Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Jonathan Presibombcy
"The Jonathan Presibomcy"
CredoWriters:Wakdok, Samuel Stephen.
No matter the highs or lows that Jonathan's tenure as the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria may score, posterity and eventually history will remember it for one thing; the era which ushered in bombs and bombings into the Nigerian mainstream. There may have been isolated cases of bombings in the country before the advent of his administration like the letter bomb which killed Dele Giwa during Babangida's junta or the scattered alleged NADECO bombs which eventually showed the imprints of General Abacha's hit men just to mention a few.
The height of it was the October 1st 2010 Independence day bombing blamed on the Niger Delta MEND. The dimension assumed an alarming rate when boko harram took the campaign of bombings from Maiduguri to the Police Headquarters in Abuja, The UN building in Abuja, the Christmas day catholic church bombing in Madalla and other states, the Kano mulitple bombings, the bombing of markets and even school. And just recently Gombe. This is not forgetting Bauchi, Yobe, Kaduna, Jos, Niger, Adamawa among others. The attacks on not only police stations but military barracks and installations in Abuja, Bauchi and Kaduna has made the picture very scary.
A brief analysis will show that Nigeria as at press time has the highest number of bombs going off in terms of frequency. Not even in Iraq, Pakistan or Afghanistan do bombs go off at such an alarming frequency. When the bombings started, the government talked tough and did little to the extent many believed the President and/ or his spokesmen had a template ready to respond to the next bombing.
Life especially in the North has become very dangerous and uncomfortable. Security check points have turned travelers and other road users into objects of stop and search. Churches which have become major targets now screen would be worshippers, schools, hotels, banks and other places have stepped up searches mostly manual which have resulted into massive hold ups,time wasting and are very inconveniencing.
Jonathan as an individual or President is not directly responsible for the advent of bombings in Nigeria since most of the issues preceeded his ascension to power, but his handling of the bomb crises especially in the early stage will be in focus when history judges his regime. As such his ability to succeed or his failure in arresting this ugly development will make or mar him.
Unfortunately, as Nigerians live in fear of bombings by a radical extremist fundamentalist group whose motive for Islamist agenda is brazen, Nigerians are also forced to face economic bombs from a regime that once signalled hope if the promise of Fresh Air was to be taken seriously. The inhuman manner the regime attempted to fully deregulate fuel and the manner albeit arrogance in which the fuel subsidy protest was handled was another bomb. The lies and whitewash that followed in the name of palliatives or the SURE program which was never meant to be but was just hurriedly put up to deceive angry Nigerians was yet another bomb. The deployment of troops in a peaceful Lagos against harmless civilians whose only sin was daring to organize peaceful rallies to protest the hike in fuel price was another bomb. The rot in the petroleum sector which the government has not shown serious sign of tackling but chose to pass the bulk to consumers is a big bomb.
The President has proven his critics right by now accepting and announcing that the SURE program can no longer work. The questions begging for answers was why the hurry in buying buses as palliatives when negotiations had not been concluded. How much of inflation will the buses have reduced? Will the government not provide infrastructure if there were no savings from subsidy? What of the cost of living which has spiraled since the hike in fuel price. How many Nigerians know that the price of Gas and Diesel which are not subsidized increased because fuel was increased.
The effect of the bombings will be worse if Jonathan scores more lows in other areas and will be less if he scores more highs. Unfortunately his promises of fresh air has not materialized and business has gone on as usual for corrupt politicians and their cronies. The recent release by the National Bureau of Statistics which shows a jump in the level of poverty from 54% in 2004 to over 70 % in 2011 is disturbing. What this means is that Nigeria is losing the gains it made rather than consolidate. This clearly tells that despite the rise in government revenue as indicated in the quantity of crude oil and price of crude , despite the radical increase in the collection of taxes, and with increased collection of custom and excise duties, Nigerians must have been short changed by a corrupt ruling class.
How else can we explain the relationship between increase in government revenue and sharp increase in poverty level. These two relationship ought not to be positive,because it is expected that as government revenue soars, investment in basic and business activities will boom which will stimulate growth and development. Unfortunately Nigeria's growth is only on paper,while the people are getting poorer. Even the working class are getting poorer because the cost of good and services are increasing faster than their level of income. This is made worse because the few corrupt individuals who have unlimited access to the public wealth unleash their stolen wealth into the same market to compete for products with the average and poor Nigerians. An increase in the supply of money naturally raises costs of goods and services but because the increase in money supply is skewed to only a few, it leaves the majority of people in poorer state since they can not command enough purchasing power.
The greatest bomb may come ahead of the 2015 if Jonathan eats his words and decides to run for a second term in office. Though he has the constitutional right to vie for the presidency he has lost the moral right when he gave his words that he will only run for one term.Not that his words matter to some people any more since he has failed to live up to some of them in so short a time. Jonathan must review his actions, utterances and get his acts together. It is not too late for him to turn from the path of a politician and chart the course of a statesman. History may forgive him if he fails but history may never forget him as one who was given an opportunity to turn around the fortune of the country but chose to serve the selfish agenda of a rotten few who have drained the nation of its life.
Facing bombs from both terrorists and government is a cross to much for Nigerians to bear. Jonathan can choose to give us flowers or join those who bomb innocent women,children in the name of a lost cause.
His handling of the boko harram menace, his management of the economic problems of the country and eventually his ability to resist or his temptation to aim for the number one job in 2015 (after he said he will not) will be the yardstick for evaluating his presidency or Presibombcy.
T
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
The Religious Divide
CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen
Religious fundamentalism and extremism are not new phenomena; it is only the rise in globalization and integration of the world that has made the effects of religious extremism more pronounced. The media, whether conventional or social has helped to hype activities of religious based terror groups and this has driven fear into the hearts of millions. This has helped to prosecute the war of these terror groups, for the very objective of terror is to create and instill fear, fear and more fear.
However, the rise in religious terrorism and its unconventional means of warfare is not the primary purpose of this write up. The religious divide here in talked about is that of the gulf between rituals (tradition) and spirituality in the same religion. Religion is made up of traditions which have been passed down over the ages and spirituality which is at the heart of religious practices. These traditions have become rituals over the years. There is no denying the fact that traditions or rituals have helped to shape religions in no little ways. However, promoting these traditions/rituals far and above the spirituality of the religion by those who practice the religion has led to my definition of religious divide. Consequently, religious divide is not the growing discontent or suspicion between or among different religions but a widening variation between the rituals and true spirituality of the same religion.
In Christianity, a lot of Catholics rush to church on Ash Wednesday only to receive ashes, many walk out immediately they receive it. Some may be in a hurry to go to work; others may not even have anywhere to go to. It is good to squeeze time and receive the ash which is only once in a year, yet the importance attached to the ritual of ash taking supersedes the very essence of Ash Wednesday in most cases. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of lent and lent is a period of repentance and charity; but many of us only think of the ash which is an outward symbol to carry our identities as Catholics on our forehead. The crux of Christianity which is love evident in reconciliation and charity is relegated. The ash is a ritual; prayers, penance and charity are spiritual. The more we admire the ash and down play prayer, penance or charity, the greater the religious divide. Many Christians pray in the ritual of speaking in tongues just for the sake of it without connecting to its spiritual manifestation in any way.
