Posts tagged Love

Debby is in Love

Life Diary April 4, 2020 33 Comments

This has one simple message.

The message is that I’m in love. With a man. Man, as in male specie. No, its not my father either.

I.AM.IN.LOVE

This is one experience that beats my writing techniques. How to write a story around my relationship has been eluding me so I’m here to simply type it out.

Debby Adebayo of DebbyHub is in love with a man. Debby Adebayo of Debbyhub is in a romantic relationship.

In conclusion,

1. Ask no questions.

2. God bless you all and happy new month.

As always,

Love and light,

Debby.

My Playing Small Does Not Serve The World || + NLS Dinner Pictures

Educative Life Diary June 22, 2019 8 Comments

I hope to share more stories about myself. I hope to make you read relatable entries about my weaknesses and strengths. While I wait for the presence of mind and resources to write on these as well as I’ll love to, I try to chip in bits and pieces.

Tonight, when I type this, is June 18, 2019. I had my first term dinner tonight at the Nigerian Law school, Bwari campus, Abuja this evening. I decided to fill in my gratitude journal (which I’ll share all about in another blog post). After doing so, I started to read some old entries. Then I stumbled across this saved write-up which I was grateful for some weeks back, and which I’m still grateful for today. I heard it first in the movie, Akeelah and the bee. I must’ve seen that movie for the first time at around age 13. Here’s the quote written by Marianne Williamson which I’ll love to share with you:

“OUR DEEPEST FEAR IS NOT THAT WE ARE INADEQUATE. OUR DEEPEST FEAR IS THAT WE ARE POWERFUL BEYOND MEASURE. IT IS OUR LIGHT, NOT OUR DARKNESS THAT MOST FRIGHTENS US. WE ASK OURSELVES, WHO AM I TO BE BRILLIANT, GORGEOUS, TALENTED, FABULOUS? ACTUALLY, WHO ARE YOU NOT TO BE? YOU ARE A CHILD OF GOD. YOUR PLAYING SMALL DOES NOT SERVE THE WORLD. THERE IS NOTHING ENLIGHTENED ABOUT SHRINKING SO THAT OTHER PEOPLE WON’T FEEL INSECURE AROUND YOU. WE ARE ALL MEANT TO SHINE, AS CHILDREN DO. WE WERE BORN TO MAKE MANIFEST THE GLORY OF GOD THAT IS WITHIN US. IT’S NOT JUST IN SOME OF US; IT’S IN EVERYONE. AND AS WE LET OUR OWN LIGHT SHINE, WE UNCONSCIOUSLY GIVE OTHER PEOPLE PERMISSION TO DO THE SAME. AS WE ARE LIBERATED FROM OUR OWN FEAR, OUR PRESENCE AUTOMATICALLY LIBERATES OTHERS.”

Its a most beautiful quote. Today, I’m grateful that I am liberated to shine, unhindered. Unbothered by popular opinion, I can stand up to my own beliefs and smile for the camera.

Today, I do not ask myself who am I to be brilliant, talented, gorgeous and fabulous. Actually, who am I not to be? I am brilliant, talented, gorgeous and fabulous. I’ll even add that I am an embodiment of uncommon class. And more importantly, I radiate the glory of God.

But this wasn’t always so. I once asked myself all these questions. Sometimes, I still act in ways that show that these questions are still under the surface. Not withstanding, its all getting better. I’m getting better.

In this spirit of joy, here are few pictures from my first term dinner at the Nigerian law school.

A recurring thought to me from this dinner is the issue of fitting in. I believe a part of refusing to play small is refusing to struggle to be seen or to make a point. In your extreme quietness, you’re making enough point. And in your extreme fireworks state, you’re making enough point. Do not tilt to any side to gain the approval of men. Rather, tilt upwards to better yourself.

And I leave you with another quote, however by an unknown writer:

