Category: life

It’s a few minutes to 9am. I’m sitting alone, sipping my coffee…black, no sugar, trying to finish the last few pages of my current read ‘The Flat Share’…a book by Beth O’Leary.

It was either the book, a recording on my podcast ‘Reading with Emaistace’ or a little scribbling in a journal my cousin gave to me. The book won.

Well, now I guess I can say the book ended up losing because here I am, writing this piece.

I’ve been alone like this for the past forty seven minutes and it’s the most alone time I’ve had in the past five days. That’s a long time…for me. It’s no wonder I have been unable to give my best, both at work and at home.

It’s how I refuel,  a little alone time each day… To read, write, listen to music, watch something I love or watch some sermons.

Refueling oneself is making time to create positive energy to enable you tackle obstacles/challenges and then achieve success. It’s just like a car. It can’t move on zero fuel.

…but the key thing, I believe, is to find the right fuel for your personality and also for the season/reason. I’ve had days when I’ve needed to refuel with something other than alone time, like an evening out with a few friends or a weekend away with my sister’s where we talk and hardly sleep.

Some people refuel with physical exercise at the gym or a long run. For some, it’s being with people, partying and dancing. Different strokes…

A few days ago, my cousin Ngodoo shared a meme on our family’s WhatsApp group that read “Deep question for your friends, if I went to Jail, what would you think I had done?”… Angela listed a few crimes for a few family members but she didn’t list any for me. So when I cried “Do me, Do me, Do me” and her response was “taking too much time to be alone”, I knew she was right.

Guilty as charged.

How do you refuel?

Will we see the light again?

The night is so dark

We sit afar, we sit close

Whispering to each other, laughing together

We are so happy…we have each other

…but there’s just that one thing

It’s too dark in here

Will he notice? How dark it is

Will he see, that we can’t walk?

That one of us lost a hand?

And the other never had one at all?

Can he see? that our eyes are sunken

Our necks are brittle

Our thirsty mouths and throat yearn for water

Lips, cracked and dry

But he is with us, even as we sit in the dark

We see him see us from his high and brightly lit corner

But maybe he didn’t see, maybe he can’t see

But what about his mind?

What goes through it at night?

That moment when he’s about to go to sleep?

Does his mind not see?

I may just keep wondering

as we wait

As we hope

That one day, someone,

Maybe not even him

will shine a light

And swallow up all the darkness

A few weeks ago, I lost a colleague to the cold hands of death. The funeral program clashed with my activities but I was going to be available for the third and final day for the lowering of the casket to the ground.

Where I’m from (and it’s where my late colleague comes from too), it’s usually a three day funeral program.

On the first day, there’s usually a church service and sometimes a “lying in state” in the town home of the deceased. If is often followed with a wake on same night.

On the second day, the body leaves the town home for the country home (we call it Village) for a wake.

On the third and final day, the casket is lowered into the grave after a church service or Catholic mass; depending on where the deceased worshipped before their call. This is usually at dawn.

And so, while it was still dark on the morning of the third day, I set out for the village, it was a fifty minute drive. I got to the village and asked for directions to the exact compound, I was shown a narrow road to follow and a guide; “Just a little drive, you’ll find a small market and then it’s a little further on the right”.

With the company of my car radio, I set out for the little drive. It had rained the previous night and so I was glad that some farmers had come out to till the soil for planting because this was no little drive, the road wouldn’t just end.

I paused after fifteen minutes to inquire from the fifth farmer I had just spotted. “Yes, you are on the right track, it’s not far, just ahead” he assured me. I continued on the small, dusty, lonely (but for a few farmers) and rocky road for another ten minutes and then I reached the small market.  It too twenty five minutes to find a place that was said to be “just a little drive” ahead.

I remembered that I was told to go a little on my right and so I braced myself for another “little” drive. I arrived my destination in sixteen minutes. The little drive took me  forty one minutes.

I was able to catch up with the final activity. The deceased had been a well respected person, and so a lot of people had a lot to say. All these had to be said before he would be lowered into the ground and so the delay was in my favour.

I recall this story today as I compare my patience with that of the folks back home in the village, I realized that the forty one minute drive that seemed like forever to me was just a little distance to them, and they often covered that distance on foot.

I wonder how many times I may have missed out on some opportunities just because I couldn’t wait a little longer, go a little further. What is it exactly that I run off to? My couch back home? A movie I want to see? I think city/modern life and it’s distractions have played a major role in this impatient person I have become.

I envy the folks back home.

