WEATHER TALKS

When folks do not know what to say to you and they really want to say something, they talk about the weather.
 

I was returning from my mailbox this evening and met one of my neighbours at the front of his apartment which is beside mine. Head clad in helmet, he was with another guy and they were tending to a bike. I hey-ed at them and they hey-ed back. As I held out my key to open the door, he asked a question about the weather. He asked if I knew whether the bad weather would end soon. In my head, I was thinking that the weather was not bad and that I did not watch the TV today and so had no idea of what the weather would be like the next day. I honestly did not know the right response to give him. Finally, I replied.

"I don't really know.... But I do hope it gets better soon."

"I hope so too, I really do." He said, with a chuckle.

As I walked in through my door, I remembered reading in books of how people talk about weather, then the whole scenario made sense. I simultaneously recollected how another young man, a worker in a hotel I was once lodged in, always mentioned the weather every morning he greeted me.
 

Ogun Ago. Ago War.

I remember. June 16 in 2005. It was a terribly bad day, a day that the devil collected water to drink. We were at the department and were waiting to receive a lecture when we sighted though the window a crowd of students, there was an unrest. Before we knew it, SUG excos were addressing us on the podium. Our lecturers had to send us home.

What happened? A student was reading in a class within the premises of a primary school at the same time some OPC (Odua People's Congress) members were having a meeting. I can't remember exactly what transpired between them and the student, but they started attacking the guy until they killed him. A riot ensued. Students filed to the king's palace in protest, but the king was on his people's side and even mobilised them to attack protesting students.

It was a tough battle between students and indigenes. Indigenes were going from house to house to drag out students to kill. Blood flowed. That Thursday evening, in my own hall, Bobagunwa, we all gathered together, confounded and scared stiff. I think we managed to pray. We heard gunshots from different angles. Later, we concluded we would all escape to the mini campus since indigenes were slaughtering students from house to house. But our landlord, Baba Ile Bobagunwa (pronounce it in Ijebu accent), bless his heart, pleaded with us not to go, that he would not let anyone enter the compound to attack us. The man was crying and praying. A few of my hall mates still went to the mini campus, though, but most of us stayed back at home. All along, we were in Tolulope​'s and Tosin's room. We afterwards dispersed to our different rooms.

That night, I closed my room's window. I usually left it open, but I was not going to take chances. Strangely, I slept peacefully without a single stir throughout the night and woke up at 7 in the morning I even cooked concoction and ate. When I stepped out of my room, some of my house folks were telling me they could neither sleep nor eat. That morning, I called home. It was funny they hadn't heard the news yet. We were three in my hall from our house in Abeokuta, our landlord's daughter and niece and myself. They also called home and their dad came to pick us.

When we were being driven home, we had to take the longer route. It actually was a route you don't usually take when going from Ago Iwoye to Abeokuta, but the usual route was besieged by the indigenes and we heard they were attacking anyone that passed that way. That day, I had an idea of what a war is like. Come and see students trekking enmasse from Ago Iwoye to Ijebu Ode. This is something you would never dream of doing on a normal day, trek from Ago to Ijebu Ode. We saw like four to five students with load on a motor-bike, not exaggerating, it was very bad. We all had to escape for our dear lives.

Several students died. Many parents lost their children to this war, some, all their children. A colleague who was my senior by a year in Geology was hacked to death. The school was closed for like three months before we resumed again.

 In all, I thank God for preserving our lives through the mayhem. Someone else will have a different story, I only shared my own experience.

YESTERDAY MORNING

Yesterday morning when I finished my shift, I had to arrange for an Uber cab online to get back home to the staff house. I normally trek ’cause the house is like 15-20 minutes from the office, but it was dripping and the thunders were raging. My cab arrived and I hopped in.

“Why do you look like my daughter? Are you my daughter?” went the driver.

