Women, Sexuality, Men; The truth we hate to think of.

I would love to borrow this long quote:

"We teach girls to shrink themselves
To make themselves smaller
We say to girls
'You can have ambition
But not too much
You should aim to be successful
But not too successful
Otherwise you will threaten the man'
Because I am female
I am expected to aspire to marriage
I am expected to make my life choices
Always keeping in mind that
Marriage is the most important
Now marriage can be a source of
Joy and love and mutual support
But why do we teach to aspire to marriage
And we don't teach boys the same?
We raise girls to each other as competitors
Not for jobs or for accomplishments
Which I think can be a good thing
But for the attention of men
We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings
In the way that boys are" - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie


This brings us to the topic; women and their need for male approval.

90% of the time a woman stays in the mirror to preen and look good. She is trying to impress one or several men. She wants to look good so that she can be admired (most of the time in a sexual manner). This isn't something a girl sits down to decide. Somehow it's like that.
Most women expect to be treated differently because they are women. They want to buy favours by batting their eyelashes. They want preferential treatment because they are fine. And, the day a girl would take her time, dress up and apply all the make up she can lay her hands on, and no boy walks up to her and asks for her number, or nobody even admires her, there would be trouble.


So many times a girls self confidence can be measured by the amount of male attention she gets. A girl who isn't naturally too pretty tends to suffer from serious inferiority complex, and one who is fine even though she is dumb, is all puffy and proud because boys tell her she is fine (as if she is God that created herself).





It is the truth that our brain shuts down to. That women have been objectified as sexual beings. No matter how successful you are, there is that heaviness in your back that brings you down to just being a woman, nothing else.
Especially in Nigeria, men here are quick to say 'she is a woman'. That alone is enough to excuse or trivialise anything you do.

There isn't much we can do about this situation. If a woman decides to find her own voice, she is doing an abominable thing. You must come under the canopy of a man. It's what it is. That's the way it has always been. But is that the way it should be?

We are first human beings, before we are women. Before you think 'Ha! She is a woman'. First treat her like a human being. Don't go to a table surrounded by guys, and shake hands with all of them and ignore the lady sitting there too. Because she is a lady or because something in your screwed up head doesn't think she also deserves a hand shake . Not only is it improper, it is disgusting and galling.


Men and women have different roles to play. And for all these roles, God has given us tools to handle them. If a woman tries to play the role of a man, it becomes irritating and vice versa.


Men and women are equal. We were created equal, but just differently. For the people that think that a man is the head of the house. Remember, the head rarely controls the heart.

WE NEED A PIECE OF MADIBA

"Heal the world, make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race" - Michael Jackson

When the lights go off, and the curtains are closed. When you are asked off the stage, and your name wiped off the cast. What will you have achieved? What will you leave behind? Will you die with a smile on your face or a frown? Will people shake their heads and move on. Or will they cry and wish you to come back. Will you have wasted God's time and yours?
Am guessing your parents will cry and your siblings. Maybe few of your friends will update their bbm and twitter and write "What a shock! Rip my dear friend. Life is cruel". But what else?
These were the questions I asked myself during Madiba's ten days memorial ceremony. And I think everyone should do the same.
Life is empty, worthless, meaningless, pointless without Love. It was the love Madiba had for his fellow South Africans that made him fight tooth and nail for their freedom. Madiba did a superhuman thing. It would have been impossible for apartheid to end without massive bloodshed if not for Madiba (look at the lifes we lost during the Biafran war which was fought between us Nigerians, imagine if we were fighting people who weren't Nigerians. People who came into our country, stripped us off our rights, our dignity, and our sense of belonging? Trust me it would have been way bloody).
But Madiba in his supernatural way ended the apartheid. Freed so many South Africans from the shackles of slavery. Madiba gave hope to others selflessly. He fought for humanity, and he was ready to die.
Madiba was humble. He was principled. He was a good man, who believed in forgiveness and love.
A man that spent 27 years of his life in prison for what he believed in. And in those 27 years never was there a time that he decided to bend. He knew what he wanted for his people and he achieved it.
We should all emulate Madiba. Let's begin with our personal lifes. We should rise above jealousy, anger, hate. We should fight for what is right and stand by it at all times. We should always ask: Is true? Is it fair? Will it be beneficial to all concerned? Will it bring goodwill and better friendship?
We should seek at all times to be like Madiba. Rise up against injustice. Ditch the "chop alone" mentality. Don't be useful to yourself and family alone. Reach out to people. If you can't give money, give a smile, give a word of encouragement or even a listening ear. Let selfless love flow out of you. It takes practice, hard work, and determination. Just today, do a little something for someone you don't know. If we can have a piece of Madiba in Nigeria then we are on a short walk to happiness.