I AM A PERSON. I AM NOT A MACHINE, SPREADSHEET, AGENDA OR RÉSUMÉ. I HAVE A HEARTBEAT, SKIN, SCARS AND A SOUL. MY WORTH ISN’T CALCULATED IN EFFICIENCIES, RESULTS OR LADDERS CLIMBED. I AM NOT THE SUM OF MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS — OR THE SUM OF MY MISTAKES. I AM NOT MY AMBITION, ENERGY LEVEL, APPROVAL RATING, MASS APPEAL OR WORTH TO THE COMPANY STORE. I AM NOT AN A-PLUS OR D-MINUS. I AM NOT A MESS OR A MISCALCULATION. I AM NOT A MISTAKE. RATHER, I AM A MIRACLE. AND SO ARE YOU. BECAUSE I AM A PERSON, MADE OF LOVE IN THE HANDS OF GOD. I WILL BE A PERSON TODAY. I WILL BE ME. I WILL RESIST THE URGE TO BELIEVE I’VE GOT TO FIGHT FOR MY PIECE; GOD SAYS THERE’S MORE THAN ENOUGH TO GO AROUND. I WILL SEE THE BEST IN OTHERS AND RECOGNIZE THE BEST IN MYSELF. I WILL REACH FOR VIRTUE MORE THAN TROPHIES, DIGNITY MORE THAN STARDOM. I WILL CHOOSE ENCOURAGEMENT OVER ENVY. I WILL REJOICE WITH THOSE WHO REJOICE. I WILL STAND TALL ON THE INSIDE, EVEN IF I’M FEELING WEAK ON THE OUTSIDE. I AM A PERSON, A CITIZEN OF THE KINGDOM, WHERE THERE IS UNENDING GRACE FOR ME. BECAUSE I AM A PERSON, AND I BELONG TO JESUS

I hope as I let my light shine continually on this blog, I’m freeing you up to do the same. I hope I give you permission to live your truth today and always.

THERE IS NOTHING ENLIGHTENED ABOUT SHRINKING SO THAT OTHER PEOPLE WON’T FEEL INSECURE AROUND YOU. WE ARE ALL MEANT TO SHINE, AS CHILDREN DO. WE WERE BORN TO MAKE MANIFEST THE GLORY OF GOD THAT IS WITHIN US…

AND AS WE LET OUR OWN LIGHT SHINE, WE UNCONSCIOUSLY GIVE OTHER PEOPLE PERMISSION TO DO THE SAME

If you need to be liberated from any of these questions too, go on ahead and while you’re in the process, celebrate yourself.

Shining as always, Debby.

One day At A Time

Life Diary August 11, 2018

Hiii people.
I debated putting up a post today for one reason: It’s okay.
It’s okay to not put up a post even when I’ve been so consistent in doing so. It’s okay to read for exams and pause blogging for a while.
It’s however interesting that it’s that same reason why I eventually decided to put up this post. It’s okay. It’s okay for me to desire a post at least once a week. It’s okay for me to care for this space so much that I unwittingly find myself back here. It’s okay.
Telling yourself it’s okay is acknowledging your humanity and pressing foward. It’s living simply.
An hymn goes:

One Day At A Time by Cristy Lane

I’m only human, I’m just a woman.
Help me believe in what I could be
And all that I am.
Show me the stairway, I have to climb.
Lord for my sake, teach me to take
One day at a time.

One day at a time sweet Jesus
That’s all I’m asking from you.
Just give me the strength
To do everyday what I have to do.
Yesterday’s gone sweet Jesus
And tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord help me today, show me the way
One day at a time.

Do you remember, when you walked among men?
Well Jesus you know if you’re looking below
It’s worse now, than then.
Cheating and stealing, violence and crime
So for my sake, teach me to take
One day at a time.

One day at a time sweet Jesus
That’s all I’m asking from you.
Just give me the strength
To do everyday what I have to do.
Yesterday’s gone sweet Jesus
And tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord help me today, show me the way
One day at a time.

That’s often my song when everything gets too fast paced and wearisome.
I hope you find it in you to say it’s okay. To admit what’s wrong or right and forge ahead.
I hope you find it in you to believe you’re more than the setbacks you’ve had. That possibly, failure is only failure when you make it so. A living dog is better than a dead lion. Ecclesiastics 9:4
Stay encouraged. Stay on top of your life game. And remember you have no excuse for mediocrity. Read my post on A privileged generation for more clarity. No excuses. Right now, I’m all motivated because I’ve been using the benefits of that generation – can I get an amen? 😀
Do have a great weekend. And take a picture of nature this week! Who knows? You might get a good angle without trying hard. 🍻

With all the Love in my heart,
Debby.

INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM; THE Bible Story of Simon The Pharisee And Jesus.

The Christian Faith July 7, 2018

During the council meeting on Thursday, Simon’s resolve grew stronger. He’d always nursed the thought in his heart, that this Jesus could be the real deal, and if he was but another fake prophet and rabbi, he deserved to be heard at the very least, to be investigated.

His response to the excitement filling him was to rapidly tap his left foot against the ground.

It was the forbidden fruit all over again – restricted areas always have awoken the greatest curiosity. His sister, Ruth, would prepare a befitting meal and Jesus would stop over at his place before leaving Nain, he had it all figured out.
Delighted, he was tempted to laugh aloud but restrained himself. Suppressing his glee, he tuned in once again to the discussion at hand. The Pharisees council of Nain had always been such a heated group of people for a small village 32km southwest of Capernaum.

