they were coveted professions that parents chose for their children, Doctor, Pharmacist, Engineer, Lawyer and maybe nurse or teacher for those who are unable to fit into the other ‘chosen professions.’ I ended up studying Law since my language proficiency was considered excellent and my mama felt that my oratory skills would serve better in the law court. To cut a long story short, I have never been in a courtroom nor worked as a lawyer. My career path has vacillated over the years, however, these days, I find that my writing and speaking skills are being used more and more especially nowadays that we have social platforms that offers us the opportunity the embrace our latent skills.
Who knows, one day I may still venture down on the runway strutting my matronly stuff or on the stage acting my heart out, though I spend more time these days writing and teaching others.
At present, I live in a flat in a block of apartment – a skyscraper – here in Dubai and I can pinpoint a dozen things or more that irritate me about it, though I have adjusted and learnt to make do.
Given that I grew up in a spacious bungalow spread out on its own compound with a large balcony and that through the years I have lived in either a duplex, townhouse or condo which usually comes with more living space, an apartment can be a squeeze.
My biggest hang-up is that there’s insufficient space to express myself and to set up my personal workspace, which kind of impacts on my ability to create the ambience that I want my workspace to have, to get into the zone and to focus on what I am doing. I love being surrounded by nature and growing plants/herbs, unfortunately, the heat of the Middle-East and lack of sufficient space does not make it conducive to go as green as I would love. Anyhow, I have indoor plants scattered around the house.
There is one central AC control which means that it is difficult to regulate the temperature in different parts of the house, so if it’s cold, it’s cold everywhere and vice-versa.
The AC ducts also brings in aromas/whiffs of our neighbours cooking or the smell of burning incense and a lot of times this happens in the middle of the night and being a light sleeper, heavy smells of garlic, fried onions, curry, spices, incense or what have you simply wakes me and keeps me up at night.
It is not all negative to say the least and over the years of living here, I have managed to create a cozy home for me and my family, but I do look forward to a time in the near future when I will leave the concrete jungle and return to something more spacious, private and surrounded by nature.
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One fear that I battled with for a long time and can finally look back and say, I came, I saw and I conquered’ was the fear of being my true, authentic self. As a young black African woman, I was raised in a predominantly patriarchal society and have had to fight hard to get where I am today and still fighting. Sadly, experience and living in other parts of the world has shown me that this situation persists from place to place albeit in different forms. These situations used to bother me a lot.
As a young black girl, I was so concerned with not creating any ripples, making waves and rocking any boat, that I waited far too long to start speaking up for myself. I endured bullying and physical assault, that I thought that if I suffered in silence that it would stop and if I worked twice as hard to succeed in all that I do, that one day all of my hard work would magically pay off and my success would announce itself. I found out soon enough that I couldn’t suffer through such situations and had to learn to fight back any way I could.
Now living and working in the UAE, I have fought hard with prejudice, fought with not making myself small to make others feel comfortable and unthreatened by my presence as a vocal, audacious, confident and proud black woman. I have had to deal with various ranges of microaggressions and a lot of times pulled far more than my weight in order to prove my value. It hasn’t been a smooth journey learning never to think less of myself because of my skin colour and how others may perceive me and to stand tall in the face of such adversities – especially when everyday reality tries to assert the opposite.
I have learnt how to overcome these obstacles, how not to lower my standards and pride myself on how my experiences have helped me to become a connector of people, places, positivity and possibilities.
These days, I prioritize myself outside of work and above most things. Over the years, I’ve learned that at the end of the day, places might change, teams will change, projects and jobs will end but my mind and my body are the only constants that I have and that taking care of every part of all that concerns me is critical to getting through the storms of life. I had to learn to reset my relationship with self-care and wellbeing and I no longer allow work, or anyone dictate my mental, emotional and physical wellbeing. This shift in paradigm has given me the energy to take control of my situation where and when I can and not to be fixated with how others see me. I no longer look for permission to be me nor do I seek other people’s validation to be authentically true to myself.
Without thinking twice, doing the laundry is not a chore that I am fond of. Thankfully, washing machines are in existence and we can cut ourselves some slack.
I remember my growing up years back home, we washed tons of clothes by hand and it was not a task to sneeze at. Every Saturday morning, would find me seated on a stool in the backyard of my parents big compound, with a big basin filled with soapy water and bales of clothing in the cloth basket waiting for my fond attention. As I didn’t know better then, it was absolutely fine and helped in domesticating me and my siblings – except my brothers who always tried to escape washing their clothes and would rather go through their entire wardrobe till there’s no clean stitch left to wear.
Now that I recall, I think my mother wasn’t fond of washing either and as soon as she could lay her hands on a top-loading washing machine that had been imported by a friend of the family, she quickly committed her finances into acquiring one. We were elated! We felt like the bourgeoisie and that we had climbed a rung on the social ladder. Not only did we have a landline telephone, we now had a washing machine to boot! I was the envy of my friends for a long time to come.
Fast-forward to my adult years, one of the household gadgets that I promised to buy myself was a washer-dryer as I didn’t want to spend valuable time washing tons of clothing items. My husband is still has an old-fashioned approach towards washing especially his inner whites as he believes that the machine does not do justice to the job. I made it understood that from the get-go when we got hitched 23 years ago, that ‘moi’ cannot be doing that handwashing.
