tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45285687931501693692024-03-18T10:48:27.773+01:00When I moved back to Nigeria...Restless, excited and idealistic. Young female Nigerian decides to shed the foreigner status and return home. With nothing but a bachelor's degree, a green passport and a healthy dose of optimism, will she thrive or run back to the Americans to let her in? Read on...BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-19646657561546539842015-03-30T16:33:00.001+01:002015-03-30T16:33:07.497+01:00Nigeria Decides! Follow the live coverage of the 2015 election votes now!Good morning Diaspora!<br />
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Who is following the collation of results? <br />
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Keep up with the 2015 Presidential elections via Channels TV online:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ANM-dq5USTc" width="560"></iframe><br />BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-48781112923539267002015-03-28T11:59:00.001+01:002015-03-28T12:02:39.435+01:00Election Day Nigeria 2015 - It's time to Vote!Good morning diaspora! <br />
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Today is Election day and I'm in Lagos!<br />
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Below is a photo of the Google Nigeria home page (google.com.ng) featuring an appropriately themed doodle of a spinning ballot box in the green white green Nigerian flag colors:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMcFyjDvriE/VRaG8XxvyMI/AAAAAAAAAeo/UM4BiORSSlo/s1600/Screenshot%2B(11).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMcFyjDvriE/VRaG8XxvyMI/AAAAAAAAAeo/UM4BiORSSlo/s1600/Screenshot%2B(11).png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you're in the diaspora, and want to follow the coverage live, Channels TV is your best bet. They stream their broadcast live at <a href="http://www.channelstv.com/live/">http://www.channelstv.com/live/</a><br />
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You can also download Channels app to smart devices and follow them on their various social media platforms for up to date and independent reporting on election day voting!<br />
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If you're home side and you've got your voter's card, do your part and vote! If you can't, stay engaged and join the conversation online.<br />
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It's our Nigeria. Let's own it. Let's shape it!<br />
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BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-51283572175906257242014-09-30T15:47:00.002+01:002014-09-30T16:02:03.696+01:00How did I let this happen?How? How did I let this happen. I didn't blog in 2013. At all?<br />
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Sigh. Okay today is the day of repentance!<br />
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But you know the scene has changed so much since a lot of us started blogging back in 2007. Bloggin has so many more competitors or should I say different outlets now that people can microblog on sites like twitter and instagram.<br />
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But nonetheless, we shall blog on because there's always time for a good story. Especially one about the extremes of living in Nigeria. I have been in and out of Lagos over the past few months and in true naija style, I've had some pretty interesting encounters.<br />
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So if you're still out there, so am I! Would love to read about what you all are up to!<br />
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<br />BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-56243269821949967762012-09-03T22:42:00.002+01:002014-09-30T15:35:45.860+01:00Moving Back to Nigeria for your NYSC?Guess what I just stumbled upon? A published book for Nigerian graduates overseas who are thinking about returning to register for the NYSC. It's a survival guide called, "The Foreign Otondo," by Kemi Ogunniyi. <br />
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When I was planning my move back to Nigeria in '07, there was absolutely no information in print or online (even the NYSC's website was non functional). So my dearest sweetest mother, bless her heart, had to go down to the NYSC headquarters to get the scoop on the requirements for signing up. <br />
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Still I didn't know what to expect at the orientation camp or during the course of the service year. After my ordeal at the orientation camp in October 2007, I wrote a blog post about the <a href="http://backtonaija.blogspot.com.au/2008/03/aje-butters-guide-to-surviving-nysc_17.html" target="_blank">Aje Butter's guide to surviving orientation camp</a> to fore warn incoming corpers about those first 3 weeks .<br />
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A number of things have definitely changed since I served. For instance, foreign graduates can no longer choose what state they want to serve in. Not good. The option to choose was definitely one of the factors that made my decision to move back easier! <br />
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Big kudos to the author for seeing a need and meeting it. I haven't read it, but the cover looks great! I would definitely have bought a copy if such a guide was available back then - because mmhh....the NYSC experience can be quite the shocker! <br />
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Visit <a href="http://www.otondoguide.com/" target="_blank">www.otondoguide.com </a>for details on how to get your copy. BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-52474238006096622672012-08-27T20:03:00.001+01:002012-08-27T20:03:47.062+01:00Sweet Baby BoyI haven't abandoned my blog O. Yes, I still live in Nigeria. I'm still married and...now have a baby. How is everyone out there? I know it's been a couple of months...or more like one dozen. <br />
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I don't think I can ever give up my blog. I love to write. I love to share. I like knowing I have a place where I can trade stories.<br />
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As I type, my sweet little boy is sitting on my lap. I'm feeding him mashed potatoes, which he will only eat at his pace. A spoonful too soon and he presses his lips together and turns his face away.<br />
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When I was single, I always thought I knew the kind of mother I would be. Hehehe...Well I've surprised myself. <br />