”…he just wants the crowd!” Someone was saying
”and oh are they following him. Jesus of Nazareth” another scoffed.
”he supports the baptizer, John! And openly claimed he would eat, drink and be a friend to the tax collectors. Tax collectors! What kind of teacher of the law speaks in that manner?”
Simon couldn’t stop himself from venturing the other side, ”but haven’t you heard he healed the widow’s son as they all left the village mourning. Surely the man is worth knowing-”
”we have known ENOUGH. I heard all he had to say once he made mention of John. Surely this one also thinks he is the messiah. Woe betide us, all men are now the chosen one of David’s race, all men are now the messiah!!”

And the murmurs of discontent increased.

Food had been passed and wine served. The meal was nearing completion and Jesus seemed in good spirits. Simon’s alert eyes had noticed his every move, down to the very first fact that his disciples ate without a thorough washing. He stored each detail in mind ready to tell the others. Surely, this man was a prophet, speaking boldly the truth contained in the law.

A pleasant smell filled Simon’s nostrils. In the cacophony of noises as Bartholomew told a story and the men laughed, Simon knew when the masculine smell was infiltrated by a fragrance; a fragrance as appealing as it was disturbing for reasons he couldn’t place his hands on yet, – a sensational fragrance, a forbidden fragrance. Alarmed, he looked up just in time to see the sinner.
He almost swore. In his house!

Almost at once, the male-dominated crowd quietened and most eyes fell on the woman while the remainder fell on him – passing a message, ”Do something.”
But Simon remained rooted on the floor where he sat. He was bewildered that such a sinner woman had even braved entering uninvited in the first place.
Simon’s eyes popped wide as she fell at Jesus’ feet. Her cream coloured cloth lifted with the wind and settled after her as she crouched behind Jesus.
Holy indignation filled Simon. Didn’t Jesus care what he and others thought of him? Didn’t Jesus know that he, Simon, was the only Pharisee to have extended him a warm hand in Nain, and he dared act like a sinner with this woman, this infidel!
His pulse throbbed and he gripped the end of the table cloth to rein in his anger as much as he could.
The scent of fragrant perfume filled the house, as an alabaster box broke, overpowering the combined smell of food, masculinity and even her own fragrance that had previously filled the air.
The other men around the house stood to gain a clearer picture of the baffling activity, some gasping.
Her heavy sobs pierced the silence. Each sound of the sob fuelled the inferno burning in Simon, no prostitute or beggar or tax collector had stepped foot in his house right since he’d lived there and in the one day this Jesus came, his house became unclean with this terrible sinner.

He couldn’t help the regret that gnawed at him, he’d been forewarned, Jesus was nothing but an impostor, a wolf in sheep clothing. Surely a prophet would’ve known what sort of woman touched him; even a beggar would’ve known!
Jesus, hearing Simon’s thoughts as clear as day, chose to speak with him. In the many pairs of eyes that followed him, Jesus knew exactly where to look. His eyes found Simon’s and with a levelled gave he spoke. ”Simon,’‘
”Teacher.” teacher. That word still befitted the man for reasons Simon couldn’t place as he had an aura of authority. The fire burning in him began to die and Simon knew he needed to keep that anger burning.
”I have something to tell you.’‘ Jesus replied and Simon nodded.
“A man loaned money to two people—500 pieces of silver to one and 50 pieces to the other. But neither of the men could repay him after. This man was however kind enough to cancel their debts. Now who do you think will love him the most?”

Simon didn’t need to think hard, his heart fluttered and he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Shame started to take hold of where anger had been. ”I suppose the one who had been forgiven the largest debt”.
Whatever stone had sank was lodged there at the pit of his stomach and for the first time in many years, without accusing words, Simon knew he wasn’t as pure as he’d always thought.
“That’s right,” Jesus said. Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Look at this woman kneeling here. When I entered your home, you didn’t offer me water to wash the dust from my feet,’‘

Rejection wrapped round Simon, Jesus was right. The night air became cold, all laughter and feasting from earlier on, forgotten. Of course, it was only proper custom to offer guests water for washing their feet. He hadn’t been after honouring Jesus at all, so he had no troubles neglecting that custom.
”… but she has washed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn’t greet me with a kiss, but from the time I first came in, she has not stopped kissing my feet.”
Simon broke inside. He saw for the first time what he had never seen in his many years of being a Pharisee, in his years of laying heavy rules on people while priding in his own obedience to the law. Light shone and he saw himself for who he really was. Flawed yet proud.
” …You neglected the courtesy of olive oil to anoint my head, but she has anointed my feet with rare perfume. I tell you, her sins—and yes, they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.”