HOW SHE DIED

Her gaze lingered on the back of his shirt as he strolled to the door. Her hands grabbed the sofa seat desperately. She knew he was going to see that woman, even though he lied that he was going to see his friends. She knew because of the way he took more time preening in front of the mirror. She felt a pang of dizziness as he banged the door, and she imagined what he was going to do with that woman. The thought of it made her cringe. She tried to wipe it off her mind, but the image of his mouth sucking on another woman's nipples stared at her.
A text came into her phone 'Don't wait up for me, I'll be late'.
A reconfirmation of the evil he was going to commit.

His arrogance, his domineering nature was what attracted her to him in the first place. That he could make up for her weakness was the magnet that pulled her towards him. Now, that grip he had on her felt more painful than ever. It made her feel worn out.

She walked painfully to the bedroom, and stood in front of the mirror. Her hair was a mess. She ran her hand through it. The bones on her neck popped out. She was growing thinner and thinner by the day. She knew it was the drugs. She went under her brown animal skin duvet, and cuddled her pillow. She was going to sleep alone again. The pillow soaked the tears that pumped out from her big brown eyes. She slept, and dreamt of an old bearded man trying to choke her.
                             * * * * * * *

She stared at the cold eba on the dinning table. She stared at the wall clock that hung near the television stand. She stared at the door. Then her vision became clouded with tears. She lay down on the sofa, and kept staring at the door till sleep came. The old bearded man appeared, and once again tried to choke her to death, and once again she was sleeping alone, and her husband was with another woman.
                             * * * * * * *

He knotted his tie, and wore his suit jacket.

'Baby' he called 'am ready to go'.

She stood up from the chair, and walked to meet him.

'Take your medications alright, and don't wait up for me I might be in a late meeting today'.

She nodded numbly. The way he lied, with ease and charm. He pressed a kiss on her cheek, as he grabbed his suit case, and headed to the door.

'Sweetheart heart get me the keys, the door is locked' he said, turning the door knob.

'Ok' she took slow steps to kitchen.

She came back to the sitting room, with the keys on her left hands, and a big gun and rope on her other hand.

'What the fuck are you doing with a gun' he screamed.

She pointed it at him.

'Be calm, I have got enough bullets to blow off your brains. Just do as I say'.

'Eleanor, calm down and put the gun down. Shit! For chriss sake, that stuff is dangerous shit'.

'I am the one with the gun, and I am the one giving the orders. And, I swear with what is left of my womb David, I would blow off your brains and damn the consequences.'

He was sweating all over. His expressions changed sharply; anger, sadness.

'Sit down' she told him pointing at the chair on the dining, with her gun.

'Eleanor you need to take your drugs. Goodness! I have been too busy to look after you. I am sorry'.
He was trying to charm her, to deceive her.

'Just shut up and sit down'. She said in a low voice. She felt weak from her head to her toe. She always felt weak.

He sat down on the chair.

'Don't move' she said, as she walked close to him and stuck the syringe in his arm. He gave a piercing sound, then she watched as he batted his eyelids. He was losing consciousness as she was just gaining hers.
                         * * * * * * *

He woke up. He tried to move his arms but they were stuck.

'No need to struggle' she said.

She was sitting directly in front of him, waving the gun in his face.

'Why are you doing this' he asked, almost choking on his words.

'Because I want to spend time with you' she replied.

'This is no way to spend time with me. Tieing me up, and waving a gun in my face'. He queried.

'I tried to get your attention but you were to busy with the other woman'

'Baby, there is no other woman'

'Shut up'. She screamed.

The lie infuriated her. Such a bastard. She wanted to dive a knife into his eyeball. She picked up one of the knifes she had lain beside her.

'I'd chop your fingers David if you don't tell me her name.

'There is no woman. I swear'. He was lying again.

Anger gripped her. She walked to his back, where his hands stuck out of the rope. She held out his index finger and started cutting.