I was amused; of course I knew he was joking. I replied I was not his daughter. Simultaneously he told his wife who he was on phone with that he had a passenger in his car that looks like Nwakaego. I could hear the woman’s voice from the loudspeaker. The name, Nwakaego, confirmed my suspicion that he was Nigerian. When I saw his name on the cab request page, I couldn’t be sure he was Nigerian because he bears Livinus, but when I entered his car and he spoke the first sentence, I knew he was my Naija broda and on mentioning Nwakaego, every doubt flew off. He asked if I was on night shift to which I replied yes. He asked which part of Nigeria I am from, I told him I’m Yoruba. He asked another question which was ambiguous. I could make from it that he wanted to know what I work as in my company or what I studied. I told him I studied Geology. Dazed, he looked back from the steering wheel.

“You, you don finish Geology?”

I smiled. “Sure. Since 2008, so I am not even a recent graduate.”

“Yeeh, and here I am thinking you’re like 21.” I smiled again. It’s so sweet to get people deceived with this cute baby look. At this point he had missed the turning to the staff house. I let him know and he blamed it on his garrulousness. He promised not to talk again when he drives. Anyway, it wasn’t too late as we found a way to connect back to the house through a parking a lot.

“Ngozi, wonders will never end. See the girl I told you look like Nwakaego, she was just telling me that she is a Geology graduate and I was thinking she is about 21….” Well, I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation as it was time for me to drop. I bade him farewell and entered the compound. I did enjoy his petty talks, especially his surprised look when he learnt I am not a fresh graduate.

Moments later in the house, I started looking for my second phone. I recalled I dropped it in my bag when I entered the cab. I knew I entered the cab with it and didn’t drop it. I rummaged through my backpack, brought out everything in there, even searched through the wrong places. I went back to the kitchen where I was cooking, searched and searched, searched through the closet, through the bathroom, everywhere, every unlikely place. No phone.

“What happened to my phone? I dropped it in my bag now.” I whimpered.

I searched through all the places I already searched through again. No phone. It’s just like my people will say, ‘Iwakuwa la n wa nnkan to sonu’. It means you look for lost things in the most unlikely places e.g. looking for a full bag under a mattress.

I tried calling it twice from my other phone. It rang. But then I remembered I had it set to silent. The only place I could trace it to was Mr. Livinus’ car, maybe it dropped on the car’s floor when I thought I was putting it in the bag. So, I contacted Uber’s customer care and they supplied me his number. I called him. He oohed and aahed that he had picked a few passengers since he dropped me and hoped no one picked it. He asked the passengers in the car at the time to check the seat and the floor if the there was any phone there. No phone. He promised to get across to me if he found it later. I thanked him and hung up.

I was distraught but kept telling myself it was not lost and I would find it, for even though this phone does ‘skon skon’ occasionally, it is still good, and then I had important stuff on it. I decided to switch to worship, as if I was not looking for any phone. As I worshipped, I’d stir out of bed once in a while and go back to the places I had searched. Then it occurred to me it might have dropped at the door when I was entering the house. I was by this time in my pajamas, but I couldn’t bother to change. I just criss-crossed my sleep-cover-cloth over it and went to the door. No phone still. I took a step farther to check the gate area. No phone. Then I decided to open the gate and look towards the direction where the car dropped me as the car didn’t enter the compound, I told Mr Livinus it was okay to drop me at the gate. All this while I was wondering how much of a sight I was in my sleeping clothes and cover cloth.

So I glanced towards the direction where I stepped out of the cab, and lo, there was my phone lying faceup. I quickly went over to pick it. It was there, no one had stepped on it, no car had crushed it, it only had drops of rain on it.

“Thank you sweet Holy Spirit. Thank you so much.” I chorused repeatedly. To say I was glad was an understatement. I was (and I am still) grateful.

He Who Began A Good Work In You

“AY, I heard a test will be conducted in a company tomorrow,” Uche, a friend, informed me. I asked for the name of the company, but he couldn’t get to pronounce the name properly. He tried describing where it is located, but it was no use, for though Trans Amadi was my regular route as a corper, yet I really never noticed any of the companies strung along its layout. I was always focused on getting to wherever I was going anytime I was in buses or taxis.