During Ramadan some few years ago, I boarded a commercial motor cycle and another motor cycle rider roughly crossed our front. The rider carrying me insulted the one at fault and told him to count himself lucky because he, the one carrying me was still fasting. Now what use is the fast, if we insult or see the fast as an obstacle to stopping us from fighting rather than as a change of attitude? The fast in this case is a ritual, living by example or tolerance is spirituality.
I am not advocating a departure from the rituals or traditions of our religions, but by closing the gap and elevating our spirituality to or beyond the pinnacle which we have taken our religious rituals to; we would have bridged the religious divide. Each time we close the gap between the religious divide in our own faith, we are practicing what we preach. If we truly believe in what we preach, and then practice what we preach, we will be more spiritual than religious and the world will be a better place.
The rise in religious extremism and fundamentalism stems from this very religious divide. If adherents of any religion concentrated on been spiritual rather than ritualistic, no one will kill in the name of religion. No one will insist on carrying out terror activities and force another to adhere to his or her own religious tradition. Religious divide is harmful to both the individual and the society, harmful to both we who believe in that very religion and those who do not believe in our religion.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Garlic ,Chicken and Love
CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen
... Luv Skool Stories with the Principal.
I met a beautiful lady in my second year in the university shortly after we resumed from a strike that punctuated academic activities. One of My friends introduced me to her and within two weeks of our pioneer meeting we kept bumping into each other in different places on campus. I got to know that she was a third year student of Law while I was a mass communication student.
On a faithful Tuesday morning she came to the boys' hostel to collect notes from one of her course mates and saw me brushing my teeth on the verandah of my second floor. We exchanged warm greetings and I informed her that my birthday was the next day. I had planned to host my friends to a dinner and I had a large number of friends, she was invited any way and she obliged to be present.
My birthday came and it was fun to gather all the friends who could make it. My room was more like a hall in the hostel with friends always coming in and going out. When Jennifer arrived , all heads turned to see the model who came in.
The room party was thrilling, we caught some fun, ate and drank and I got some pleasant surprises from friends. When the crowd started retiring at about 11 pm, I managed to walk some to the door since I had a lot of guests. My two room mates also helped me to walk some, but when Jeny wanted to leave, I had no choice but to walk her all the way to her room in the female block of the hostels. On the way we chatted and even held hands and we got so acquainted as if we had known for a longer period of time. When we got to her door she wanted to me step in but I declined since I left others in the room. I thanked her for coming and left.
Two days later I had cause to go and visit my fulani course mate Aisha in the female block who coincidentally stays opposite Jennifer. Aisha was one of my closiest friends in school and I could visit her without notice, she was not in so I decided to say a quick hi to Jennifer. When I entered we got gisting and she was so lively that I didn't know when an hour had passed.
We talked about so many things and started talking about ourselves. I told her I was sure she had a prince charming especially with her beauty. She blushed and asked me who told me. I went further to ask her many questions in the negative which put her on the defensive. Finally I told her that if I asked her to date me she would decline and she said " No , I wont decline". That begun a very romantic relationship that will transform two people to become one.
We went every where and did everything on campus as a couple. Jenny as I fondly called her was a sweet lady. I was not always bouyant but she did not care. They little we had we shared, but there was only one snag, Jenny loved kissing and I loved kissing too. But while Jenny could not do without garlic , I hated garlic with a passion.
Garlic ,Chicken and Love II
How could I be head over heels in love and not kiss the lady whose sweetness has exuded so much passion ? How will I kiss when the smell of garlic hangs so thick in the air, in the breath of my lover? Jenny had a choice to do away with me or with garlic, she chose the middle road of keeping me and reducing the quantity and frequency of the garlic she ate. She only eats it when she is sure we won't see or puts just a very little amount. But garlic has a strong smell, it can last for a while. But love meets the lover half way, as long as I love Jenny, I must also learn to accept what she likes, or hate it less.
Sometimes the pressure of academics makes it difficult to see Jenny, we were on two different campus and and though we could see in the hostel sometimes we spent a day or two without seeing. Some days the crunch of poverty bit harder and hunger comes handy. This was one of these days that Jenny came from her auntie's home. She prepared dinner , of rice and stewed chicken. It is not everyday that students cook full chicken and for sure Jenny took her time to prepare a delicious meal. As I walked into her room that Monday evening, I knew what hunger did to me during the day. Now I had an opportunity to not only take a jibe at hunger but to take some hard bites at this chicken. Jenny was all smile, she was sure I would leak my fingers from the aroma in the room and the way I reacted right from the door. Jenny loved me and I loved her too. We both love to talk and smile and roll over her foam on the ground, it helps to know that the spring bed which makes so much noise when lovers hibernate was not present in her room, there is just a plank partitioning the rooms and a curious neighbor will keep herself busy counting the number of creaks the bed makes.
She had not eaten,waiting to share the meal with the man she loves. I kissed her and told her how busy my day was. We had a test which was going to take up 30 marks of our assignment and the lecturer only set one question. One question carrying 30 marks was a kind of assessment we all dreaded. You could be lucky but if you got unlucky, you have to work triple hard in the exams. Jenny served us dinner and she opened the plate I was enthralled by the chicken parts I saw. Sight may be seducing but sense of smell was stronger. The smell if garlic blinded my eyes and I sat confused. I was hungry, when last did I see chicken staring at me like this? Jenny saw it in my eyes and apologized, she explained that she only put a little flavour of garlic as a seasoning because she hardly enjoys meat without garlic. She couldn't avoid the temptation of not putting just small, just small which she hoped I would not notice. I understood her plight perfectly, because before I came along she ate it without any remorse, infact she delighted in it. I looked at my sweetheart , looked at this well garnished chicken and I heard the rumbling of hunger from my stomach. Eating garlic just this once will not kill, will it? After all she just put a very little quantity, don't I kiss her and lie in her arms, wrapping her in mine? This garlic can not come between this delicious meal and I, a meal specially prepared by someone I love.
The mind can be very strong willed, Inspite of the tears in Jenny 's eyes and the sound of hunger rumbling in my stomach, I decided not to eat the garlic laced chicken.
Garlic, Chicken and love III
I didn’t know what to do. To either abandon the food Alex refused to eat because I had put a little garlic or just go on and enjoy my meal. It is not every day one gets this kind of food in school especially towards the end of the semester when the pocket is dried up. Alex has just spoilt my mood by I was bent on concealing my emotions. I loved him but I will not betray my emotion by letting him know how bad I felt, I quietly pick my spoon and ate after I fought back the tears.
It is not as if I am addicted to garlic, I did not always eat it, I only got used to it after a certain experience when I was in secondary school. I was always having an allergy that no drugs seemed to cure until one of my form master told me to try garlic. It was difficult for me because I never liked the smell; unfortunately I was left with it as the last option so I had little choice unless I wanted the allergy to continue. Within two days I saw great improvement and ironically I started enjoying the flavor too. My friends complained about the smell, I continued to take it until we left school. At home my mum had little resistance because she knew what I suffered when the allergy was traumatizing me.