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I've turned out to be the kind of mother who eats her baby's food. Two spoons for you. One for me. So I never really know how much the boy eats. (Cerelac, mashed potatoes, pureed apples - baby food is surprisingly delicious) or if he's had enough to eat.<br />
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I'm the kind of mother who breastfeeds exclusively for six months because the pediatrician recommends it's best for baby, but then wishes she could continue even past six months because washing and warming baby bottles is a chore I definitely don't want to add to my schedule. Luckily I skipped the bottle step entirely because my son is now on to solid foods, plates and spoons. Yay!!!<br />
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As a single gal, I used to tsk tsk and shake my head when I see toddlers drinking fruit juice and sodas instead of water. Mmmm...I happen to be one of those mothers whose son has tasted coke, sprite, fanta, juice. But note, I say tasted not drank. When your baby is fussy, cranky and can't be pacified you try all sorts of distractions just for a few minutes of respite. Thankfully my son prefers water over sugar drinks. <br />
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And lest I forget, he eats paper. Just this morning, my mom told me that he grabbed a paper bag beside him. Before she could retrieve it from him, he bit off a
corner and swallowed the piece. I
do not understand his affinity for paper. But I've turned out to be one of those mothers who when all else fails, hand her son a piece paper, just for a moment of peace...(it calms him down 90% of the time) then when I've caught my breath, I go after the gooey pieces he refuses to spit out.<br />
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Ah the joys of motherhood! <br />
<br />BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-28646700874338607962011-08-01T21:36:00.008+01:002011-08-01T22:23:02.038+01:00Pick a partner, Choose a career, Raise a child...when you're still clueless?<span style="font-size:130%;">What does a 20-something year old know about picking a life partner?<br /><br />How much foresight does an 18-year-old have to choose a life career?<br /><br />What does a young 25-year-old mother know about raising a newborn?<br /><br />Where does the 21-year-old recent graduate gain knowledge about how to invest all his disposable income?<br /><br />By the time the importance of investment dawns on him, he's married with 2 children and his disposable income has become tied down by 16 years of paying school fees.<br /><br />By the time you gain decades of life experience and wisdom to raise your children, you turn around to find out that your babies are adults -- telling you what their own take on life is.<br /><br />By the time you're older and wise enough to want more than pretty lips and smooth words in a spouse, the dating pool has shrunk so much you fear that love might have passed you by in the haze of self-centered youthful exuberance.<br /><br />And just when you pass your exams and receive admission into the Ivy leagues of medical schools, you stumble on your hidden talent and passion for fashion.<br /><br />Ha ha ha. The joke is on us.<br /><br />Have you noticed how we have to make the most crucial decisions of our lives during the most inexperienced years of our existence?<br /><br />To think that I have to sow the seeds that I will reap during the rest of my life during the years when I have the least amount of experience and wisdom to do so!<br /><br />By the time I'm 40, 50, the fruit of those seeds slowly begin to ripen. The previous 2 decades of work (or sloth) begin to show their results. Joy - if that fruit is sweet and juicy. If it's not? Pain and regret!<br /><br />So I have come to the scary conclusion that I am clueless. I would be a fool to dive into this life pretending like I know what I'm doing. Pretending like I have the know-how, wisdom and knowledge to make generation shaping decisions. Decisions that are seemingly inconsequentially mine to make, yet they ripple down my bloodline long after my 80 - 90 years on earth.<br /><br />God has a fantastic sense of humour (and infinite wisdom). Woe unto me if I dive into the beautiful adventure of life without basking in his ways, his word and his wisdom.</span>BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-8741439858025395252011-06-09T00:21:00.006+01:002011-06-09T01:49:16.769+01:00When last did you steal second base?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I think I've shared this quote before: </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"You can't steal second base and keep your foot on first base" - Frederick B. Wilcox</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">At several points in my life, this has been my reality. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In my childhood I was soo timid that someone always had to push me off 1st base. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Take for example, Primary 4 - when my class teacher made me Class Prefect much to my horror. Never in a million years would I have raised my hand to respond to the call for interested Prefects. And for good reason. Even as a 9 year old I was quite self aware and knew that I just wasn't cut out for making enemies. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Me? Prefect? So that they'll be waiting for me in the bushes during break time because I'd written their names on the noise makers list? No thank you. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After 2 weeks, and only 2 names showed up on my noisemakers list, my class teacher impeached me without a fuss and found herself a more fearless leader. I was crushed but definitely more relieved to be relieved of my position. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Another first to second base incidence occurred several years later in secondary school. Once again, a teacher nominated me to become a Prefect -- again to my horror. This time, I couldn't worm my way out. She preached to me about how her mind was made up and how she felt I was up to the task. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And much to my surprise, I had a fantastic year in that role and learned a bit about my abilities, skills and talents.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">About 4 years ago, I stood on first base again in a whole different ball game. I was a year out of college. But I was afraid to move because I didn't want to strike out on my way to second base. But time was running out. My student status was about to expire and I had to make a decision. And with the clock ticking loudly in my ear, I was once again pushed to make a run for it. So I did. I ran for second base without looking back. </span></div><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Clinging to security is our natural instinct. Holding on to the bird in our hand while we look for two more in the bushes conventional wisdom. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But sooner or later, always sticking to conventional wisdom will lead to a conventional, boring life. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A life where "what-ifs" are neatly tucked away in the "later" folder. A life where if one doesn't seize the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">opportunities </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">presented by transition, threats or tribulation, the "later" folder eventually becomes the "it's too late" folder. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And it's not just for the big things. It's also for the seemingly little things: Trying a new hairdresser, taking a different traffic route, saying 'hi' to an uninteresting stranger. Leaving first base to cleave to second.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I've noticed that some of my best gifts in life have come when I let go and just - hang mid air. Many times I've been pushed over the cliff by someone else. At other times, I don't see, yet discomfort or dissatisfaction cause me to leap because I know there just has to be a better place.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And most times, there has truly been a better place.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places, surely I have a delightful inheritance" - Psalm 16</span></div><div><br /></div></div>BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-44882144548854696282011-06-01T23:48:00.010+01:002011-06-02T00:32:42.397+01:00Still in Nigeria - Why?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lagos cracks me up. Seriously. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For 1 hour this evening I was stuck on Ikorodu road at Ojota. At some point, a kpangolo car behind me squashed my bumper, and the driver kept a straight face and pretended like nothing happened. ("Huh? Squash your car? It wasn't me!" Obviously the latest trick in town - pschew!)</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We eventually inch along and next thing you know, a grown, healthy, fully formed area boggar (area boy/beggar) pounces on another </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">go-slow</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> resident and starts aggressively praying for the driver - staring him down with crazy gestures and emphatic facial expressions! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If you want to beg, biko beg, if you want to extort and threaten money out of people, then do that. Which one is this combo approach?<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was so thankful all my windows were up!<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Oh and right in front of my car was an okada passenger cradling a live ram in his lap! The poor animal didn't even bother to lift its head or move a limb (on second thought, was that ram alive? It had better be!)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And the shocking thing about all this? No one bats an eyelid. Lagosians take it all in their stride, with stern forward facing faces. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The driver who the area bogger accosted didn't even glance in the guy's direction. Not once. It was his kind-hearted sister in the back who reached through the rear window to give the bogger a N100 note. Mr. bogger took the money (courteously and gratefully ofcourse), hurled a few more blessings at the car occupants and moved down the traffic lane to harass the next SUV with a window wound down. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I guess it's just another day in Las gidi ey? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Yeah. Whatever you say. Can someone tell me why I am still in this country?</span></div></div></div></div>BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-81091161166377376912010-12-27T01:00:00.004+01:002010-12-27T01:43:33.547+01:00Becoming a Mrs.Can't believe it has been this long since I blogged. Hello is anyone out there? Not sure if anyone is still listening, but I won't stop writing...How are y'all doing? <div><br /></div><div>Lots of great stuff have happened since I moved back to Nigeria. Most recently and significantly I got hitched to my knight in shinning armor! Wohoo!</div><div><br /></div><div>It' s been a period of learning, loving and laughing. How does it feel to be married? It feels...natural. Like this is how I've always lived, even though we dated for just over a year. Perhaps it's because we've been best friends for several years?</div><div><br /></div><div>I love waking up beside him everyday. No more agonizing good byes at the end of a fun-filled weekend and no more marathon phone calls. Since the wedding day, we've been asking ourselves "So we're really married?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I was reading the book <i>Saving your marriage before it starts</i> months before we got married and one statement really stuck out to me: that marriage is a lifestyle - aka a way of living. You remain who you are - you've just chosen a different way of living out your life day-to-day. Where most of us get it wrong is when we expect the marriage to be the almighty solution that will save us or deliver us from all of life's woes. </div><div><br /></div><div>The authors (Dr. Les and Leslie Parrott) say that the love, bliss and healing that we all look forward to enjoying in marriage comes. But it's a by product of a healthy marriage where two partners invest in each other. Not one where the partners are looking to just receive and receive. I certainly found the authors' advice practical before our wedding and now that I'm living in the lifestyle of marriage I certainly understand.</div><div><br /></div><div>I bless God the Father and thank Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit for leading me into all truth and for the gift of my husband. He is truly a gem. A man of honour. The Lord who knows you and who knows who you will become in the years ahead will only give you the best for a life partner. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our path to the altar was a real journey which I'd love to share once our year-long honeymoon is over...ha ha ha. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for stopping by! Now back to the business of leaving, cleaving and loving...(wink wink)!</div><div> </div>BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-75267414198675471232010-08-19T19:11:00.000+01:002010-08-19T19:16:48.636+01:00Marriage Talks 3: MindsetMy attitude towards marriage has slowly evolved through the years. As a bullied teenager, I often dreamed of my future husband and imagined the conversations we would have and the way he would make me feel. Marriage was still at least 10 years away, but I was sure that it would wipe away the pain and loneliness that haunted me back then.