I had my compulsory national service in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. (In Nigeria, it is compulsory to serve the nation under the paramilitary body called National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) after graduating from the university or polytechnic. Fresh graduates are cross-posted all over the country to work wherever they will be assigned to for a year during which they get paid by the government and sometimes by the institution they are serving under.)

After passing out as a member of the corps in February 2010, I stayed back in Port Harcourt. I lived at the NCCF (Nigeria Christian Corpers Fellowship) Family House during service and since there is a provision for senior friends to put up at the family house after NYSC, I continued to live there after service. I had a hunch ever before I knew I would be serving in Rivers State that I would most likely stay back wherever I would serve. For this reason, I endeavoured to do all I could do to serve in my home church in Abeokuta between the time I graduated and the time I left home for youth service. I did not want to have any reason to look back and wish I had done more. The hunch was confirmed during my service year….

So, my friend, Uche, told me about the test and added that another friend who is a geofellow (we geologists call ourselves geofellows) had more information about the test. With time, my geofellow friend got back home and he gave me the full details. We were going to gatecrash the next day. That night, I picked a textbook I borrowed from another geofellow in the house, but couldn’t concentrate; you know that kind of preparation for a test that you will write the next day. I had no idea what sort of questions would be asked and could not even grasp anything, so I gave up. By the way, I never seriously looked into GMAT for once, because my plan was to start some stuff for myself and work for no one. Another funny thing was that my CV was not very ready. I was taking my time with the CV because I had thought I wouldn’t have to work for anybody, thus early in the morning before going for the test, I quickly went to Mother Cat to have the CV printed and then headed for the company’s base.

We were four that went from the family house. One of us had earlier dropped his CV with the security guys at the gate, so he was somehow eligible for the test, but the rest of us were gatecrashers. They already had the names of the test candidates in a sheet of paper and soon started calling them in. My people and I stayed on, hoping for the best. I went to stay at the very front, with the hope that God could use someone to open the gate for me. There were a lot of people and being a brief person with a giant of a guy behind me, I was constantly pressed against the gate. The noise was too much, the pressing continued, but I stayed put at the front. Then one of the security guards noticed the way I was being pressed and exclaimed in pidgin, “Make una no kill this girl for me na!” “Oga, abeg, tell them o” was my reply. But it wasn’t a problem for me; after all it was supposed to be the survival of the fittest. Everyone there wanted the job.

 Later, I saw the guard pointing in my direction as he spoke to another guard. A few minutes after that, he came to ask me where I was standing if I had my CV already submitted, I replied in the negative stating that would be my first time there. He went and returned, asking if I had my name already with them, I gave the same answer. Not too long after this, he called for me at the main gate, holding out a scrap, not a sheet, of paper for me to fill in my name. All this while, we had been at the front of the security cubicle. They let in the applicants from there. When he called me through the main gate, it wasn’t that he opened the main gate for me, he only handed the paper to me through that space between the gate’s hinge and the pillar supporting it. I wrote my name, wrote for my fellows from the house and for some others who begged me to. But I knew the man was particular about me. He collected the paper and left. By this time I had lost my position at the forefront, so I had to stand at the back trying at the same time to monitor what was going on. In little or no time, my new friend, the security guy, came calling for me again through the main gate. He told me to add my course. I did so and did for others too. But still, I knew this man was particular about me as he was hurrying me up when I was writing for others. He came back the third time and asked me to include my phone number. I did that, did for others and returned the paper to him.