I never really cared what the few boys who came my way said because I was not really interested in guys when I came to the university. My mum had told me to be weary of boys; I entered school with the mindset of minding my own business. But campus life was alluring and could be very tempting especially when your friends had boyfriends. I met two or three guys with nothing seriously attached until I met Alex. He was a jolly fellow and I had no reason to say no to him. I did something I had not done before by making sure I do not eat food with garlic hours before we were billed to see, and when I cooked I put just a little. If he is coming for dinner I will not put at all but when I cooked on this day, I knew I would not enjoy a meal of chicken if it is not flavoured, just a little.
I ate my food in silence and anger. If he loved me as he said what is in garlic that he will not eat? That was also his line of argument, if I loved him that much why can’t I just stop totally? After that meal I knew I had little time to make a final choice, I could see how he sat quietly through the meal, despite his hunger and the temptation of the chicken he was still able to resist. It dawned on me that this guy was serious, I could have prepared indomie for him to eat but I was determined to punish him for what he had done to me that evening. He rejected my food, a meal I took my time to prepare; I was sure when he gets to his bed that night he would pay for what he has done.
How will I choose garlic over a human being, a person I loved? I had to give it up and Alex proved to be a loving and caring guy. We had a long courtship and left school together. While I was in Law school he was serving and he got retained with a private TV station. Not long after we got married and whenever I think of the chicken incident, I try to imagine if he would have remained in the relationship had I insisted on eating my garlic. Would I have married garlic?
We had our first baby girl and named her Whitney. She is so beautiful and full of life. Alex and I love Whitney so much; Alex says she looks like me and he sees me in her. I was on maternity leave for four months after her birth, each morning as my husband sets to leave for work, he would kiss Whitney in her sleep and when he returns, he plays with her to make up for the hours he spent away. The duo became fun to see and have around, I am so happy when I look at the two people who give me joy. Alex made it a duty to kiss Whitney when he returns from work and at every moment he can and she got used to it as she grew up month by month. When she was 15 months old she caught this cold that would not go away. We went to the hospital thrice over a month and the doctors prescribed different anti biotic each time, the cough at night made her uncomfortable. She played during the day but you could see how her sleep was disturbed at night and that made us not to sleep too. I spoke with my mum who told me to remember my own allergy and how garlic cured it. I became more worried because I knew my husband disliked garlic, how would I even broach that topic to Alex?
I went to the market and got some garlic after years of not touching it. I prepared it for my daughter as a drink, she is my daughter and I love her just as I love her dad. I happen to be the one in between again. I did not want to risk Alex refusing the smell of garlic in the house if I asked. I gave my baby and was prepared to apologize when he comes back. I prayed seriously for it to work so that I will not have to go through a disappointment and my husband’s wrath.
When Alex returned from work I explained what I did and I secretly prayed he will not be crossed. Whitney who sleeping woke up not long after her dad returned and walked up to him, to my surprise he picked her up and kissed her as usual while she smiled back. He loves his daughter this much to still kiss her with the smell of garlic years after he made me to stop eating garlic, that was when I became jealous.
He laughed at me and told me he loves me and also loves our daughter. “Much as I hate garlic, I can’t compare my disdain for garlic and my baby’s wellbeing. If you loved me so much to choose me over garlic, why won’t I choose my daughter’s health over my dislike for garlic?”
“Why did you refuse my chicken way back then, since it would not have killed you? I will make sure I prepare chicken with garlic by tomorrow and if you do not eat, I will leave this house for you and Whitney”
“You know I will not eat it, even if it was a cow”
Though he has not changed, each time Whitney catches cold, Alex will ask me to give her garlic. When I remember the incident that happened in school about the garlic and chicken I cannot help but laugh at everything, I thank God for love, for my husband; Alex and my daughter; Whitney.
Concluded
However, this is purely a work of fiction.
... Luv Skool Stories with the Principal.
I met a beautiful lady in my second year in the university shortly after we resumed from a strike that punctuated academic activities. One of My friends introduced me to her and within two weeks of our pioneer meeting we kept bumping into each other in different places on campus. I got to know that she was a third year student of Law while I was a mass communication student.
On a faithful Tuesday morning she came to the boys' hostel to collect notes from one of her course mates and saw me brushing my teeth on the verandah of my second floor. We exchanged warm greetings and I informed her that my birthday was the next day. I had planned to host my friends to a dinner and I had a large number of friends, she was invited any way and she obliged to be present.
My birthday came and it was fun to gather all the friends who could make it. My room was more like a hall in the hostel with friends always coming in and going out. When Jennifer arrived , all heads turned to see the model who came in.
The room party was thrilling, we caught some fun, ate and drank and I got some pleasant surprises from friends. When the crowd started retiring at about 11 pm, I managed to walk some to the door since I had a lot of guests. My two room mates also helped me to walk some, but when Jeny wanted to leave, I had no choice but to walk her all the way to her room in the female block of the hostels. On the way we chatted and even held hands and we got so acquainted as if we had known for a longer period of time. When we got to her door she wanted to me step in but I declined since I left others in the room. I thanked her for coming and left.
Two days later I had cause to go and visit my fulani course mate Aisha in the female block who coincidentally stays opposite Jennifer. Aisha was one of my closiest friends in school and I could visit her without notice, she was not in so I decided to say a quick hi to Jennifer. When I entered we got gisting and she was so lively that I didn't know when an hour had passed.
We talked about so many things and started talking about ourselves. I told her I was sure she had a prince charming especially with her beauty. She blushed and asked me who told me. I went further to ask her many questions in the negative which put her on the defensive. Finally I told her that if I asked her to date me she would decline and she said " No , I wont decline". That begun a very romantic relationship that will transform two people to become one.
We went every where and did everything on campus as a couple. Jenny as I fondly called her was a sweet lady. I was not always bouyant but she did not care. They little we had we shared, but there was only one snag, Jenny loved kissing and I loved kissing too. But while Jenny could not do without garlic , I hated garlic with a passion.
Garlic ,Chicken and Love II
How could I be head over heels in love and not kiss the lady whose sweetness has exuded so much passion ? How will I kiss when the smell of garlic hangs so thick in the air, in the breath of my lover? Jenny had a choice to do away with me or with garlic, she chose the middle road of keeping me and reducing the quantity and frequency of the garlic she ate. She only eats it when she is sure we won't see or puts just a very little amount. But garlic has a strong smell, it can last for a while. But love meets the lover half way, as long as I love Jenny, I must also learn to accept what she likes, or hate it less.
Sometimes the pressure of academics makes it difficult to see Jenny, we were on two different campus and and though we could see in the hostel sometimes we spent a day or two without seeing. Some days the crunch of poverty bit harder and hunger comes handy. This was one of these days that Jenny came from her auntie's home. She prepared dinner , of rice and stewed chicken. It is not everyday that students cook full chicken and for sure Jenny took her time to prepare a delicious meal. As I walked into her room that Monday evening, I knew what hunger did to me during the day. Now I had an opportunity to not only take a jibe at hunger but to take some hard bites at this chicken. Jenny was all smile, she was sure I would leak my fingers from the aroma in the room and the way I reacted right from the door. Jenny loved me and I loved her too. We both love to talk and smile and roll over her foam on the ground, it helps to know that the spring bed which makes so much noise when lovers hibernate was not present in her room, there is just a plank partitioning the rooms and a curious neighbor will keep herself busy counting the number of creaks the bed makes.