Turning to the woman, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
The men at the table said among themselves, “Who is this man, that he goes around forgiving sins?”

But those were no longer Simon’s thoughts. Jesus had in that simple parable and intense gaze showed him what he had overlooked. Looking at Jesus, his heart broke, contrite his thoughts had changed ”forgive me my 500-silver-coin-worth of many sins, Lord. Please forgive me. I have judged others and thought myself better. I have not honoured you as I should. I need to love you more for I am but a sinful man”.

A person who believes they haven’t sinned like the cultist has, is rarely ever repentant. Like Simon, they skip the real details of honour, they forget to wash and anoint his feet.
You only love him to the degree you’ve come to realize your former depravity and the magnitude of his love and grace in forgiving you. I’ve known this message below for some many years:

”some people tell me I take this Jesus thing a little too seriously, I tell them, I guess he took me pretty seriously when he chose to be nailed to a cross for me’‘

The lyrics of a certain song goes thus:
‘‘why should I care what people say? They don’t know what you mean to me”.
You can lavish your love on Jesus, pouring all you’ve ever made and treasure at his feet, when you understand the great depths he went to save you; when you realize you’re the one who owed a employee’s daily wage for 500days and deserved to be locked in utter darkness but he forgave you.

A/N:

1. This is a fictional account of the story contained in Luke 7:36 – 50. For example, we are not told of Simon’s sister who in this fictional account, prepared the meal

2.The events of this story could have taken place at Capernaum and not Nain. Some say Bethany. Commentators are not sure where exactly.

I hope it has blessed you. If you like this post, you may find this on the violent storm too interesting too.
Comment away…

Much love,
Debby.

Affirmations; in honour of the girl who believed in my lawyerly skills

Educative June 27, 2018

I have noticed that there’s so much shaming, people-bashing or deliberate subbing and shading of our fellows. I say our fellows because there’s a bond there. You are forced to consider that they aren’t just ‘others’. They’re just like you. Sincerely.
Why the attitude?
I’m certain we’ve all heard it said once or twice that someone else’s candle being lit doesn’t stop yours from shining. You have to understand that.
Another psychological cause I can think of is this: maybe we all really feel slightly flawed, so when we see some other person being proven as a flawed individual, it assails our troubled minds. They say misery loves company, right? It probably makes you feel you’re not the blackest of the sheep. Perhaps human nature revels in that.
Or what exactly?
Whatever it is that it is the cause, I’m certain giving off an attitude isn’t the way forward. Are you familiar with the phrase ”pay it forward?”. Simply put, any good thing you do today to help others, indirectly has a way of helping you tomorrow. So, help someone.
How?
Try by being more conscious of those around you and offering something positive rather than offering nothing.
Examples:

Give them the opportunity to do things you never got the opportunty to do (this may be hard but you have to.)

Be totally honest with them both in praises and in criticism. I, for one, can always tell when a criticism is coming from the right place and it goes to show you believe in my capacity to do better.

Tell people when you think they’re doing something courageous or have something extraordinary.

Speak with(not at) peope. It gives people a sense of worthiness. In other words, let people’s opinions count with you. You’re not the boss of the world. Listen.

Appreciate the efforts of someone significantly younger than you or a child. You rarely know it, but it goes a long long way. It’s an “Endorsement from above” lol. Try it, you’ll see, there’s pleasure in strengthening the resolve of someone younger.
Show kindness to a stranger (someone who can’t repay you).

Affirm people during conversations ( it shows you value their personhood):

Look at people during conversations, no matter how short the discussion is. I’m serious here. Look. Don’t be that insensitive person who is always doing something else when people are talking to them. If you have to do something simultaneously, apologize and explain your position.
Another angle to the one above, is when you’re busy or talking to someone else, don’t act like you can’t hear your name being called by another person. Acknowledge the caller, then ask for a minute.

I think we can do beyond believeing in people, we can let them know we believe in them.
#youcanseatwithus not #youcantseatwithus. Not squad squad all the time. Others that aren’t your friends are great too.
And with your friends? Don’t be selfish too. Their success shouldn’t threaten yours.
Why do I really believe in this?
Last week, I found this piece I once wrote in my journal:
”…When I got admission to study law in the first and the best university, my friend sent exactly this to me:

” DEBORAH I think I should congratulate you again on your admission. I believe you are going to be a great lawyer…nothing else suits you more…and I’m damn serious…be a good girl in school. Go out there and illuminate your world. Never stop being a Jesus fan”

Till date she has no idea how much those words meant to me, coming from another aspiring lawyer. “Nothing else suits you more.”.
Shout out to Desola Ibukunoluwa Olosunde. This blog post is dedicated to you.
I hope you get to affirm one person today or tomorrow and then all the days of your life! Its really what God does all through the bible if you observe.