“Where is that girl?” It was the guard calling from the security cubicle. I quickly found my way close to the front and when he saw me, he opened the gate wide for me, in full view of everyone, and let me enter. No one else was allowed in except one other guy. It was like a dream. When I entered the compound, I thought, “Lord, the way I entered this place today, it’s like You have given me the job already.” The test came in two batches with ten candidates in each batch. I was in the second batch and we were twelve. The other guy that the guard let in and I made the group twelve. We had to wait under close supervision in a room for the first batch to finish their test before we would take over and write ours. I learnt later they had had the test conducted two previous Thursdays in the same manner—two batches and ten applicants in each batch.

While waiting for our test, it was like the other guy that the security man allowed in kept going out and coming in. At a point, he did not close the door properly when he left the room. The security man, not my friend, in charge of us got mad and asked him to leave the premises. Na so bros start dey beg, oga security no gree o. He asked him who let him in, they went to meet his colleague together, that was the last we saw of our bros. My heart was in my mouth all along, because I was an extra too. But the Lord favoured me, the guard did not bother me at all.

Fast forward, it was our turn to write the test. Contrary to my expectation, the test was set on five subjects—Geology, Physics, Electricity, Chemistry and Mathematics. I did what I could and left the rest. I had the opportunity to cheat, because the lady that was supposed to invigilate us did not care at all, but I was able to resist the temptation. Basically, I wouldn’t ask anything from anybody, but the urge to help my fellow candidates was great as they kept calling my name. I would just look at them, smile and shake my head to pass my message across that I could not help them. Afterwards, I had to apologise to one of them that it was against my principle, he was not offended, he understood.

On my way home, I was pondering on all that had transpired and about two blocks away from the family house, this song, “He Who Began A Good Work In You” coursed through my mind and I nodded to the Lord.

“AY, I heard you guys went for a test today and you were singled out and favoured.” That was Musa, another friend, he was serving with Batch B. The news had gone ahead of me to the family house.

“Congratulations!” He added. I smiled and recounted the story to him, adding that everything still depended on if God would let me have the job or not. But he insisted that God had given me the job already.

Barely two weeks after the test, I was called for interview. The interview was like a chat. It wasn’t like that from the beginning, though. In fact, I would have been excused if not for a lady that peeped in to deliver a message. That changed the tune of the interview as one of my interviewers asked me what was my view on paying taxes. I replied paying taxes is the right thing to do.

“Even when NEPA is not giving you power and the roads are bad?” My answer was still the same.

“Are you giving me these answers because you are in an interview and this is what you’re expected to say?”

“No sir, it’s one of the principles I live by.”

Other questions followed. Could I stay on the sea for six months and not be homesick? My naïve answer to that was yes. In reality, it is a no-no, but I had no idea what having to stay on a rig was like then and was enthusiastic. They told me there would be caterers on the rig, different kinds of food and a lot of cakes.

At the mention of cakes, I burst out, “Oh, I love cakes!”

“Oh, you do?” they replied laughing.

“Do you bake cakes also?” One of them (who was going to be my boss, but I didn’t know then) asked.

I replied yes. He asked if I would not leave the company after three years to start a catering company. I laughed and said no, that I could always manage that with my job. The interview ended and I went home.

While I was recounting how it all went to my “baby”, the person I handed over to in NCCF as Chief Usher, who is also my friend, there was a musical break on a TBN programme we were viewing on TV and the same song that crossed my mind the day I wrote the test was the song played during the break. I still put everything in the Lord’s hands. In the evening I went to visit a beloved family in another part of Port Harcourt, I spent the night there. That night in my dream, a very tall veiled man came to attack me in my dream with a razor blade which he held in his hand. I was very small beside him but I overpowered him in the name of Jesus and commanded him to go to sleep. He couldn’t hurt me with his weapon.