She had not eaten,waiting to share the meal with the man she loves. I kissed her and told her how busy my day was. We had a test which was going to take up 30 marks of our assignment and the lecturer only set one question. One question carrying 30 marks was a kind of assessment we all dreaded. You could be lucky but if you got unlucky, you have to work triple hard in the exams. Jenny served us dinner and she opened the plate I was enthralled by the chicken parts I saw. Sight may be seducing but sense of smell was stronger. The smell if garlic blinded my eyes and I sat confused. I was hungry, when last did I see chicken staring at me like this? Jenny saw it in my eyes and apologized, she explained that she only put a little flavour of garlic as a seasoning because she hardly enjoys meat without garlic. She couldn't avoid the temptation of not putting just small, just small which she hoped I would not notice. I understood her plight perfectly, because before I came along she ate it without any remorse, infact she delighted in it. I looked at my sweetheart , looked at this well garnished chicken and I heard the rumbling of hunger from my stomach. Eating garlic just this once will not kill, will it? After all she just put a very little quantity, don't I kiss her and lie in her arms, wrapping her in mine? This garlic can not come between this delicious meal and I, a meal specially prepared by someone I love.
The mind can be very strong willed, Inspite of the tears in Jenny 's eyes and the sound of hunger rumbling in my stomach, I decided not to eat the garlic laced chicken.
Garlic, Chicken and love III
I didn’t know what to do. To either abandon the food Alex refused to eat because I had put a little garlic or just go on and enjoy my meal. It is not every day one gets this kind of food in school especially towards the end of the semester when the pocket is dried up. Alex has just spoilt my mood by I was bent on concealing my emotions. I loved him but I will not betray my emotion by letting him know how bad I felt, I quietly pick my spoon and ate after I fought back the tears.
It is not as if I am addicted to garlic, I did not always eat it, I only got used to it after a certain experience when I was in secondary school. I was always having an allergy that no drugs seemed to cure until one of my form master told me to try garlic. It was difficult for me because I never liked the smell; unfortunately I was left with it as the last option so I had little choice unless I wanted the allergy to continue. Within two days I saw great improvement and ironically I started enjoying the flavor too. My friends complained about the smell, I continued to take it until we left school. At home my mum had little resistance because she knew what I suffered when the allergy was traumatizing me.
I never really cared what the few boys who came my way said because I was not really interested in guys when I came to the university. My mum had told me to be weary of boys; I entered school with the mindset of minding my own business. But campus life was alluring and could be very tempting especially when your friends had boyfriends. I met two or three guys with nothing seriously attached until I met Alex. He was a jolly fellow and I had no reason to say no to him. I did something I had not done before by making sure I do not eat food with garlic hours before we were billed to see, and when I cooked I put just a little. If he is coming for dinner I will not put at all but when I cooked on this day, I knew I would not enjoy a meal of chicken if it is not flavoured, just a little.
I ate my food in silence and anger. If he loved me as he said what is in garlic that he will not eat? That was also his line of argument, if I loved him that much why can’t I just stop totally? After that meal I knew I had little time to make a final choice, I could see how he sat quietly through the meal, despite his hunger and the temptation of the chicken he was still able to resist. It dawned on me that this guy was serious, I could have prepared indomie for him to eat but I was determined to punish him for what he had done to me that evening. He rejected my food, a meal I took my time to prepare; I was sure when he gets to his bed that night he would pay for what he has done.
How will I choose garlic over a human being, a person I loved? I had to give it up and Alex proved to be a loving and caring guy. We had a long courtship and left school together. While I was in Law school he was serving and he got retained with a private TV station. Not long after we got married and whenever I think of the chicken incident, I try to imagine if he would have remained in the relationship had I insisted on eating my garlic. Would I have married garlic?
We had our first baby girl and named her Whitney. She is so beautiful and full of life. Alex and I love Whitney so much; Alex says she looks like me and he sees me in her. I was on maternity leave for four months after her birth, each morning as my husband sets to leave for work, he would kiss Whitney in her sleep and when he returns, he plays with her to make up for the hours he spent away. The duo became fun to see and have around, I am so happy when I look at the two people who give me joy. Alex made it a duty to kiss Whitney when he returns from work and at every moment he can and she got used to it as she grew up month by month. When she was 15 months old she caught this cold that would not go away. We went to the hospital thrice over a month and the doctors prescribed different anti biotic each time, the cough at night made her uncomfortable. She played during the day but you could see how her sleep was disturbed at night and that made us not to sleep too. I spoke with my mum who told me to remember my own allergy and how garlic cured it. I became more worried because I knew my husband disliked garlic, how would I even broach that topic to Alex?
I went to the market and got some garlic after years of not touching it. I prepared it for my daughter as a drink, she is my daughter and I love her just as I love her dad. I happen to be the one in between again. I did not want to risk Alex refusing the smell of garlic in the house if I asked. I gave my baby and was prepared to apologize when he comes back. I prayed seriously for it to work so that I will not have to go through a disappointment and my husband’s wrath.
When Alex returned from work I explained what I did and I secretly prayed he will not be crossed. Whitney who sleeping woke up not long after her dad returned and walked up to him, to my surprise he picked her up and kissed her as usual while she smiled back. He loves his daughter this much to still kiss her with the smell of garlic years after he made me to stop eating garlic, that was when I became jealous.
He laughed at me and told me he loves me and also loves our daughter. “Much as I hate garlic, I can’t compare my disdain for garlic and my baby’s wellbeing. If you loved me so much to choose me over garlic, why won’t I choose my daughter’s health over my dislike for garlic?”
“Why did you refuse my chicken way back then, since it would not have killed you? I will make sure I prepare chicken with garlic by tomorrow and if you do not eat, I will leave this house for you and Whitney”
“You know I will not eat it, even if it was a cow”
Though he has not changed, each time Whitney catches cold, Alex will ask me to give her garlic. When I remember the incident that happened in school about the garlic and chicken I cannot help but laugh at everything, I thank God for love, for my husband; Alex and my daughter; Whitney.
Concluded
However, this is purely a work of fiction.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
"Martyrs for Love " Special Dedication to Whitney Houston
Finally she died for love or is it for lackbof love? One of the sweetest women to ever walk the streets of entertainment whose songs were all about love, non of her songs depicted violence, crime or nudity. The lyrics of her songs electrified love but more for the cries of a lover in need of love.
Her ending years are some sad episodes of what love gone bad can do to sweet innocent people. A soured love can criminalize the lover especially who is on the receiving part.
'Finest voice' as the BBC describes her, Whitney's background was steeped in soul and gospel music. Her mother was gospel singer Cissy Houston, she was cousin to singer Dionne Warwick and goddaughter to Aretha Franklin.
Before the advent of CDs, DVDs, I tunes ,cable TVs and internent in this part of the world, Whitney Houston's voice filled out televison sets, FM radio and cassettes. From fantastic choir perfomances the queen took it to the stage and studio to become one of the greatest female singer of all times. Her adaption of Dolly Parton's 1973 song " I will always love you" went double platinum and became the greatest selling song of all times. She won six Grammys, thirty billboard awards and twenty two American music awards and sold 170 million records.