An anxious heart weighs a man down but a kind word cheers him up

Peace and Afirmations,
Debby

My Parable of the parable.

Life Diary The Christian Faith May 26, 2018

Guys, read this:
Luke 15: 8-10

“Or what woman, having ten [silver] drachmas [each one equal to a day’s wages], if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and look carefully and diligently until she finds it?
9And when she has found it, she summons her [women] friends and neighbors, saying, Rejoice with me, for I have found the silver coin which I had lost.
10Even so, I tell you, there is joy among and in the presence of the angels of God over one [[e]especially] wicked person who repents ([f]changes his mind for the better, heartily amending his ways, with abhorrence of his past sins).

I now understand the parable of the lost coin better. I’ll explain.

Two weeks ago I wrote something important in this big notebook in the picture. A week later, I needed to use the information. I couldn’t find the book. I was surprised. I wasn’t careless with it at all. I was even sure it never left my room. Still, I didn’t locate the book. Life went on without that information.
.
Early this morning, while preparing to go with a group of people for a conference, I began to search for “the parable of the dollars” in that picture. I bought this book three weeks ago. I read the preface and was happy it’s a loaded book. I hoped to read it later. Today would’ve been the ‘later’. I’d just read it when I’m less busy during my outing.
.
However I couldn’t find the book. A complete mystery. I searched my book pile over and over again. It was obviously not there but my eyes would not receive that report. My eyes kept going over each of the books. It troubled me a lot. I can’t lose my books. I didn’t give it to anyone. Where is my new book?
.
I recieved a call that the group I was to go with was ready. I left unsatisfied and the first thing I told my friend when I saw her was “I can’t find my book”. That was my preoccupation for a long time. My missing book.
Tonight, I searched again. Still missing from my book pile. Then I got on all fours and pulled out a drawer of another completely different set of books.
Finally, both of these books were buried under those books.
.
I rejoiced. The first thing I did was take a picture and type to the same friend on whatsapp “I’ve found my books”.
Then I understood.
If scripture says the woman lit up a lamp, took a broom and swept everywhere carefully and diligently until she found the lost coin, then it must be true.
She didn’t think “I have other coins“. I also didn’t think “I have other books”. I didn’t say this book is worth just a little amount and I’ll replace it. I did everything for it.
One book but every one book matters to me.
One soul but every one soul matters to God. When I found it, I, immediately in a spirit of merriment, took a picture and sent it to my friend. I was in essence saying come and rejoice with me. Again, I’m telling you all, come and rejoice with me. I’ve found my missing book that matters to me. I’m serious.
But beyond that, does the whole of heaven really do what I did? Does the host of heaven go down all all fours, digging and digging and digging for one soul? Searching for “just” one sinner?
Did they do that for me? Are they doing that for you or for that person you love?
Wow.
Wow.

And what’s up with this rhyme, people? The book is “the parable of dollars”, in reference to the story of the parable of talents in the bible.
The story I quoted in the post above is the parable of the lost coin. My own experience is the parable of the lost book. 😊
Please rejoice with me. And forever remember how interested heaven is in you and yours. Just remember all fours!

BOOK REVIEW–STAY WITH ME

Book Reviews April 27, 2017

The major themes in this book are captured in the blurb:

“…this is a devastating story of the fragility of married love, the undoing of family,the wretchedness of grief, and the all consuming bond of motherhood”

The story opens up in 2008 and we find a seemingly lonely woman, Yejide, and she directs her thoughts to someone. We’re intruders into this baring of her soul.
It’s direct and we’re not ushered into the book carefully. We must follow on to see who she converses with, in her head.
We’re taken back to 1985 to encounter her life with her husband and how their bliss is often punctuated by the offending relatives who proffer solutions to Yejide’s “barreness“. She often stays on her knees, smiling as they speak, after which she observes the routine of offering them food; their choice often being pounded yam.
Akin, her husband, types away on his phone every time they talk and the illiterate relatives are happy he is paying detailed attention to their words, but what he really does is write his to-do-list for the week.
This scene we’re open to is, however, different. She becomes the first wife, iyale, with hopes that the new wife, Funmi, will give birth and this will usher in the children she needs.

“Our wife, our people say that when a man has a possession and it becomes two, he does not become angry, right?” Baba Lola said.
I nodded and smiled.
“Well our wife, this is your new wife. It is one child that calls another one into this world. Who knows, the king in heaven may answer your prayers because of this wife. Once she gets pregnant and has a child, we are sure you will have one too”

Yejide’s world seems to end.