<br /><br />In my late teens to early twenties, those daydreams fell to the background as I threw myself into the depths of books, American college life and…online shopping (well, more like browsing – I was a college student !). I wasn’t looking for Mr. Right; even though I wouldn’t have minded being found by him. But I was conveniently preoccupied with exploring and spreading my newly-acquired adult wings.<br /><br />Friends and classmates got engaged and I didn’t feel any stirrings. Once, my best friend called from Lagos to encourage me to take a closer look at the men around me. “ Isn’t there anyone you are interested in?” he asked? <br /><br />He had never heard any boyfriend tales from me and had specifically called to discuss my love life.<br /> <br />In return I told him that I wanted to focus on the season of life that I was in and assured him that God would send the right man at the right time But the concern in his voice stayed with me. “Did he have a point?” I later wondered. <br /><br />Truth was, I liked my single life the way it was. No drama, no pain, no heartbreak. I was the feature attraction and I knew how to handle me. After all I had been living with myself for 21 years. Ten years before, I couldn’t wait to be married, and now that it was finally within reach, love, relationships and marriage had become an abstract concept.BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-69551510781081825352010-05-02T22:52:00.005+01:002010-05-02T23:22:53.011+01:00Something is Lurking in the Dark<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I was leaving my house at 6:20 a.m and for some reason, I decided to take the back door. <i>Why</i>? I kept asking myself, what if something happens? <i>What will happen?</i> I shot back at my fear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As I get to the bottom of the back stairwell, I see a <b>black shadow</b> moving and realize there is a creature standing by the gate near the last step. I summon up courage and forge ahead vaguely thinking it's a cat. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I loop around to get to the last step when I suddenly see, running at top speed, and across my path a HUGE rat! It darts beneath the step I'm standing on. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I don' think. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I immediately long jump from the last step to the ground and begin to run blindly - <b>screaming</b> of course - all the way to the street.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I burst out laughing when I am safe on the street, but fear returns when I realize my phone is missing. Eh? I would rather leave the phone behind than go back and meet cat-rat. I have never seen a rat that big in my life. Isn’t that what they call bush meat?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I eventually talk myself into retrieving the phone from where it was waiting to be rescued (on the last step) and report the rat to all my colleagues in the office. </p><p class="MsoNormal">My boss laughed and asked if I would pass the back door in the pre-dawn morning again. Yes ke! How can a rat terrorize me <b>in my own territory?</b> (I haven’t passed the back stairwell that early in the morning since than sha), but I’ve seen the rat from the corner of my eyes twice when I’m passing the front.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>My sweetie finds it all hilarious.</b> He says the rat leaves for its workplace, Ratcom, when I leave for mine, that’s why we’re always jamming on the way, and he said it even has a name - Ojorat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Can you imagine?</p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-29432194679085382812010-04-27T23:26:00.003+01:002010-04-27T23:48:50.743+01:00Eating Well in NigeriaWhy do I have to wait until I’m approaching 40 or when I’m pregnant with my first child to start paying attention to what I put into my mouth? We are truly what we eat. The first time I personally witnessed this was in 2003.<br /><br />I had just moved to America and was a freshman in college. I was feeling a bit off so I decided to take advantage of the medical insurance and run blood tests to make sure I was okay.<br /><br />Days later, the nurse was reading through my blood tests results and I noticed a particular column indicated red because it was about 200% more than the average level! I panicked and asked about it. She said it was good cholesterol - “you must eat a lot of fish right?” Mmmh, not anymore I told her and went on to explain how when I lived in Nigeria, I ate fish almost every night, and I’m not kidding - 5 out of 7 nights for about 1 year!<br /><br />At first my sisters and I loved ithe round smoked fish in stew with rice, eba, beans. One whole fish to ourselves, yum! But after a while, we began to beef the fish: fish fish fish all the time. Ahn Ahn!<br /><br />So you can imagine the irony when I found out that that very fish had kept me healthy and was <b>still present in my blood</b> even 3 months after I had stopped eating it!<br /><br />We are truly what we eat.<br /><br />So I’m trying to put quality items into my body now. To teach my body to crave the good stuff. It’s not been easy though because while America over processes its foods, over here we love to overcook and fry ours.<br /><br />Some weeks ago, friends and colleagues kept telling me I was glowing and wondering what I was doing?! I had no idea what! It wasn’t until I had ended my fast did I realize that it probably had something to do with the lack of food! I had read somewhere that human beings over eat in general and that these days we put more toxins than nutrients into our bodies. But shouldn’t I be looking gaunt and miserable if I was skipping meals? I am still trying to figure that one out. <b>I must glow again oh! </b><br /><br />In the past few days, I have instituted 3 healthy to do’s on my list. Here’s a synopsis of how I’ve been faring:<br /><br /><b>#1: Say no to Coke</b> - I haven’t bought a coke for the last 2 weeks, instead I’ve been drinking other beverages (Lucozade, Swepps heh heh I know it’s cheating) but my colleague gave me an ice chilled canned Coke today. I let it sit on my desk for an hour then… drank half a can before I chided myself and dumped the rest in my abandoned cup of water.<div><br /><b>#2: Eat 1 piece of fruit a da</b>y – I had two apples for dinner yesterday because I was bored with the alternative: eba and vegetable. But for some reason, my stomach ran all night! Was my body having a reaction to the sudden infusion of healthiness?!