From the skies came Bobby Brown, one of the members of the Boy's group New Edition. Whitney loved Bobby in a way we as kids could not understand. Whitney was more polished, taller, sweeter, older and even richer than Bobby so we always asked what she saw in Bobby. We were kids and so could be forgiven for we knew nothing about love. Whitney saved all her love for Bobby and gave him that sweetness to be his wife. She must have promised to love him always and was ready to go all the way, which she proved. Love must have blinded her because even in far away Nigeria we saw Bobby as a bad boy and kept asking why will Whitney marry him?
She loved him and did everything to make it work. When Bobby started his domestic violence many people expected Whitney to evacuate and leave but she stuck until when it was obvious that her life could be in danger. After much trial and tolerance she left but not before getting involved in drugs to hide her pains, frustration and disappointed from the love she once thought will take her to heaven.
When in the late 2000s when pitcures of a worn out Whiteny circulated after her divorce in 2007 , it was heart breaking and sorrowful to see what drugs, heartbreak and frustration did to this one beautful sweet lady. She fought seriously and got rehabilitated and came back to music. All her songs during her trials in marriage depicts someone who was hurt and even after her divorce and rehab, the songs always speak of wanting to come back (to her man) like she never left. In her songs you could hear the cries of a lonely woman, sad woman, a woman who still loved her man.
Unlike other music stars, Whitney was not known or connected with any man since Bobby Brown. the saddest thing is while whitney suffered for love or lack of love by the callous action of a man she loved and married , Bobby remain unrepentant, unapologetic and never made any attempt to reach the soul of this diva.
For love she left others and followed a man who didn't not appreciate her, for lack of love she lived her remaining years even craving for it. It may not be just a coincidence that she died just three days to this year's valentine ; in the season of a love, her heart and life has been deprieved for long and as one of her songs asked, "where do broken hearts go"
Whitney, if yesterday was your judgement day and the lord asked you what did you do with your life, please tell the dear lord that you spent it with us.
Adieu our power of love.
Wakdok, Samuel Stephen...12102012
Credoworld.blogspot.com
Her ending years are some sad episodes of what love gone bad can do to sweet innocent people. A soured love can criminalize the lover especially who is on the receiving part.
'Finest voice' as the BBC describes her, Whitney's background was steeped in soul and gospel music. Her mother was gospel singer Cissy Houston, she was cousin to singer Dionne Warwick and goddaughter to Aretha Franklin.
Before the advent of CDs, DVDs, I tunes ,cable TVs and internent in this part of the world, Whitney Houston's voice filled out televison sets, FM radio and cassettes. From fantastic choir perfomances the queen took it to the stage and studio to become one of the greatest female singer of all times. Her adaption of Dolly Parton's 1973 song " I will always love you" went double platinum and became the greatest selling song of all times. She won six Grammys, thirty billboard awards and twenty two American music awards and sold 170 million records.
From the skies came Bobby Brown, one of the members of the Boy's group New Edition. Whitney loved Bobby in a way we as kids could not understand. Whitney was more polished, taller, sweeter, older and even richer than Bobby so we always asked what she saw in Bobby. We were kids and so could be forgiven for we knew nothing about love. Whitney saved all her love for Bobby and gave him that sweetness to be his wife. She must have promised to love him always and was ready to go all the way, which she proved. Love must have blinded her because even in far away Nigeria we saw Bobby as a bad boy and kept asking why will Whitney marry him?
She loved him and did everything to make it work. When Bobby started his domestic violence many people expected Whitney to evacuate and leave but she stuck until when it was obvious that her life could be in danger. After much trial and tolerance she left but not before getting involved in drugs to hide her pains, frustration and disappointed from the love she once thought will take her to heaven.
When in the late 2000s when pitcures of a worn out Whiteny circulated after her divorce in 2007 , it was heart breaking and sorrowful to see what drugs, heartbreak and frustration did to this one beautful sweet lady. She fought seriously and got rehabilitated and came back to music. All her songs during her trials in marriage depicts someone who was hurt and even after her divorce and rehab, the songs always speak of wanting to come back (to her man) like she never left. In her songs you could hear the cries of a lonely woman, sad woman, a woman who still loved her man.
Unlike other music stars, Whitney was not known or connected with any man since Bobby Brown. the saddest thing is while whitney suffered for love or lack of love by the callous action of a man she loved and married , Bobby remain unrepentant, unapologetic and never made any attempt to reach the soul of this diva.
For love she left others and followed a man who didn't not appreciate her, for lack of love she lived her remaining years even craving for it. It may not be just a coincidence that she died just three days to this year's valentine ; in the season of a love, her heart and life has been deprieved for long and as one of her songs asked, "where do broken hearts go"
Whitney, if yesterday was your judgement day and the lord asked you what did you do with your life, please tell the dear lord that you spent it with us.
Adieu our power of love.
Wakdok, Samuel Stephen...12102012
Credoworld.blogspot.com
Friday, February 10, 2012
“NIGERIA: A COMMITTEE OF THE (W) HOLE”
CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen
This is a country where we may wake up to have more committees than the number of people living in it. We do everything in committees, if only the results are always laudable and commiserate with the amount of resources expended on the committees. A committee is needed to set up a committee, another committee is needed to monitor the committee, a committee is used to review and appraise a committee, and a committee is used to wind up another committee. Hence everything is in committee with committee as the terms of reference, with committees as the reason for setting up the committees, and committees as results of the committees. All we see as output for the energy, time, resources and space spent on setting up committees are committees.
People marry in and through committees, i.e. committee of friends or the church committee to screen intending couples, or the village/ customary committee to slam the dowry and collect the bride price. At birth, women give birth in committee called ante natal or when the nurses round around in committees shouting push--- push. Of course the new born child is welcome by committee of older women who throw it up at bathing time and during naming ceremony and now a church committee during dedication. If she is lucky not to be a boy will escape the circumcision, unless where female genital mutilation is in force.
People live in committee popularly called face me- I -face you compound and quarrel in committees especially for families with numerous children. At “mama put” another committee is present early in the morning and another late in the evening either at mai shayi/suya joint or beer parlours. People commute in committees called Danfo, Molue or keke Napep and also get thrown into the gutters, ditches and rivers in committees by committees of reckless drivers.
Students read and hunger in committees only to be awarded with extra years by committees of ASUU, NASU, SSANU and FGN or States as applicable. Patients die in committees killed by Committees of medical doctors, nurses, health workers or government.
We are exploited by a committee called the political class whose only mandate is corruption and power struggle. Our resources are plundered by a committee of past and present rulers whose only result in massive investment in committees has led to committees to probe committees which probed previous committees.
A committee is set up by a cabal to turn our oil boom to doom, our wealth to poverty, and our infrastructure to decay; only for the committee which plundered us to set up a committee to reinvest our woes. Then another committee is set up to task force a committee that is set up due to the failure of committees of ministries, departments and agencies.
The lie to us in committees, steal in committees allow us to be killed by committees of terrorists and criminals and then set up committees to investigate both the remote and immediate causes which of course are failed committees.
PHCN gives us black out in committees of outage and mismanagement of resources, only to be probed by a committee which itself is indicted by another committee.