“I did not feel better. I would not feel better for a very long time. already, I was coming undone, like a hastily tied scarf coming loose, on the ground before the owner is aware of it.”

We are introduced to Akin’s view of her and we see immense love. Similar to Ifemelu and Obinze’s, if you know what I mean. We’re flattered by his love but we’re soon to find out there are things even love, can’t fix.
Life goes on, and all Funmi does, in spite of herself, is to strengthen the bond between the two. We see an example when armed robbers visit their house and leave. Upon hearing a gunshot, Akin made Yejide lie down and stayed atop her and didn’t shift till day break, not even when Funmi asked if he didn’t care about her too. When she cried, he said nothing but went out to check what had happened.
The armed robbers are ushered in, along with developments in the country. We discover the time when estates had no fences and armed robbers began to send letters of intended attacks, and how ridiculous it had appeared at the first. They followed it up with detailed letters adressed to each home; to one, on family planning; to one, of lovers etc, there is dread.
We move into that era where everyone left the radio in their homes on when they went out, to wade off robbers, giving an impression someone is at home.
We’re also nudged into the happenings in the political sector and we live through each coup d’etat that happens. We also experience the anticipation and doubt that follows the announcement of a change from military rule to democracy, the 1993 election, and the pinning after news.
Funmi, is in effect, not the end of their lives.
The book made me appreciate life some years back and the richness of culture at the time. There are a number of Yoruba proverbs and innuendos.
Yejide and Akin try to cope with the expectation of family life. We find out the impact of hate and acceptance from siblings and parents. We understand sacrifices made for family as we’re lead through yoruba folklore stories told to children.
The plot climaxes and the attrocities man is capable of, begins to get revealed, but it is cloaked with good intentions and we observe the “desperate attempts to save ourselves and the people we love from heartbreak” even when it fails.
The book is written in a 1st person POV alternatively between Yejide and Akin. I could follow the common thread of the book easily.
The style is semi-formal. The language is clear and well defined. I particularly enjoyed the way the author weaved her words.
The author, Ayobami Adebayo, has published stories in magazines and anthologies and this book has been shortlisted for bailey’s prize for women’s fiction.
The publisher is Ouida books. It’s been published in the U.k and came out in Nigeria only a week and two days ago . It has 306 pages. I bought it for 3,000 naira having ordered it through roving heights.
ISBN 978-978-959-320-0.
The main characters are Akinyele, Yejide, Yejide’s stepmothers, Dotun, Moomi, iya Bolu. The characters are credible. The characters run into a million problems. Yejide is my favourite character especially her OAU version. Her reasoning is relatable.
I like the book.
I believe everyone who is exposed to adulthood would appreciate this book. I recommend it to those who value family and I rate it 4.5/5stars.
Other excerpts:
On rejection from family:

“Two weeks later, her father died and I was shocked by how her step mothers went out of their way to ensure Yejide stood without any family member at her side. They all moved from one side of the grave to another so that Yejide and I stood alone like outcasts. When I nudged Yejide and asked that we both follow her siblings and step mothers, she smiled and told me they’d moved because of her and if we went to their side, they would simply all move again”

“We can’t keep fighting over this thing, you know. We are brothers, we are blood. A woman can divorce you, family can’t…brother mii, get this right, you can’t fight with me

“

On love:

“I loved Yejide from the very first moment. No doubt about that. But there are things even love can’t do. Before I got married, I believed love could do anything . I learned soon enough that it couldn’t bear the weight of our years without children. If the burden is too much and stays too long, even love bends,cracks, comes close to breaking and even sometimes does break. But even when it is a million pieces around your feet, that doesn’t means it’s no longer love”

”

It was not the outrage in Iya Martha’s scream that stopped my words. It was the tender way Akin’s thumb stroked my Palm. I looked away from his eyes”

On family:

“Every time he married a new wife, my father would tell his children that a family was about having people who would look for you if you got kidnapped. It was a bad joke and I was the only one who ever laughed . I laughed at all his jokes. I think he believed in this myth of his large harmonious family. He probably thought i would still visit my stepmothers after his death.”

“I sat by his bed looking, waiting for the faintest signs that he had decided to return to me. There was no sign. I was afraid to touch him,afraid that my touch might stress him and carry him into the unknown, away from me, forever. By the third day I was on my knees praying to him in muttered words only I could hear saanu mi, malo, omo mi, joo nitori olorun. Saanu mi. Duro timi. Have mercy on me,don’t go please. Stay with me. “
“…and your family, which for a misguided period, I thought was mine”
“I was not strong enough to love when I could loose again”

On having children:

“I never began the story with moomi’s olomo lo l’aye saying. I’d believed her once, I’d accepted it- like the tortoise and his wife- that there was no way to be in the world without offspring. And though I told Rotimi the story many times, I no longer believed that having a child was equal to owning the world”

Debby
What do you think? Have you read this book? Are you interested? The conversation never stops. Don’t forget to share too!

