Sunday 15 June 2014

DADDY

This had been in my head since I awoke, but I had a busy day, so I couldn’t type it. By the way, it’s still Fathers’ Day here, so it’s not too late.
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When I was a five-year-old in Primary One, I didn’t know how to read properly. My father let me play during that session. But the long vacation between Primary 1 and Primary 2, he really coached me in those few months so that I learnt to read well both in English and Yoruba before resuming into Primary Two. While in Primary One, my classmates used to call me ‘olodo’ (‘olodo’ means a dullard), but in Primary 2, I became their boss in academics and they all curried my favour. I remember telling some of them when they would beg me for answers to some questions, “You people are now coming to me abi, sebi you tagged me ‘olodo’ in Primary 1?”

That was my dad’s efforts in manifestation. My dad was our (my siblings and I) first teacher. You dared not go to play when you were yet to finish the assignment he gave you. Who born monkey? He really drilled us. He taught my us to read both in English and Yoruba. He ensured we treated every exercise in all the Arithmetics, Mathematics and English textbooks we had at home. He monitored us through reading and answering questions in ‘First Aid In English’ and ‘Way To Success’ to solving problems in ‘Lacombe’. It wasn’t easy on us those days because we thought he was too harsh (though he was really too harsh at times). He made sure we read every night before we went to sleep. You couldn’t go to bed until nine, at least.

It always amuses me how some children these days take as final what their aunties or uncles (teacher) say, even when those teachers are wrong and their parents are correcting them. For me, it was the opposite. My dad always checked our notes everyday we returned from school.

One day in Primary 3, I missed some answers in an exercise. But there was a mistake in the correction my teacher put up on board, I didn’t know and copied it like that. My dad who always checked our notes after school saw the mistake and asked me to correct it. He was sure my teacher wasn’t aware of it. My mum saw the error too and confirmed it. The next day my teacher was not happy when she checked my note and she saw the alteration I made. I tried to explain to her that there was a mistake and my dad discovered it at home and asked me to correct it. She wouldn’t understand and reported me to my mum, who was a teacher in the same school. My mum tried to explain to her too. Well, whether she was satisfied or not, I knew my dad was right, and that she was wrong.

Another case was when my Primary Five class teacher marked a mathematical calculation wrong for me because I didn’t use the method she taught others during her extra-mural classes. (My dad thought it unreasonable for us to wait for lessons after school hours, so I wasn’t part of those classes. In actual fact, she didn’t teach us that topic in class, but I still answered the question and got the answer correctly because I was taught at home ahead of time by my father.) I went to show her my calculations in tears how I arrived at my answer imploring her to check my calculations, but she insisted I didn’t use the right formula. It hurt, but I let it go. I knew I was right, and that she was wrong.

Monday 2 June 2014

EIGHTEEN AND TWENTY-THREE

I got asked by someone at work today, "How old are you, 21?"
I looked at him, laughing with my eyes and heart, and replied, "I think I'm twelve years old".
"21?" He repeated and I gave him the same answer.
Then he said, "No, 12, no, maybe 18." I chuckled and told him I'm much older than that.
So he made another guess. "23, you must be 23."
"Oh, wow, so I look 18 and 23?" He said yes and asked if I'm married to which I answered no. I let him know I am much older than 23, but he wouldn't believe.
Well, I know, I actually look 18 and 23. =D =D =D

Sunday 1 June 2014

I TESTIFY


I took ill early this year before my birthday and I was really ill. It was the second time in a row as I was sick in November also. I went to the clinic to see a doctor and I had two injections shot into my bom-bom as the first dose of six. I was loaded with a barrage of drugs too. I got back home really weak and dizzy. I crashed on the bed but could hardly sleep. I was too weak. and alone at home because my sister and brother went to church. When I awoke from my hiccupy sleep, I knew I had lost some weight (within few hours) from the feel of the gown I was wearing (lepa to tun n lose weight!). My sister confirmed it when she returned from church, she said, "O ti ru o!" ("You've grown lean o!").

I needed to use the convenience, so I attempted to rise from bed to go. It was very difficult. I had to hold the walls for support. I managed myself to the door and held it open. At that point, I lost it. My eyes went blank and I couldn't see anything. I was sore afraid, I had never had such an experience in my life. My legs felt so weak and my body so light. But for the door knob which I was holding, I would have landed on the floor and fainted. I started confessing the Word and called out for my sister, who had gone earlier to get some water for me from the backyard. She rushed back in fear and led me to sit on the chair. My eyes were still blank. I kept on confessing the Word. Then, gradually, I came around and could finally see my surrounding. It was then I realized I was sitting on the chair close to the door. I literally lost consciousness. That night when I eventually went to the toilet, while I was there with my eyes closed, I saw two spirits. They were telling me my body was their house, but I told them it was a lie that it is Jesus' house because He has said that He stands at the door and if anyone will open the door, He will come in with His Father and with the Holy Spirit and they will live inside that person and I did that already.

Fast forward to the day I was going back to Port Harcourt from Lagos and we were praising God, my sister blessed God for my healing when I was sick. She recalled how, when she rushed in that night when I almost fainted, she saw a look in my eyes that reminded her of when our mum was dying. She confessed she was very scared to find me that way.

I look back and I'm grateful to the Lord my Healer, the One who keeps my soul from death. I will never forget His benefits. I remember them today and I testify. Praise the Lord!