</div><div><br /><b>#3: Cut down on fried food</b>s – I just finished eating boiled plantain and stew for dinner. I don’t fancy plantain in general, but I found the boiled taste a refreshing change.</div><div><br /><b>#4: Take top quality supplement</b>s – Not the kind that adds more chemicals to your body. When I was fasting, I accompanied my evenings meals with a glass of water and vitamin C – perhaps that’s the secret behind the glow? Because our foods are so altered and overcooked, it often lacks the nutrients that our bodies need. If you’re an inconsistent eater like me (think feasting during the weekends and snacking during the week) supplements can make all the difference.<br /><br />Am not doing too badly don’t you think? Oh and my cold is gone and the subsequent cough is finally breaking. Thanks for all your concern!</div>BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-55587273270036698732010-04-23T23:33:00.000+01:002010-04-23T23:33:00.209+01:00Nigerian Wedding Planning<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">My people, besides eloping, what do you think is the best way to pull of a small wedding reception in a culture that calls for large, loud and lavish weddings ?</p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-42556757817085618292010-04-19T20:20:00.002+01:002010-04-20T02:52:15.681+01:00Dirty hands, Dirty girls and Dirty boys!<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">When I lived in Israel, for some reason I always caught colds in the summer. Regularly. Does the flu spread faster in hot weather…?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’d be miserable because Israeli summers and freezing air conditioners go hand-in-hand. Every mall, bus, office, classroom greets you with a blast of ice-cold air. For a chick with a sniffling nuisance of a cold – it meant blocked noses, nasal voice and congested sinuses whenever I stepped into a public building. And the tissue! My trademark was wads and wads of used tissue everywhere. Shout out to my mum for being so tolerant when I left them on her dining table! My misery blocked out all sense of propriety. Ahh, those were the days. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I still dislike having a cold in hot weather. Fortunately for me,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>it hasn’t happened much since <u>I <a href="http://backtonaija.blogspot.com/2007/06/game-plan.html">moved back to naija</a></u>. I wash my hands and keep them away from my face. Works for me. (It’s either that or my immunity is looking up).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>I</b> <b>can’t count how many times I’ve seen ladies jump out of the loo without washing their hands</b><span style="font-weight:normal">. (Don’t even get me started on this topic!)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Unfortunately, those of us who do wash our hands still have to use the same door handles and we have to shake their hands and share the germs…. Kai. Ladies, ladies, ladies! How many times did I call you? Wash your hands whenever you are using a shared loo! Ahn ahn.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">By the way, MEN, just because you <i>can</i><span style="font-style:normal">, does not mean you </span><i>should</i><span style="font-style:normal"> stop and pee out in the open! Nobody wants to see it. Put it away! Lagos walls and gutters have seen wonders!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Apparently…having a cold on a hot Monday in a smoggy city sets loose a cranky blogger. Abeg, let me go and I blow my nose…</p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-91932233169883280372010-03-22T18:05:00.006+01:002010-03-22T18:16:13.131+01:00Marriage Talks 2But things are getting more practical and <em><strong>more personal </strong></em>these days mmmhh.... My interest in marriage is at an all time high, and it has extended beyond fairytale considerations. I’m intrigued by certain questions about marriage. <strong>Is “love is all we need?”</strong> or is it more like <strong>“ love is not enough.” </strong>What makes 60 marriages years ago longer lasting than marriages of 20 years ago? Or perhaps they weren’t stronger and it just appears that way?<br /><br />Is physical attraction the main differentiating factor between marriage and friendship? If so, what happens if you lose that attraction once you get into marriage? Do high expectations aid or hinder the success of marriage?<br /><br /><em>P.S: This once a month posting that I'm doing is not it at all oh!!!!!!!!</em><br /><em>P.SS: Check this wedding website out - <a href="http://www.namywedding.com/">Na my wedding</a> - Fun and useful info for those planning a wedding in Nigeria...mmmhh!</em><br /><em></em><br /><em></em>BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-2708296715616115072010-02-25T13:55:00.002+01:002015-04-24T06:33:00.995+01:00Marriage Talks<br />
<div>
I’ve been thinking about marriage these days, and I’ve observed that my attitude towards it has slowly evolved through the years. As a bullied teenager, I often dreamed of my future husband and imagined the conversations we would have and the way he would make me feel. Marriage was still at least 10 years away, but I was sure that it would wipe away the pain and loneliness that haunted me back then.<br />
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In my late teens to early twenties, those daydreams fell to the background as I threw myself into the depths of books, American college life and…online shopping (well, more like browsing – I was a college student !). I wasn’t looking for Mr. Right; even though I wouldn’t have minded being found by him. But I was conveniently preoccupied with exploring and spreading my newly-acquired adult wings.<br />
<br />
Friends and classmates got engaged and I didn’t feel any stirrings. Once, my best friend called from Lagos to encourage me to take a closer look at the men around me. “ Isn’t there anyone you are interested in?” he asked?<br />
<br />
He had never heard any boyfriend tales from me and had specifically called to discuss my love life.<br />
<br />
In return I told him that I wanted to focus on the season of life that I was in and assured him that God would send the right man at the right time But the concern in his voice stayed with me. “Did he have a point?” I later wondered.<br />
<br />
Truth was, <strong>I liked my single life the way it was</strong>. No drama, no pain, no heartbreak. I was the feature attraction and I knew how to handle me. After all I had been living with myself for 21 years. Ten years before, I couldn’t wait to be married, and now that it was finally within reach, love, relationships and marriage had become an abstract concept.<br />