Peacemakers

Life Diary Non-Fiction March 5, 2017

Have you ever spoken up when you saw something going on that was wrong? Were you scared? What ended up happening?”

When I saw this prompt, everything went silent in my head. Silent. Of course I knew I had spoken up after seeing some wrongs being perpetuated a number of times but… the kind of example I wanted to tell wasn’t coming to mind.
As I saw that prompt, what I interpreted it to be was: “have you ever spoken up for someone when …” Not just “spoken up when you saw something wrong … “.
I have. It was a little activist work but I hope it matters. It was random but I pray she remembers it. It wasn’t the “lasting effect” type I suppose some people would think, because there wasn’t some quote from the scriptures to accompany it. But as I wondered if it could actually be of lasting effect, I remembered :

“blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called children of God” matt5:9

I’m a peacemaker. Amidst other things, I’m an advocate for you, as a person, making peace with yourself.
It was December 12 , 2016. The chapel Carol was slated for that day. Chapel of the resurrection, UI has three youth fellowships: IVCU. SCM. TYF. The Carol was designed for the three fellowships and the Chapel children.
An hour before the Carol, I’m walking in the Chapel basement and I stop. I’m speaking with the sisters coordinator of my fellowship who doubles as my friend.
Someone else comes along. She walks briskly in a white dress that has full gathers at the waist. She has her hair let down; it’s a straight, black and shiny weave. I’m thinking it’s similar to the classic weavon I once fixed while in 100level.
She speaks quickly in the straight-to-the-fact manner of someone who has a program to oversee. Compere, I guess. She speaks kindly. She speaks with what I term butterfly flutters( I won’t explain this).
She asks my sisters coordinator cum friend , if she will be available to help with the distribution of the snacks as they had planned.
My friend twirls around and points at me. “she’ll help you”, she says.
Fast forward to three hours later, I join the preparation for distribution of snacks outside as the carol comes to a close.
The strategy is settled now and we’re waiting outside the auditorium for the proper time to begin sharing them.
Children are running everywhere. Screaming too. I’m lost in the melody of my mind.
Then I hear an indistinct conversation.
He is young and has an uplifted chin that forever gives him the appearance of a person wearing a smile. He is somewhat dark and short. He speaks with the air of someone who is familiar with people. He is older than she is.
My first observation – She is normal. His words, however, jolt me to notice the first observation of some other people. She is fat.
“… So” he drawls “you’ve been eating abi” he says.
She laughs in a manner and shakes her head.
“No? I can see it on you o or how have you gained weight again, ehn? What happened to exercising? You just stuff everything in your mouth. So do you like it this way now? You just keep eating, eating” he says. There is no hint of condensation in his voice. He is just speaking.
She keeps laughing as he speaks and somewhere in between manages things like “Nooo”
I sigh.
She is young. Maybe 15 or 16 years of age. She appears naive and worse still, used to ill treatment. Of course she doesn’t recognize this as an ill treatment.
I sigh again.
I speak before my ears take in too much of his words and before it is time to share the snacks. The children are still screaming and running. It’s a normal setting outside the chapel auditorium, just as the dusk falls .
“can I say something?” I ask him” I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation”
He looks at me. He is still shorter than I am. He has that appearance and I can’t tell if he smiles at me or its the cheek bone doing its trick again.
“yes” he says. I suspect it’s the former option. He smiles. He assumes I want to endorse his words or something.
“she shouldn’t stop eating just because she is fat. Who can really tell if she eats too much? If a slim person eats double the size she does, will it be okay in that case? ”
” oh no no. We understand each other. She knows I’m not insulting her” he says.
Did I expect a different response?
Blessed are the peace makers for they shall be called the children of God.
I hope my words stuck with her that night. I hope she remembers it in years to come. I hope she doesn’t allow people tell her that sort of thing. I hope in the midst of some of those self depreciating laughs, if she still does, my words ring in her ears, uninvited, without prior notice.
I hope she makes peace with herself.
This is my way of lending my voice to say stop shaming. Please stop it. As long as you’re aware you have no real point, please stop it. There are implications to this thing which you may not see everyday but it surely occurs. Some people develop Bulimia, others Anorexia. Or low self esteem.
The people you call fat, don’t have to run the miles that slim people never have to consider in a decade, just to be in the shape that you endorse. If it’s for healthy living, no problem. If you’re in an unhealthy place, then make a commitment to better living, good. That’s different.
The people you call fat don’t have to eat one scoop of Mandarin ice cream flavor(maybe once in two years) and ten scoops of guilt alongside. Only guilt? No, alongside pain and self doubt. Low self esteem.
Always let people thrive. People have enough reasons to cause them doubt in their lifetime than for you to add to the list quite deliberately or carelessly.
Blessed are the peace makers for they shall be called children of God.
I hope you find peace with yourself.