'Fuck. Shit. Bloody Joe.' He screamed. 'Stop. Her name is Amaka. Just stop please'. He was crying loud.

She stopped, and watched as his blood dripped to the floor. It gave her sinister satisfaction.

'Ok'. She walked back to her sit.

'You deserve every bad thing I can think of doing to you.' Tears rolled down her eyes. The cold was getting the most of her. The pain was eating into her. Cancer was eating up every part of her.

'I am dying. You know I am dying and you throw it in my face. You know I have just few days to live. Yet you can't even wait for me to die before you start cassanoving.' She coughs. A wave of dizziness hits her. She gulps water from a can.

'I am sorry babe'

'What exactly are you sorry about? You have an ice cold heart David. You are so heartless you deserve to die. Don't call me babe again'.

She was shaking, everywhere felt cold. In the past month, her sickness had really kicked in. The sickness that would claim her life. She looked at him, and tears filled her eyes because she had wasted her life loving him. Loving a man that hated her so much he couldn't wait for her to die. Everything in her life, had to be different. Why did she keep loving people that wanted nothing to do with her; her husband, her father, her mother.

Now, she was going to die alone. With no one to hold her hands, and stroke her hair.
She stood up from the chair, and walked out of the sitting room. She locked the door behind her, and took slow and painful steps up to her room. She lay down, and covered herself with a duvet. Shutting his screams that pierced through her walls. At least when she dies, on her bed, he would be in the same house with her, thinking about her. No more drugs to stop the illness from taking her life. She had decided to die. There was no use waiting for a few days or weeks. Nobody wanted her. There was nobody to live for. She was ready to leave forever.

MARRIAGE: THE A-B-C OF IT

The confusion about marriage is not a 'Nigeria thing' it's a 'world thing'. But, the confusion in Nigeria has graduated to madness. Everybody is missing the whole point of this institution. It's has taken a very social meaning. It's now a responsibility that must be carried out; like emptying your waste bin every saturday. It's now a sickness; marriage fever. Men and women have been infected with this illness, and even the married ones are still not free of this social responsibility.
Let me start with the guys: There comes a time in the life of every man when he feels it's time to 'settle down'. This is when the madness creeps in. Every girl becomes a desperate-i-must-get-married-person to you. You begin to read meaning into what is simple. If your girlfriend should insist on seeing your mother, she wants to tie you down. If she talks about children, she is showing signs of desperation.
At a point no girl is good enough for you. You begin to notice that the girl you have been dating for three years isn't good in the kitchen. What of her bed acrobatics? Zero!
Your madness gets to the level that you see a girl in church, praying sincerely to her God, and you are like 'Woah she is prayerful, she would be a good wife'. Or you see a girl playing with her sisters kid, and you are like 'Woah, she is wonderful with kids. She would be a good mother'.
Isn't that madness? Isn't it madness to look for a wife like you shop for a good shoe?
You begin to pick women like they pick beans. You sieve and sieve; you complain,and complain. Ngozi is too fat. When she gives birth to one child now, she would become a bulldozer. Amara is not industrious; I don't want to marry a house wife. Gift is extravagant. She would finish my money.
Now, I am not saying that choosing is bad. I am just saying that whenever you are choosing and picking, and sieving, always remember that the more you look, the less you see. And never forget that word called change. Your angel today, can turn to a witch tomorrow.

Over to the ladies:The craziest of all. The society has unconsciously twisted your psychology - marriage is a do-or-die affair. Not that girls are totally to blame. If you are clocking thirty, and you haven't hooked a man. You become an ashawo that has lost her womb in the course of her job. In short, you are not woman enough. You have a problem. And, not that they are too wrong. Because, even you would begin to act like a mental patient. Everybody begins to look like a potential husband. Even that son-of-a-bitch that beats you black and blue. You begin to attend every wedding you can. You begin to act like a jelly fish; suppressing your personality, dulling your intelligence. So men won't find you intimidating.
Every chance you get, you would make it known to that guy that is financially comfortable, that you can cook soup, and wash cloth like a dry cleaner (essential housewife quality).
Every man/boy/thing (as far as he has a penis) becomes marry-able.
And you are ready to visit the most powerful babalawo, in the deepest of forests, if that your boyfriend you have been 'saving' for marriage gives you hint that there is another girl in the 'wife-to-be-zone'.
You turn into a Lion. If any other Lion enters your territory you would claw, tear, scatter and shed blood.