Sometimes in the morning, I received a call from the company to come for my medicals. That was when the dream I had made sense to me. When I didn’t know that I would be called the next day, the enemy had known and had tried to come before time to contaminate my system, but the Lord my God fought for me. This reminded me again of another dream I had before I was ever called for the interview. I was in our former house at home. We used to have a long bench in the passage under which we kept different things ranging from yams to slippers. I was squatting beside the bench when a hag approached me demanding that I sold her plantains. I told her I had no plantains to sell, and actually I didn’t know I had any plantain. She bent down and dragged out from under the bench a bunch of big plantains, most of which were already ripe. She gave me a very dirty and worn 100 naira note and went away. When I awoke, I didn’t remember the dream immediately, but when I did, the Lord gave me the understanding and I knew that she came to shortchange me of some ripe harvests. I started praying immediately collecting back my plantains. I did not stop praying until I was sure in my spirit I had recovered what she took and gave her stupid money back to her. Definitely, the plantains she took was the job and I probably would never have been called at all if I had taken the dream for granted.

I discovered after I resumed work that out of the ten people called for the interview, only three of us were chosen and I was the only lady. I resumed work on April 2^nd because April 1^st was Easter Monday that year. This was barely two months after my passing out parade from NYSC.

It was all like a dream to me. I kept asking myself, “Is this how levels change, just like that?” I need to add that my first airport and airplane experience was on my job and all my journeys outside the shores of Nigeria have been via work assignments and trainings.

************************************************

When I entered into the year 2012, I had no idea I would be leaving the country before the year’s end. But I remember I asked after some female colleagues from another company on the rig and was told they were on short term assignments outside the country. One was sent to Morocco, another to the US and the third to another country. I missed them and at the same time I wished for such an opportunity to be on assignment outside the country for a few months. I’d been travelling out of the country for trainings before then, though, but our trainings last for a maximum of one month. I only wished, I didn’t pray, because it sounded like something too big to pray about and forgot it all. In April, my boss called me and asked if I would like to join a programme in my company at the head office in France, the implication was that I would be living in France while the programme lasted and by the nature of the programme, I would only be allowed to come home after being away for a stretch of six months. He added that I should think about it as he did not want me to cry on his neck later about missing home. I prayed-thought about it and I gave him my affirmative response. That was how the processing started. I travelled to France in November, 2012.

Today I am in the US, with the same company and I didn’t lobby for being here either, God did it Himself, that’s a story for another day. Incidentally, I came to the US at about the same time my former boss in Nigeria got transferred to the US as the ops manager. I must say this that it is not that everything has been perfect and smooth, of course there have been a lot of tough times, but the Lord has been my succour through it all.

I know that where I am is a place to pass through, so I am enjoying it while it lasts, I have a bigger picture which will definitely come to pass by God's grace.

I AM BEAUTIFUL

There was a time in my life it was difficult for me to accept that I was beautiful. In my heart of heart I knew I was, but I longed to hear people tell me so. People said so sometimes, but I was not satisfied. You know how it is that people don’t care to pamper you all around again because you are no longer a small girl that they would be singing ‘Fine girl’ for every now and then. I remember how I asked my younger sister one evening if I was beautiful, she said yes (I am laughing now at the memory, it wasn’t funny then), but I still had difficulty accepting that truth. Those days I would look into the mirror and rebuke my reflection, ‘Stop looking at me! You’re not even beautiful.’ Oh my God, I cringe at those actions now; I can’t imagine I actually said those mean things to myself.

Not believing that I was beautiful was not enough; it was difficult for me to see beauty in others. A lot of times when I saw another lady for the first time, the thought that would ring in my mind was, ‘She is not fine.’ But it got to a point that the Lord brought my wrong to my face and I realised I had been in error thinking others were not beautiful. I also realised through God’s word that I was fearfully and wonderfully made and that when the Lord made me, He said I was good. So I started confessing positively. I would look into the mirror and consciously reverse all the horrible things I used to say to myself. I would talk about how beautiful I was and also use the word of God. Sometimes I would feel like bursting into tears but I did not give up.