Debby.

Dear Fearful Christian,

The Christian Faith September 9, 2016

Sweep the ocean floors
will you?
I will do so with you
We need little water
little
Just up to our necks
Every once in a while
Watch the fireworks at night
Will you?
Let nature perform it’s wonders
and your eyes the gazing
Your mouth the laughing
Let your mind be awed
Let your skirt like mine sweep the sand of the beach
Flutter in the wind
Try it
Loose the bands on your hair
You won’t be unholy
Just the wind. A little wind
Call out to the God of zion
He loves air just like you do
Don’t be afraid.
You’re still holy
Let it echo when u find out
What holiness really means

FORGIVENESS

The Christian Faith May 26, 2016

Currently: sitting by the window facing the front porch of my house. Watching a flower dance in its pot. I’m occasionally gazing at the tree in my neighbour’s house. I choose to blog

As we grow older, our capacity ought to expand. I refuse to be a 12 year old girl in a 3year old body. At 3 years, the toddler could and would drink water. At 12, she can and would drink but with much more capacity than she did at 3. capacity.
Normally, I’m all shades of good. So I hated it as in turns my good natured attributes got ruffled. The calm superfluity I had, began to dissolve and I saw anger, I saw unforgiveness and I just wouldn’t believe it.
The truth is, it was the new me. I had grown.

When a flower grows, it loses it’s form, grows in every direction, still the same bright leaves, it blooms and glows. It’s still gracious but it has thorns sticking out, it is formless unless the gardener takes the shears and prunes.

John15:2: “…and he prunes every branch that does bear fruit, so that it will be clean and bear more fruit”

A few months ago, I saw unforgiveness was very very ugly, I tell you. Every time I pictured the devil as a young girl, he was ugly but the unforgiveness I saw, was uglier than I had ever imagined. It baffled me. It was sticking out of me. I was able to forgive eventually as God helped me.

2cor3:5 “not that we think we are of ourselves sufficient to do anything but our sufficiency is of God”

The case this time around wasn’t forgiving someone else. It was forgiving myself. I did something I regretted, to put it simply. I didn’t want to pray, I felt I had failed God. Then I remembered some Christian literature I had read saying after you’ve sinned, God is most ready to hear you pray. Ask for forgiveness. It is cheating to think you’re ‘protecting God’ and hence refuse to speak to him with your defiled self. He wants you to come so he can wash you and restore you.

So it’s two themes in my head: Forgiveness and Writing. I have obtained forgiveness from God but how about that other theme? See, I got encouragement to ask for forgiveness without wasting time because I had read.

I know people who still read. This blog inclusive. Thus, I’m writing.

I don’t believe one who was “despised, and rejected, who endured suffering and pain. No one would even look at him, we ignored him as if he were nothing “Isaiah53:3 yet was enduring the suffering that was meant to be ours, would now choose not to forgive us when we return to him. No.

It turns out that my last blog post had a major theme of forgiveness. I gave some excerpts, some of which I’ll quote again. We need to forgive people. We need to forgive ourselves and accept God’s forgiveness. As we grow, we need our spirit man to grow so we can forgive better than we did yesterday because today’s offence is stronger than that of yesterday. we need to love more fiercely. We need more.
The quotes:

“I did it to myself . I did it to myself. mea culpa, mea culpa”

Is not the strategy to take, nope, and that’s because

“God doesn’t condemn he forgives”

Yes

“She looked at him bleakly: ‘your kind of love can’t feel good’
‘Does your kind feel any better?’ she looked away.
He unlooped the reins. ‘right now love doesn’t have an awful lot to do with feelings‘ he said grimly
‘don’t misunderstand I’m as human as the next man. I feel alright. I feel plenty right now, a lot I wished I didn’t’ “

he says love doesn’t have a awful lot to do with feelings. God loves us inspite. Just come

” he[Jesus] was a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way when he went by. He was despised and we did not care. Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins!” Isaiah 53;3,4

Still in doubt?

Currently: sitting by the window, my back to the flower still dancing in it’s pot. My body given to typing and eating something yellow again( I did not plan it, seriously!) loool.
What has been your experience on giving and accepting forgiveness?

Love, forgiveness and yellow meals
Debby

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