It's madness....
But we all are or would be victims of this madness. We can only pray that we don't get there. And pray that we understand that life's too short to waste worrying about things that would work out perfectly if we let them be.
Marriage is a chance to let someone else experience your life. A life that you live only once. There is no coming back and un doing your regrets. Or un marrying your husband or wife. Follow your heart most of the way, follow the voice of God (but don't be a religious hypocrite. Don't sleep in the church because you are looking for a husband).
Marriage is not compulsory, but it is extremely necessary. To have someone who would see the world with you. Who at the end of it all would be there for you. It's priceless. It's a gift from God. I believe we all deserve that gift.

WHAT'S LOVE?

I have had my own fair share of relationships. And I just found out that every guy I have dated, I have said 'I love you' to him. I don't know if that makes me a liar. Since I really have not come around to understanding what love is.
The bibles definition of love is absolutely out of this world. Love is not jealous? Really? Like seriously?
Let's just forget about that and focus on the love that is in this world.
What really is love? Is it that period when you feel butterflies in your belly anytime you think of him. Or when you make really stupid decisions because of him.
Abi is love when you refuse to call, even though you are dying to hear his voice, so you would know if he would call first.
Those periods when you skip classes, appointments, girls night outs. Can that be counted as being in love.
Is love when you have the strongest urge to touch him, or have skin contact with him.
Is love that tickling at the back of your ear, or the moisture between your legs( abi we call that one lust, but is it not part of love? Can there be 'love' without lust?)
Or is love, deciding to spend your entire life with someone, because the person is easy to live with, or is available, or is 'good husband, or wife material'.
Or is love a scam, a grandiose word people use to generally refer to attraction to the opposite sex?
That feeling when you can't let go of someone because you have been together for so long, and you can't imagine life without him even though you know letting him go might make you happier. Can you call that attachment you feel for him love? Even if sometimes you think you can do better.

Really I don't know what love means. But I know that I have felt that flush of beauty, and excitement. I have felt that heart cramping they call heart break. I have felt that sickness that leaves you weak, they call crush. I have felt that addiction-like-feeling called obsession. And all these feelings pass. That moment it feels like I would never get over it it. It seems like the feeling would stick with me forever. Like I would choke in the shocking emotions they bring. But, like every other crazy obsessions in my life they all pass. Yet, I heard love dies hard or doesn't even die at all.
Would you say am inexperienced, or can you relate to this. Can I say that truly love is a phenomena that man created to give hope to that hopelessly needy part of us that needs someone to lean on.
Please, What is love?

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THE RANTINGS OF A PAINED NIGERIAN