<br />
To be continued…</div>
BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-26782346929004809122010-01-29T07:00:00.001+01:002010-01-29T07:00:00.420+01:00Beyond the Paycheck<p class="MsoNormal">Gasp! I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> just received a pay cut. Yes due to some interesting mathematics my take home pay has decreased by a nice <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">comfty</span> chunk. But it’s all good though, the difference will be paid in bulk sum later. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s even better because God is my provider. I don’t have to fret. He’s my chief employer. He owns my talents. The way I see it, if he’s going to direct cockroaches and rats to shelter and food so that they don’t die of starvation then I don’t think I’m going to be starving anytime soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But this calls for serious <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rebudgeting</span> oh…I will have to slow down on impromptu N3,000 Chinese lunch takeaways (oh how I miss my $5 Chinese lunch deals) and my daily box of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Lucozade</span> Boost!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You know what? Forget about nixing the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Lucozade</span>. That’s my N100 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">naira</span> guilty pleasure. My simple reward at the end of my 8-5. When I really want to splurge, I also throw in a packet of shortbread. (Yummy!) The wise thing to do is buy a cartoon of Boost at wholesale value and stash it away from the reach of four legged/winged (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ewww</span>!) tenants. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But seriously, just sitting down and thinking about money won’t make money appear. Those ideas have to jump onto paper and then into a bunch of heads and a team of hands. Move those legs, share those thoughts and burn that night oil. Everyday is another opportunity to increase the value of my net worth.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was reading about twitter on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">wikipedia</span> today and there was a picture of the founder’s earliest thoughts on twitter as scribbled on a lined notepad some 3-4 years ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ideas. That’s where wealth begins. Words and ideas become flesh. Just look: everything you see today - the appliances, technology, clothes, food, cars, they all began in one human being’s head. A human being like you and me who is now sitting on major patent/intellectual property royalties because of an idea that caught like wild fire.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">God what about me? Me too, I want to contribute. There must be a winning idea somewhere in those funky movie-like dreams that I dream at night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Just think: if you could just create and sell N50 brushes to 1 million Lagos residents, you would be a millionaire!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The question is how can I provide a service or meet a need for thousands of people?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">* * *</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-64149800435006220402010-01-26T21:29:00.005+01:002010-01-26T22:58:57.865+01:00The Rat Disappeared!<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s been a few days since I laid eyes on the mini rat! No one else has seen it and it hasn’t left any marks behind, thus my fellow housemates are a bit skeptical that I saw one in the first place!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As for me, I’m writing this with both eyes, but at the same time my peripheral vision is very sensitive to any side movements. I remember that it was about this same time in the same mode– quiet, darkened house at dusk - that I first spotted rattie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m not afraid anymore, just determined. In fact, I’m comfortably eating my left over jellof rice and moin moin on the same bed I jumped on when I first spotted rattie more than a week ago. I’m sure I did not imagine it. I’m sure.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">During the week, I thought I heard the rat eating grains from the bag of raw rice that was stashed near my headboard. It was 4:40 a.m. and I froze. I didn’t have to get up until 5:30 a.m. I didn’t want to be scared and I wanted more sleep so I turned my ear lobes into my ears to drown out all sounds including the crackle crackle crackle of snapping rice grains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All to no avail. Dawn would not dawn fast enough.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My rice eating theory was however debunked during daylight when my aunt went to get some rice from the bag and didn’t see any evidence of sabotage.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">MmmHhh? Okay o!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Well y'all talk theories, I’ve banished the 60kg bag of rice to another room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Let the rat go and have its full there while there is still time. The exterminator is coming for it this weekend.</p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-87680114260828610322010-01-24T18:46:00.008+01:002015-04-24T06:52:38.495+01:00No longer entry-level<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EDObGrHyc5s/S1yN1pbyQQI/AAAAAAAAAWA/5oEX1H2ia68/s1600/more%2Bibadan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EDObGrHyc5s/S1yN1pbyQQI/AAAAAAAAAWA/5oEX1H2ia68/s1600/more%2Bibadan.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div>