Those days, it was a common phenomenon for mirrors, especially car mirrors and windows, to ‘abuse’ me. It was either my head was too big, too small or my eyes were looking somehow. I didn’t like looking into car mirrors because I was sure I would behold a horrible reflection. It was also difficult for me to accept a picture of myself was nice until days after I initially collected it from the photographer. But when I realised the enemy had been playing with my mind by bringing those self-depreciating thoughts and making them look like mine, I would ensure I looked at the mirror/window of every vehicle I passed by and would tell myself loudly how beautiful I was even if what I saw staring back at me was not encouraging. I would add that the image in the mirror just appeared that way and that it was not a true representation of my face. At the same time, I would allow myself to agree that a new picture was fine even when my mind was screaming no. I also started to consciously think beautiful of everyone I had been seeing as unbeautiful and every new person I met. Sometimes, I would be fighting verbally debunking the lies of the devil about anyone he tried to tell me was not fair to behold. I would tell him that even if the person did not have much good looks, all I know is that she was beautiful, final.

With time I stopped seeing warped images of myself in car mirrors and windows. So who was I seeing before? It was a psychological thing. I was seeing what I was seeing in my mind. Even though my face was beautiful, I couldn’t see the beauty (or wasn’t certain of it) until I worked on my mind and let go of those wicked thoughts. (Yes they are wicked, there is nothing kind about thinking of yourself as not beautiful. Some people ended up committing suicide because of struggles as these). Also, I started seeing beauty in everyone I met. Till today it is difficult for me to assert that someone is not beautiful or handsome. I try to find beauty in everyone and even if I cannot really see good looks in a person I overlook it and still see the person as beautiful. And yes, I am beautiful. I don’t need people to tell me the way I craved for it then. It is enough that I know what God my Father says about that, so if people don’t say so, ba wahala, no problem. The truth is people will not be telling you everyday how beautiful you are, so if you don’t get to a point where you know and are sure that you are beautiful, you will be frustrated because people don’t tell you so everytime. By the way, how many people have you yourself taken time to compliment on their looks?

To you my reader, you are beautiful too. If you are battling with accepting yourself as beautiful/handsome, I recommend the method I used for you, it doesn’t fail. Of course it will take a process of time. Find out from the Bible what God says about you. His words boost confidence more than any inspirational quote can because they are spirit and they are life.

I am not ashamed at all to share about some struggles I once had. I know a lot of people had these struggles and many still find it difficult to see themselves as beautiful.

Cheers!

Ayobami (PreciousAY)

Blessed Assurance

I was a bit indisposed this past week, menstrual cramps palaver. Thankfully, we were not drilling at the time and my absence would not be a problem, so I was excused from work. It was not easy because I had to roll to and fro on my narrow cabin bed trying different postures, while I groaned holding my tummy, that would help minimise the naughty pain. My colleague told the medic for me and he came with some pain relief drugs and a heating pad for my tummy. Pain is not good o, I still trust God for a pain free menstrual cycle and will not give up. (When I was finally okay, I was glad I could sleep anyhow I want without having to assume any special posture).
So on Saturday, I managed to work for six hours, but my colleague excused me when she saw I was still contorting my face. On landing on my bed, I worried. I worried because it was Saturday,  our emergency drill day. We hold emergency drills at 9 o' clock either in the morning or in the evening on Saturdays. I had no idea if it was scheduled for 9am that day. But then, I was calmed by His peace because I reasoned that God knew I would be in that state and would prefer to be lying down to rest because of the pain, as such He would have ensured ahead of time that the drill was fixed for the evening. And that even if it was to hold that morning, it would be delayed till evening time. With this in mind, I went to sleep. I didn't decree or declare anything, I knew it was a settled case. And that was it, my rest was not disturbed because the drill held in the evening when I was already strong.
Thinking upon this, I could relate it to a bigger matter like marriage. If God could go ahead of me to ensure that the schedule for a weekly drill on a drilling rig favoured me, how much more would He perfect everything that concerns my marriage. Although I am done from the school of worry on this matter of marriage, but this was a good analogy for me and I am much more at rest and encouraged in the Lord my God.
I hope someone else is encouraged too.