So I bought this beautiful pumps that cost 8k. Since it is low heeled and fits my black jumpsuit. I decided to wear it and jump bus to see a friend. (Not that I wanted to impress him or anything. Heck! It's comfortable). Now, 8k is not money you see lying on the floor. It's something- a big something.
Anyway, I went to see him; we talked business. And I was frantically watching the time. I knew that once it is 6pm, the traffic on the road to my house would be something else. But I don't know what spirit kept me there, gisting, and staring at fine girls, and fine boys. When I reluctantly decided to stand up and go to my house, it was 6.05pm. I wasn't bothered until I got to the bus stop and saw dozens of people looking for bus - no bus. My palms were getting sweaty as I thought of the way I would jump inside a moving bus, and still manage to safely tuck my purse under my armpits, so that it won't mistakenly slip into the pockets of one of this agbero boys. Bus one came. I saw. I struggled. I lost. Bus two came. Same thing. About five buses stopped, and people rushed in like mad. By the time the sixth bus came, I had already matured into a typical lagos girl. And I fought tooth, nail and hammer to get into the bus.
Finally, I was sitted inside a bus that was almost a molue, except that it was a little smaller, and people were not standing, holding the top rail. I wanted to bring out my phone, so I could at least ping, and pass time, and also take my mind away from the stench that came from the combination of all our sweats - the tension in Lagos can make you sweat in places you never knew could perspire - but the whole place was really cramped, and I couldn't move my hands freely. I decided to do my second best thing; people- watching. So I watched agberos harass bus conductors. Hawkers glued to the side of every bus displaying their wares. I watched policemen gingering one man for only God knows what.
Then we met the traffic. I seriously thought it would clear. Because, ten minutes into the traffic, two people sitting on the same row with me alighted and I stretched my legs a bit, and brought out my phone, and updated 'Traffic o!' on my bbm. Ten minutes later, I realized that the bus wasn't moving. When I realized that technically this was where you stop, and trek through the traffic, the bus was already empty, and the conductor was looking at me as if I am one 'Johnny just come'.
I alighted the bus.It was already evening. My heart was beating. First, because of my Blackberry. Then because the next place I could get a bus to my house was one hour away. The whole thing meant I would trek for one hour.
I trekked, and trekked, and trekked with thousands of people because the road was blocked. The traffic was terrible; it wasn't moving at all. While I was trekking, I was thinking about how we Nigerians are comfortable with things we shouldn't be comfortable with.
Is this how people should live? Like cows? Why do we have to be so quiet when there are so many things to trash out in this country. I later found out that the cause of the traffic was a trailer that one of it's tyre fell into a deep pothole in the middle of the road.
Is it fair, that a road where thousands of commuters ply would be in such a dilapidated state? Is it fair, that a fine girl like me would trek for one hour in the night because of bad roads. Is it fair that, that old woman who had earlier labored in the market selling her cheap atagungun and tomatoes, would close from work, and still be subjected to trekking because of traffic that just wouldn't move. Or is it fair, that the beautiful baby on the back of the woman, that trekked beside me that night, might still be subjected to the same hardship because we have gotten too comfortable with suffering. And we have refused to fight for our rights?
No! It's not fair. We Nigerians don't know we deserve better than the dehumanizing situation we are today.
When I got home, after my one hour walking marathon, not only was I left to nurse my aching muscles and head; I was left to mourn my 8k pumps. Because somehow the road spoilt my shoes. It gave it scratches here and there. No matter how much Kiwi polish I apply on it. It still remains tattered because of that nonsense stone filled road.
We need good roads. We are poor enough. Please Mr president and co don't add trekking to our massive list of problems. Build our roads, we deserve it!

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IS THERE REALLY A REASON?

It's sad, pathetic, painful what bad things have happened in this world - and are still happening. Most times I find them incomprehensible, like the Hitler time. I still stand in awe at the psychology of that man. He is one person I find interesting in a way that annoys me. If you have read about the war, you probably would understand me. The way people were killed like cockroaches, all in the name of some stupid stereotype. Hitler hated the Jews, and he wanted to kill them all; he wanted them to disappear. So he created extermination camps all over, where these jews were sent. Some were killed, some had to starve to death, some had to go through extreme labour till they dropped dead. And children of nine, and ten, and eleven. Really little kids were used for medical experiments - They were cut open while they were still conscious, and those German doctors had their fun with them. I don't want to teach you history -definitely not. But it brings shivers to my body to think that just because a person was a Jew, he totally became an enemy. See! Listen! People died. Over six million jews lost their lives. Just jews. I am not counting the Russians who had their women raped, and most of their able bodied men killed. I am not counting the Romani children. I am not even counting the Germans that were killed during the war. All in all, twelve million people died (that's like wiping out an entire nation).
Do I have to  talk about the Great Famine in China were over 36 million people died? They freaking starved to death. No food, they had to even start eating human flesh. A woman ate her little daughter, and when the older daughter noticed that she might be next, she begged her mother not to kill her, promising that when she grows up, she would make life easier for her. Should I now start with the Hiroshima bomb blast? Even the recent one of the Nuclear weapons in Syria by that Assad guy. What of the Biafra war, in our country, that claimed millions of life.
Now the Philippines are dying. The last time I checked about 10,000 deaths were recorded.
And someone told me, God has a reason for all these. There is a reason He keeps quiet when children die of starvation. There is a reason He keeps quiet when parents bury their children, when some wacko comes into power and decides he wants to fight a war that would consume millions of lives. There is a reason He keeps quiet and watch people commit genocide. There is a reason for Boko Haram. There is a reason for everything. God always has a reason. And sometimes I question whatsoever reason that is. But, somehow I know it's hard for him up there, watching us behave like beasts, killing one another, and hating on each other. So I never question him. I just pray that He helps us, because I know He can.

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