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is the view from the top of Mokola Hill, Ibadan as taken from the nostalgic Premier Hotel.</span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This May, it’ll be four years since I graduated from college. Oh my goodness. It means I’ve left the realm of entry-level. Yikes! And here I am still screaming and jumping and running away from a mini rat that walked into my room. I screamed so hard, I dropped my cell phone while talking to my mother. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I remembered she was still on the line and grabbed the phone to put her mind at rest. She was quite sympathetic considering that my mother grew up with all boys on a farmland – things like cockroaches and rats don’t intimidate her. In yesterdays, my scream fest would have warranted a hiss from my mom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My voice is still a bit tender from the scream. Even the little rat was confused. It twirled 280 degrees before finally deciding to head out of my room. You better!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course I had to report the yeye rat to my sweetie. In fact, I would have ordered my knight in shining armor over to my place (yes ke, I was a damsel in distress!) were he not smack in the middle of a meeting when I called. Nonetheless, he has this way of convincing me that the rat and (or any other object of terror) I will not cross paths anymore. And I believed him. At least enough to dash to the kitchen to switch off my burning pot of rice. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I’m tiptoeing around <b>my own</b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> house. What utter rubbish. In my late 20s! The injustice of oppression! I must overcome this fear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First thing tomorrow morning, I’m calling the fumigator. I’ve already placed cloth under my door - yes the rat is small enough to crawl under.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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But in the meantime, I’m going to sleep my fears away…</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-41027339625787735542010-01-06T10:54:00.006+01:002010-01-06T17:35:26.858+01:00Your money or your time?<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Happy New Year y'all!</p><p class="MsoNormal">2010 is here.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Like play like play - my 20s are passing by oh! </p><p class="MsoNormal">Oooh, which reminds me, I went into a car rental (I'm vacationing in the States) and enthusiastically announced that I'd like a car. The attendant obviously forgetting all the training that was laboriously bestowed on him gives me a side glance and blurts out: "Are you 21?" </p><p class="MsoNormal">What? My sweetheart and my dad both chuckle beside me and I gleefully retort to the attendant that I am in fact several years older. Yes ke! </p><p class="MsoNormal">Now there was a time when I'd be genuinely upset at that slip up, but not this time - does that mean that I am becoming age conscious?! Well even if so, I still don't feel my age at all sha.</p><p class="MsoNormal">On the subject of time, let's continue the very important and juicy gist of my previous post:</p><p class="MsoNormal">My sweetheart says that his greatest gifts in life are time and love. Ofcourse I understand the love part but thought it odd that he would lump ‘time’ in the category of greatest gifts.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But it makes sense because <i>My time is my life</i><span style="font-style:normal">. A minute is not just another minute, it’s a fraction of my life passing by. Never to be recalled. Time is a resource but it’s also a gift, because we only have a certain amount of it. We can’t create it. The only people who no longer have time are those who are no longer alive!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So can I say that in cherishing my time, I’m cherishing my life? And when I waste time not doing anything or doing something that isn’t adding value, can I say I’m wasting my life away? Or is this too drastic a statement?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If given a choice, what would you rather part with: your money or your time?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And if so, what would it depend on?</p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-38061847383561345092009-11-05T08:00:00.001+01:002009-11-05T08:00:02.248+01:00Are You Working for Money?<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">In my previous post, I started talking about how my money is working for me. To put things in perspective for you and help you understand how far the good Lord has brought me, I’ve been called <i>ijebu </i>by my own family members because I like to keep my own money and spend everyone else’s.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But what’s the harm in that as long as I share some of mine with you when you’ve exhausted your own? Lol. But seriously, I am not one of those people who love the power that comes with buying whatever they want. Instead I feel like I’ve been overpowered or outsmarted when I spend. As if the seller has succeeded in separating me from my money. But because I like good things (who doesn’t?), I will help you spend yours if you like spending!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I don’t like finding myself without money (abeg who does?) so I’m slightly uneasy and grumpy when I’m broke. I like to have a savings, cut my coat according to my size and take zero risks.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But my motives for being prudent could keep me in a stagnant cycle. Why? Because I can fall into the trap of always working for money and not having my money work for me.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I’ve come to understand that having your money work for you is the path to independence and this will mean different things for different people but I think this means spending my money on things that would:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"><span style="mso-font-width:0%">-<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span>bring in more money long term<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"><span style="mso-font-width:0%">-<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span>save me money in the long run<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"><span style="mso-font-width:0%">-<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span>improve the quality of my life or someone else’s life <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But how does this play out practically? Are there any hard and fast rules? For instance, if you received a $20,000 bonus from your employer, would you use it as a down payment on a house, go back to school for your masters or buy a car?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is assuming that you need all three of these things and don’t own any?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What impact would your life circumstances have on making such a decision? For example, if you were…single, married, a mother, a father, due for retirement, an aspiring entrepreneur etc?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-90884601761014019832009-11-03T08:00:00.003+01:002009-11-03T08:00:03.586+01:00My inverter and My money<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">My inverter is a huge blessing! I am so so so happy that I invested in it. I was initially intimidated by the price of one battery -N60,000 - And I needed to buy two! So like a wise businesswoman I coaxed daddy dearest into footing the bill for one. After all I won’t carry the thing with me when I’m moving into my own house. Heh heh.