People are unemployed or under employed in committees, many more who think they are employed are only disguisedly unemployed in committees and the employers exploit their labour force in committees.
Journalists cum social critics write and lament in committees only for them to join the corrupt governments in committees, eat their shares in committees and surely get disgraced out in committees.
The National Assembly loots in committees while the executive loots in committee of individuals or individuals in committees. Committees of landlords and agents are profiteering from high rents and land speculation turning millions into squatters and tenants with overburdened rents,
Elections are rigged in committees; the land is besieged with committees of violence, hunger, stealing, lies, nepotism, misinformation, and many other vices. Human beings kill themselves in committees of religions and now habitats are settling in committees of Christians, Moslems. Committees of homosexuals and lesbians also have come to the fore demanding for universal rights.
Yet, members of the committees smile to the banks whether money banks or blood banks with their dirty antics to perpetuate the government of the committee by the committee for the committee which benefits only members of the respective committees. As the committees thrive, the people suffer; as these committees reproduce the people demise.
Persons who once walked in committees of the bare footed now wear shoes to trample us in committees while people who once defended the poor in committees of the pen are using the same pen to propagate lies in committees. The committee of the whole has put us all into the committee of the hole where bombings, killings, kidnappings, rapes, fundamentalism, theft, bunkering, smuggling and corruption have become the norm rather than exception. Nigerians are now been buried in committees of mass graves, may God send a true committee of the righteous to rescue us as a whole out of this hole. Amen.
credoworld.blogspot.com
This is a country where we may wake up to have more committees than the number of people living in it. We do everything in committees, if only the results are always laudable and commiserate with the amount of resources expended on the committees. A committee is needed to set up a committee, another committee is needed to monitor the committee, a committee is used to review and appraise a committee, and a committee is used to wind up another committee. Hence everything is in committee with committee as the terms of reference, with committees as the reason for setting up the committees, and committees as results of the committees. All we see as output for the energy, time, resources and space spent on setting up committees are committees.
People marry in and through committees, i.e. committee of friends or the church committee to screen intending couples, or the village/ customary committee to slam the dowry and collect the bride price. At birth, women give birth in committee called ante natal or when the nurses round around in committees shouting push--- push. Of course the new born child is welcome by committee of older women who throw it up at bathing time and during naming ceremony and now a church committee during dedication. If she is lucky not to be a boy will escape the circumcision, unless where female genital mutilation is in force.
People live in committee popularly called face me- I -face you compound and quarrel in committees especially for families with numerous children. At “mama put” another committee is present early in the morning and another late in the evening either at mai shayi/suya joint or beer parlours. People commute in committees called Danfo, Molue or keke Napep and also get thrown into the gutters, ditches and rivers in committees by committees of reckless drivers.
Students read and hunger in committees only to be awarded with extra years by committees of ASUU, NASU, SSANU and FGN or States as applicable. Patients die in committees killed by Committees of medical doctors, nurses, health workers or government.
We are exploited by a committee called the political class whose only mandate is corruption and power struggle. Our resources are plundered by a committee of past and present rulers whose only result in massive investment in committees has led to committees to probe committees which probed previous committees.
A committee is set up by a cabal to turn our oil boom to doom, our wealth to poverty, and our infrastructure to decay; only for the committee which plundered us to set up a committee to reinvest our woes. Then another committee is set up to task force a committee that is set up due to the failure of committees of ministries, departments and agencies.
The lie to us in committees, steal in committees allow us to be killed by committees of terrorists and criminals and then set up committees to investigate both the remote and immediate causes which of course are failed committees.
PHCN gives us black out in committees of outage and mismanagement of resources, only to be probed by a committee which itself is indicted by another committee.
People are unemployed or under employed in committees, many more who think they are employed are only disguisedly unemployed in committees and the employers exploit their labour force in committees.
Journalists cum social critics write and lament in committees only for them to join the corrupt governments in committees, eat their shares in committees and surely get disgraced out in committees.
The National Assembly loots in committees while the executive loots in committee of individuals or individuals in committees. Committees of landlords and agents are profiteering from high rents and land speculation turning millions into squatters and tenants with overburdened rents,
Elections are rigged in committees; the land is besieged with committees of violence, hunger, stealing, lies, nepotism, misinformation, and many other vices. Human beings kill themselves in committees of religions and now habitats are settling in committees of Christians, Moslems. Committees of homosexuals and lesbians also have come to the fore demanding for universal rights.
Yet, members of the committees smile to the banks whether money banks or blood banks with their dirty antics to perpetuate the government of the committee by the committee for the committee which benefits only members of the respective committees. As the committees thrive, the people suffer; as these committees reproduce the people demise.
Persons who once walked in committees of the bare footed now wear shoes to trample us in committees while people who once defended the poor in committees of the pen are using the same pen to propagate lies in committees. The committee of the whole has put us all into the committee of the hole where bombings, killings, kidnappings, rapes, fundamentalism, theft, bunkering, smuggling and corruption have become the norm rather than exception. Nigerians are now been buried in committees of mass graves, may God send a true committee of the righteous to rescue us as a whole out of this hole. Amen.
credoworld.blogspot.com
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Celebrating Our Black African Love
By N. Amma Twum-Baah and Wakdok, Samuel Stephen
Woman: My lover, my friend, my soul has known no greater pleasure since the day I saw You! I always said to myself: “there is no such thing as the perfect man for me! I am desired by so many others; there cannot be just one out there perfect enough for me.” Or so I thought, until I opened up my eyes and I saw You.
Man: My lady, I saw You long before You ever saw me because You glow above all the desert of the Sahara and I know how majestic You are. You are first among equals and second to none. You stand higher than the Kilimanjaro and your beauty beats the sight of Victoria Falls.
Woman: How foolish I have been! I had a list of requirements as long as the road from Namibia to Angola, and I judged your worth based on those requirements. I never thought one would come along who not only met those requirements, but surpassed my expectations. I never knew I could find a love like yours my love. Some came close but fell short in too many important ways. They looked good but lacked substance. They spoke well, but their words were tainted. They had academic degrees, but their minds were shallow. They talked a good game, but their hearts were full of deceit.
Man: You were only being naïve my love. Your loveliness surpasses the length of the Nile and I can boldly say that your breath is stronger than the Zulu army. You are my jewel in the savannah, the gateway to my ecstasy. My African treasure, the jungles of Africa bow at your sight. You are richer than all the Gold in South Africa juxtaposed on the oil field in the Gulf of Guinea. Darling, your serenity is more natural than the Mambila Plateau and your kindness runs deeper than the Atlantic Ocean. You give the Garden city its spring of serendipity.
Woman: My lord, my man, my heart, I didn’t care whether You would turn out to be Ghanaian or Nigerian, Senegalese of Kenyan, but I hoped You would. All I cared about was that You were African! And that your veins run with the blood of our ancestors, that You spoke the language of love the way our forefathers spoke the language of love – in our own unique way! I cared that You didn’t gag when I served You one of the many delectable delicacies mum painstakingly taught me. I cared that You treated me like the delicate African flower that I am – beautiful when in bloom, pampered, loved and protected.