It’s funny how in a particular season we may have felt very passionate about a thing and several seasons later, it feels like it may have been an entire lifetime ago.

Our eldest sister shared some old photos with my other sisters and I, and we got talking about the old times and how every photo told a different story. We talked about striving in the midst of tough times and how to keep our heads above water in those times too. We agreed that seasons change and nothing is ever permanent.

Angela shared a song with us; The Story I’ll Tell by Maverick City Music, and she said; “This song encourages me a lot.
It helps me see that the end is good and different from whatever I may be experiencing now. I’ve sang and listened to it so many times in the past year. “

This song she shared sent me down memory lane. It reminded me of a time when it was my life’s theme song. I can’t believe I almost forgot about it.

I began to remember that season and all that led to picking the theme song. I remembered how writing was my go-to place and how it made me feel a whole lot better whenever I began to feel heavy.

…and so I went back to everything I had written then and I read all of it.

I saw myself making notes as if I was reading something someone else had written. It all felt so new to me.

I know some people don’t believe in going over the past but I’m beginning to think it’s something I might start to take seriously, especially the positive things that can help me remember how and why I made certain decisions and how I got here; where I am right now.

I’m glad my sister regurgitated old photos for us to chew and ruminate on and that I did the same to my old scribbles and writings. 

I wonder, do the animals feel the same way when they chew the Cud?

The story of how I found a home church is one I really want to tell, and even though I still won’t tell it in this piece, I will tell about an amazing Sunday service I had today at my home church; House on the Rock, Makurdi.

I call it home church because I am an online member of Elevation Church.

I was absent from church last Sunday so I understand why I may have missed the information about today being our Pastor’s appreciation service at House on the Rock Makurdi.

It was an activity packed service.

The pastor had his 47th birthday on Friday, the 12^th day of April, so it was just right, as is the practice I presume.

A period of about one hour was set aside for presentations and there were lots of them; presentations.

A few of these presentations caught my hearts attention.

The Children made a big show of listing out the pastor’s qualities by the alphabets that spelt his name. It was pretty and cute.

The Woman to Woman group (women’s fellowship) danced to up to him with the song Tobechuckwu and they prayed for him and thanked him for always being there for them at their different and various times of need. They and the church agreed that the pastor fit into all the qualities of I Timothy 3:2.

The Kingdom Men’s Network (Men’s fellowship were not exempted. They had a gift packed and said they were glad that the pastor was a member of their own group of well-wishers.

My heart began to warm with the Teenagers. They had a dance choreography and it was lovely. I love how young people think outside the box. They gave what they had; a dance.

Sozo Theatre and Yada Company, the drama and choirs departments had dramatic and musical presentations. Kind of like the teens I guess.

Now, what got me really excited was the presentation by the Youth Corp members of the church. They came in, “fully kitted” with a parade and a speech. They thanked the pastor for making them feel like they were at home, even in a strange land.

You see, Youth Corp members are young adults, who having completed their university education, are mandated to serve the nation by allowing the government to send them to any part of the country to live and work for a duration of one year. These young adults often feel lonely in these strange palaces, but it is clear that the pastor made sure these ones didn’t feel that way.

At the end of all the appreciation, birthday wishes and presentations, we had a guest minister, he has been a friend of the pastor for over 21 years and he served a beautiful and powerful message on sanctification.

I’m glad I didn’t miss it for anything.

Happy Birthday Pastor Paul Igomu Pius

I appreciate you.

“I once heard a smart person point out that it’s hard to determine where the dividing line is between cheesiness and acceptable emotional extravagance”… “I know exactly where the line is. When it’s happening to other people, it’s cheesy. When it’s happening to you, it’s wonderful”.

From Noah to Sally in Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld

We all have that one person. The one that really crossed the line. We see them sometimes when we close our eyes, we remember that evil thing they did.

Even when they show up again, doing something beautiful, we turn away because we can’t forget the unforgivable.

Only problem is, this person isn’t real. Just a character who played a role. An unfortunate role. Played so well, it felt so real.

Oh you villain…

I’ve heard people mention Anthony Starr (Homelander), Joaquin Phoenix (Gladiator), Tobias Menzies (Outlander)…

I have a few of them.

Ed Speleers (Outlander – Stephen Bonnet) is one of them. He caused me to have some very sad days.

…but I want to forgive him.

It’s why I want to be the first person to see Irish Wish when it drops tomorrow on Netflix.

It looks pretty cool, judging by it’s trailer.

I hope the movie…and his character, warm my heart enough to move him from that dark place I left him long ago.