He wasn’t particularly enthused at my obstinacy, but I stuck to my guns, fed him good meals, kept him happy in bed, gave him beautiful children, supported him in many other ways, kept our home warm and welcoming. I wasn’t about to start something that I knew I wouldn’t be able to sustain doing and I refuse to do things that I will only do reluctantly and grumble about. We came to an understanding pretty quickly and living happily ever after, thanks to the laundry machine.
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As treasure connotes something truly special, my lost treasures are intangible and irreplaceable. Three people come so easily to mind: my dad, my mother-in-law and my brother-in-law.
Death can be so final even when it comes slowly like the way my dad and my mother-in-law lost their battle with Cancer after a valiant battle. It was a heart wrenching and intensely difficult time for our family and what amazes me till today is how graceful these two humans were in the face of such debilitating illness. I loved and still love my dad to bits and his passing hit me really hard. Just writing this makes my heart flood with sadness. I have grown to bear the pain of his loss and to ruminate in the beautiful memories that he left behind and appreciate him over and over again. I think one of my regrets is not telling him often how much I loved him and that my kids did not have enough opportunity to really get to know him. He was a gentleman and a good man. I believe that I was in a state of denial and had kept hoping that God’s mercy would prevail and that he would win the battle with cancer. Till his last moments I stayed hopeful, but death robbed me.
My mother-in-law and I grew close especially considering how much my husband adored her. She was not just the matriarch of the family, but became my ally as well. Her name was Grace and indeed she was such a graceful and beautiful soul. Although her passing wasn’t sudden as she fought breast cancer for several years but her last day with us is forever etched on my mind as I was there in her last moments when she transitioned.
You truly never understand the enormity of what you have until you have lost it, more especially when the loss is sudden. My brother-in-law’s passing was like a bolt of lightening. It was a rude shock. He drowned. Till this moment, the circumstances surrounding his demise in Toronto is still unclear to us. He was quite a gregarious young man and his absence is felt.
If I could turn back the hands of time, I would love to have my family members back and relive all the beautiful moments with them. These people were gems and to know them was simply to love them.
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My family is going through a very difficult financial time right now that each day is burgeoned with struggle. Each waking moment comes inundated with its own portion of challenges that goes beyond just getting through the day.
There are times when it’s truly hard to say that all is well when the struggle is tedious.
I go through bouts of depression and mental stress these days that I lose sleep and some days are much harder than others. Sometimes, I literally feel as if the quagmire of life is bent on swallowing me and I struggle to drag myself out of the funk.
Now as I grow older, I understand better and empathize with those who become overwhelmed with life and seek easy ways out of their pain. Sometimes, we are in so much unseen
pain that the person right next to us does not even grasp the magnitude of our internal struggles.
Most times, these pains are not only in the mind, they affect other aspects of our body and who we are and a lot of times they are triggered by events out of our control. I am trying not to focus too much on the problems but to redirect my energy on possible solutions as focusing on the problems only amplifies them. I am also repeating the ‘serenity prayer’ to help me keep calm and absorbing the words
If you find it in your heart and with any change to spare, you can support me in your own little way. Shalom ♥
Getting back to blogging, I have found myself at a certain loss. It feels so familiar yet strange, because like everything that changes over time, a lot seems to have happened in blogosphere. I feel like a newbie, albeit with some jaded sense of know-how. I am tip-toeing around my blog trying to find my way once again, afraid to click on unknown features just in case I break something – not literally, but you get what I mean.
I recall that when I started blogging I could plug away for hours on end and derived such joy from putting my thoughts in writing. The joy has not gone though it has ebbed a bit. The hours to plug away on the keyboard has gone with the vagaries of life, since bills don’t pay themselves. Back then, I jumped in with such gusto and gumption and decision to make it work; to eke out a living doing something that I truly love. Things got in the way, life happened so much so that it made me question my trueness.
I have questioned my authenticity and second-guessed my passion for written and spoken word. I have found myself comparing and wondering if I am really true to my art. If I really want to be a writer as passionately as I had supposed? Because, as we are told, if you want something badly enough, you will do what needs to be done and you will find the time to make sure that it works out. It may sound romantic being a hungry, starving artist, but the rude awakening and harsh reality of life makes such aspirations a near impossible feat to achieve in this part of the world and in most parts I daresay.
NOT paying your bills can land you behind bars in my neck of the woods. As valuable as words may be, mine are yet to land me that goldmine and to present the peace of mind that money can buy or rather being able to sleep without your landlord hounding you for rent. I derail.
I have had to revamp my mind. To remember that often times the key notes of our life’s story might be out of tune for a bit, but once our fingers glide over the keys, like the gentle caress of a cherished old lover, we kindle with familiarity.
My thoughts are on how the blogging field has changed though my keyboard remains the same. How there are now many icons, bells and whistles here and there. I almost feel as if I should enroll in learning how things work here once again. Sadly, the course is paid for and I most certainly can’t afford such finesse. What do you think? Is going to WordPress University a worthwhile investment or do you think that I can find my way just by tinkering around?
a cooking pot and twisted tales 