Man: My Princess You are the fountain of beauty which flows into the mountain of peace. On your precious head sits the crown of diamonds which dwarfs all the diamonds in Sierra-Leone. You are my African Pride, and when You gave me the gate pass to your heart I knew I would live for ever because even when I die, my love living in You will live for all eternity. You give life to my being and illuminate my soul. “Babylove”; You are the woman of my desire, the queen of my heart, the destiny of my eternity.
Woman: My prince, divine nature thought it best to send me You. You are the one who lights up my soul and makes my heart sing songs of infinite melodies. You satiate the intense burning of desire deep inside me. I never want this feeling to end. No wonder all those years back when I was a little girl, even as I read fairy tales of white princes and knights-in-shining armor riding to rescue me on a white horse; I always envisioned You, my black love, my black prince, my black warrior, chest broad and bare, spear in hand, a triumphant look across your handsome face, riding in on a black horse, its coat gleaming through the sun’s rays. You rescued my heart from doom and You kept me safe in your arms. With those strong arms, I knew I would be safe forever. Protect me from this evil world that tells me my beauty is nothing compared to others.
Man: Come baby let me protect You. Make my heart your heart, hold me tight, kiss me sweet, touch me smoothly and I will love and protect You endlessly. You make me a proud man, You are the sun that lights my day and the moon that lights my night. I know I was right when I set my eyes on You and I told my heart to follow You.
Woman: Many have found love in the arms of others. I have found love right where I feel at home; where I can be me without having to explain myself, and everything I do.
Man: That’s because the love of an African man made manifest in an African woman makes the world spin and halt on the African continent. You who once were my fantasy are now my purpose of existence. I can see You with the eyes of my heart and hear You with the ears of my heart. And since that lovely day when You looked into my eyes and told me ‘Yes,’ I knew that the heart of your heart had merged with the heart of mine. Forever we will live and love and live and love.
Woman: How foolish I’ve been my love. I knew You long before I saw You and that’s what makes our love so unique and so strong! I knew You before I saw You and that’s why I know that no matter where I go and no matter what I do, love will always be there beckoning me home. I knew You, long before I saw You in all your patience, and in all your caring. There were times I was afraid you’d walk away from being tired of waiting for me to see You. There were times I wanted to see You, but my sight was focused on another. There were times I saw You, but I was afraid of what my eyes were seeing so I looked and saw another. I was running away from the safety of love. Now, I wonder why I was so foolish.
Man: My Precious golden girl, my sweet cherry; let me show You to the world. Your foolishness has been forgiven. Let’s focus on what matters here and now. Your full bosom seduces even the angels and your eyes can pierce the Zuma rock. When I hold You close to me and feel the softness of your being, when I close my eyes and kiss You, I do not only feel, but I know I am in heaven. Tell me, who else can make me feel this way but You. Each time You smile, I loose my head for a while and the world feels Africa is not the place where the deities of love dwell?
Woman: My African warrior, my charming prince, there is a song in my heart that sings in perfect melody at the sight of You. There is a sound in my throat that escapes only at the touch of your hands. No one has ever made me feel half as good about myself like You do. I feel your love beckoning to me and I humbly obey!
Man: If I love You, it is because love is You. If I need You, it is because life is You. No man with blood flowing through his veins will see You and not appreciate the true African warrior I am to have won You. I have your heart and body and I know You submitted your soul long ago to me. Can I ever stop loving You; will that not stop my heart from beating? What use will I have on earth when I stop my own heart from beating? I will be useless can’t You see, if I do not have You to stick by my side. Love has no boundaries and that is why whether You are a Ghanaian and I am a Nigerian it makes little or no sense to me. The only thing that makes sense to me is the fact that You love me and I know You will never regret loving me. If I steal and steal billons of nairas or Cedis then I am rogue, but if stealing Your heart is what I am guilty of then let me be guilty a zillion times.
Woman: I submit to your love – oh how I used to hate that word “submit!” But, with You, it feels so right! Take care of me, and I’ll take care of You! Be my provider, and I’ll be your help. Lead me, and I’ll follow! Direct me, and I’ll listen! For some reason, all of a sudden, “Let me cater to You” does not sound like such a degrading song after all. For some reason, seeing mum lay out dad’s dinner covered with white lace doesn’t seem so maid-like after all. For some reason, the thought of catering to You makes me weak in the knees and gives me such immense pleasure. It makes me want to cook your dinner and rub your tired feet. It makes me want to rub your back and plant sweet kisses on your neck. It makes me want to savor every minute spent in Your arms showered in your sweet kisses. It makes me want to be weak. It makes me want to be the vulnerable. It makes me want to serve You. It makes me want to submit to You, and obey the sound of your voice.
Man: My “Afrikan Goddess”, I have no poem to write for You because your life is my poetry. I have no joy to share with You because my heart is your happiness and I can not give up my life for You because my life is your heart. Every day is our season of love and when I am with You hell is burnt out of existence; I understand God’s desire for the Garden of Eden as a place of love and happiness. Love is God’s gift to You and I and it is our symbol of angelic inheritance, no physicist can measure the velocity of our love. When ever I think of You I thank the Lord for permitting one of his angels to descend and be my sanity in this insane world. This love story is not written on paper which can be burnt or stored on a disk that can be deleted. It is carved out on my heart and stored in it always to be retrieved and I know from my heart to yours it flows without end. You are the core of my existence and the most delicate part of my being is You.
Woman: My friend, my lover, my prince, as for me, I want to shout our love from the rooftops and tell You time and time again that I cannot live without your love. I want the whole world to hear of our love and to know that You are the reason why I live. I want the world to know that You rule my body and You rule my heart. I submit to You all that is within me and all that I am. You are the core of my existence and the most delicate part of my being is You.
Man: Now that You are weak and vulnerable, and have submitted to me, let me fill You with my charms, let me stride You to ecstasy and take You beyond the clouds. My “Afrikan Goddess,” Your royalty has no past neither does it have a limit. My baby, my friend, my wife, my woman, my lady, my princess and my all; to live without your love is to live in vain; it is not to live in the first place. I love You!
About the Authors
N. Amma Twum-Baah a Ghanaian based in the United States is the Founder/ Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of Afrikan Goddess.
Wakdok, Samuel Stephen a Nigerian is the brain that powers Credo World Media: http://CredoWorld.blogspot.com
Woman: My lover, my friend, my soul has known no greater pleasure since the day I saw You! I always said to myself: “there is no such thing as the perfect man for me! I am desired by so many others; there cannot be just one out there perfect enough for me.” Or so I thought, until I opened up my eyes and I saw You.
Man: My lady, I saw You long before You ever saw me because You glow above all the desert of the Sahara and I know how majestic You are. You are first among equals and second to none. You stand higher than the Kilimanjaro and your beauty beats the sight of Victoria Falls.
Woman: How foolish I have been! I had a list of requirements as long as the road from Namibia to Angola, and I judged your worth based on those requirements. I never thought one would come along who not only met those requirements, but surpassed my expectations. I never knew I could find a love like yours my love. Some came close but fell short in too many important ways. They looked good but lacked substance. They spoke well, but their words were tainted. They had academic degrees, but their minds were shallow. They talked a good game, but their hearts were full of deceit.
Man: You were only being naïve my love. Your loveliness surpasses the length of the Nile and I can boldly say that your breath is stronger than the Zulu army. You are my jewel in the savannah, the gateway to my ecstasy. My African treasure, the jungles of Africa bow at your sight. You are richer than all the Gold in South Africa juxtaposed on the oil field in the Gulf of Guinea. Darling, your serenity is more natural than the Mambila Plateau and your kindness runs deeper than the Atlantic Ocean. You give the Garden city its spring of serendipity.
Woman: My lord, my man, my heart, I didn’t care whether You would turn out to be Ghanaian or Nigerian, Senegalese of Kenyan, but I hoped You would. All I cared about was that You were African! And that your veins run with the blood of our ancestors, that You spoke the language of love the way our forefathers spoke the language of love – in our own unique way! I cared that You didn’t gag when I served You one of the many delectable delicacies mum painstakingly taught me. I cared that You treated me like the delicate African flower that I am – beautiful when in bloom, pampered, loved and protected.
Man: My Princess You are the fountain of beauty which flows into the mountain of peace. On your precious head sits the crown of diamonds which dwarfs all the diamonds in Sierra-Leone. You are my African Pride, and when You gave me the gate pass to your heart I knew I would live for ever because even when I die, my love living in You will live for all eternity. You give life to my being and illuminate my soul. “Babylove”; You are the woman of my desire, the queen of my heart, the destiny of my eternity.
Woman: My prince, divine nature thought it best to send me You. You are the one who lights up my soul and makes my heart sing songs of infinite melodies. You satiate the intense burning of desire deep inside me. I never want this feeling to end. No wonder all those years back when I was a little girl, even as I read fairy tales of white princes and knights-in-shining armor riding to rescue me on a white horse; I always envisioned You, my black love, my black prince, my black warrior, chest broad and bare, spear in hand, a triumphant look across your handsome face, riding in on a black horse, its coat gleaming through the sun’s rays. You rescued my heart from doom and You kept me safe in your arms. With those strong arms, I knew I would be safe forever. Protect me from this evil world that tells me my beauty is nothing compared to others.
Man: Come baby let me protect You. Make my heart your heart, hold me tight, kiss me sweet, touch me smoothly and I will love and protect You endlessly. You make me a proud man, You are the sun that lights my day and the moon that lights my night. I know I was right when I set my eyes on You and I told my heart to follow You.
Woman: Many have found love in the arms of others. I have found love right where I feel at home; where I can be me without having to explain myself, and everything I do.
Man: That’s because the love of an African man made manifest in an African woman makes the world spin and halt on the African continent. You who once were my fantasy are now my purpose of existence. I can see You with the eyes of my heart and hear You with the ears of my heart. And since that lovely day when You looked into my eyes and told me ‘Yes,’ I knew that the heart of your heart had merged with the heart of mine. Forever we will live and love and live and love.
Woman: How foolish I’ve been my love. I knew You long before I saw You and that’s what makes our love so unique and so strong! I knew You before I saw You and that’s why I know that no matter where I go and no matter what I do, love will always be there beckoning me home. I knew You, long before I saw You in all your patience, and in all your caring. There were times I was afraid you’d walk away from being tired of waiting for me to see You. There were times I wanted to see You, but my sight was focused on another. There were times I saw You, but I was afraid of what my eyes were seeing so I looked and saw another. I was running away from the safety of love. Now, I wonder why I was so foolish.
Man: My Precious golden girl, my sweet cherry; let me show You to the world. Your foolishness has been forgiven. Let’s focus on what matters here and now. Your full bosom seduces even the angels and your eyes can pierce the Zuma rock. When I hold You close to me and feel the softness of your being, when I close my eyes and kiss You, I do not only feel, but I know I am in heaven. Tell me, who else can make me feel this way but You. Each time You smile, I loose my head for a while and the world feels Africa is not the place where the deities of love dwell?
Woman: My African warrior, my charming prince, there is a song in my heart that sings in perfect melody at the sight of You. There is a sound in my throat that escapes only at the touch of your hands. No one has ever made me feel half as good about myself like You do. I feel your love beckoning to me and I humbly obey!
Man: If I love You, it is because love is You. If I need You, it is because life is You. No man with blood flowing through his veins will see You and not appreciate the true African warrior I am to have won You. I have your heart and body and I know You submitted your soul long ago to me. Can I ever stop loving You; will that not stop my heart from beating? What use will I have on earth when I stop my own heart from beating? I will be useless can’t You see, if I do not have You to stick by my side. Love has no boundaries and that is why whether You are a Ghanaian and I am a Nigerian it makes little or no sense to me. The only thing that makes sense to me is the fact that You love me and I know You will never regret loving me. If I steal and steal billons of nairas or Cedis then I am rogue, but if stealing Your heart is what I am guilty of then let me be guilty a zillion times.
Woman: I submit to your love – oh how I used to hate that word “submit!” But, with You, it feels so right! Take care of me, and I’ll take care of You! Be my provider, and I’ll be your help. Lead me, and I’ll follow! Direct me, and I’ll listen! For some reason, all of a sudden, “Let me cater to You” does not sound like such a degrading song after all. For some reason, seeing mum lay out dad’s dinner covered with white lace doesn’t seem so maid-like after all. For some reason, the thought of catering to You makes me weak in the knees and gives me such immense pleasure. It makes me want to cook your dinner and rub your tired feet. It makes me want to rub your back and plant sweet kisses on your neck. It makes me want to savor every minute spent in Your arms showered in your sweet kisses. It makes me want to be weak. It makes me want to be the vulnerable. It makes me want to serve You. It makes me want to submit to You, and obey the sound of your voice.
Man: My “Afrikan Goddess”, I have no poem to write for You because your life is my poetry. I have no joy to share with You because my heart is your happiness and I can not give up my life for You because my life is your heart. Every day is our season of love and when I am with You hell is burnt out of existence; I understand God’s desire for the Garden of Eden as a place of love and happiness. Love is God’s gift to You and I and it is our symbol of angelic inheritance, no physicist can measure the velocity of our love. When ever I think of You I thank the Lord for permitting one of his angels to descend and be my sanity in this insane world. This love story is not written on paper which can be burnt or stored on a disk that can be deleted. It is carved out on my heart and stored in it always to be retrieved and I know from my heart to yours it flows without end. You are the core of my existence and the most delicate part of my being is You.
Woman: My friend, my lover, my prince, as for me, I want to shout our love from the rooftops and tell You time and time again that I cannot live without your love. I want the whole world to hear of our love and to know that You are the reason why I live. I want the world to know that You rule my body and You rule my heart. I submit to You all that is within me and all that I am. You are the core of my existence and the most delicate part of my being is You.
Man: Now that You are weak and vulnerable, and have submitted to me, let me fill You with my charms, let me stride You to ecstasy and take You beyond the clouds. My “Afrikan Goddess,” Your royalty has no past neither does it have a limit. My baby, my friend, my wife, my woman, my lady, my princess and my all; to live without your love is to live in vain; it is not to live in the first place. I love You!
About the Authors
N. Amma Twum-Baah a Ghanaian based in the United States is the Founder/ Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of Afrikan Goddess.
Wakdok, Samuel Stephen a Nigerian is the brain that powers Credo World Media: http://CredoWorld.blogspot.com
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