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But my people, this inverter is more than worth its value! PHCN gives us an average of six or seven hours of electricity during the day. Yes, when most folks are hard at work in the office they fulfill righteousness and bring light and take it just as you’re stepping into your house in the evening! But with the inverter I can ‘save’ all that electricity for use when I get back home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I could buy a generator at a cheaper price and have it carry hefty appliances like my A/C and iron, but my inverter still beats a generator hands down because: I don’t have to start combing my neighborhood looking for a kind gentleman to pull my generator. I don’t have to sit in the stuffy heat because I’ve shut the windows against the screaming generator noise. I don’t have to keep reminding myself to put the keg in the car so I can buy fuel for the gen. I don’t have to spend thousands on fuel and I don’t have to store fuel in my house!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Plus whenever they bring light, the inverter automatically switches over and begins to charge up again. I don’t have to interrupt my precious sleep to switch over to PHCN.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now that’s what I call having my money work for me. More on money in my next post ;)</p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-33793107084555173762009-11-01T20:46:00.003+01:002009-11-01T20:57:08.367+01:00NYSC Orientation Camp - November 2009<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:63.0pt">This month, two years ago, I was rounding up my three weeks at NYSC orientation camp. Oh, the good times (I'm not being sarcastic...well maybe a bit;)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:63.0pt">But if you never went to a Nigerian government boarding house or more broadly have never been to an NYSC orientation camp, please prepare your mind as you go to camp on Tuesday - here is the <a href="http://backtonaija.blogspot.com/2008/03/aje-butters-guide-to-surviving-nysc_17.html">Aje-butters guide for surviving NYSC camp. </a></p> <!--EndFragment-->BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-3297920163662497392009-10-25T17:52:00.007+01:002009-10-25T21:00:12.662+01:00Sweet sweet LoveMmmhhhaahhhh! That's the sound of the big sigh that I'm letting out. I've been away too long! Where do I start from? Life is interesting, exciting, scary - The mere fact that I do not know what will happen in the next year. Oh yes, I might think I know. But who am I? I can just see God chuckling at me. Yes, I concede, who am I? I don't know nada about tomorrow!<br /><br />Yet I choose to Love. Because love is all I need. When the Bible says that love is the greatest thing of all, it's not playing. Yes it's talking about the mushy, talk all night on the phone, can't live without you, I must-marry-you now kind of love. But it's also talking about the you really hurt me, your family is mean to me, I can't stand you right now <em>but</em> I still love you kind of love. Why? Because "<strong>Love covers a multitude of sins.</strong>"<br /><br />So how can you say you love but then resent a woman just because she's looking fyne! You give your cousin, your ___the silent treatment, and get jealous and angry when good things happen to your friend. Yes, I know that feeling all to well. The pain and fear of unfulfilled dreams. We've all been there and done that. I find myself there one too many times. Why? Because it's my default, factory, human setting. But you know what? I choose not to live that way. I don't have to love only when I'm feeling loved. Nah,this life is too precious for that. I'd be missing out on the enjoying the depths of the greatest gift of all if I do not free myself to love.<br /><br />Love is too sweet to limit to one small area of your life. I want it to seep into every conversation, every transaction. I want it to sweeten my entire life. I want to feel its warmth. I want it to bring tears to my eyes. I want more of it. Lots more of it. And you know the best part? I don't have to wait to get it. Because true love...<strong><em>gives</em></strong>. That takes me out of the victim's box and puts me in the driver's seat.<br /><br />Yesiree! I'm free to love. I am free to give. I am free to live.BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528568793150169369.post-47417354138375358982009-08-19T17:10:00.009+01:002015-04-24T06:49:54.025+01:00Why I am still in NigeriaAfter my experience at <a href="http://backtonaija.blogspot.com/2007/07/1st-week-in-abuja.html">passport control</a>, we drove away from the airport and I was elated. Everything seemed alive! Maybe it’s the dusty roadsides, red soil, lizards or just the people, but everything about Nigeria is engaging. It is only in this country that your okada driver will fight you for not giving him exact change! My people, please hear: I was on my way to the bus stop last week and he asked if I had change, I said yes, afterall N50 is change to me. Apparently, he meant the exact N30 fare. My bad! But he didn’t say exact change, he said change. So, what would have happened if I had given him N200? Of course like a true Nigerian, I didn’t back down when he started flailing his arms and barking at me, saying he didn’t have any change to give me.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n_6SJ0BBQA8/VTnZGaudo6I/AAAAAAAAAi0/Edr5jLkDzCg/s1600/Third%2Bmainland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n_6SJ0BBQA8/VTnZGaudo6I/AAAAAAAAAi0/Edr5jLkDzCg/s1600/Third%2Bmainland.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
An idle onlooker/bus stop agbero saw that neither one of us were budging and interceded by giving me my N20 change. I took it with a scowl on my face but relief in my heart. Honestly, I’m not cut out for confrontation. It took me the rest of the morning to shake the guy’s bleached face and oversized helmet face from my psyche.<br />
Now tell me where else can I find that kind of interaction with a complete stranger? --- Well there was that time during my recent trip; I was in Primark on Oxford street when from my spot on the check out queue, I heard a young lady in the ladies shoe section swearing, shouting, screaming at the top of her lungs to a fellow shopper who had allegedly ( and of course mistakenly) stepped on her.<br />
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Some people are just crazy I tell ya!</div>
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(The picture was taken from Ebute Metta shoulder of Third Mainland bridge. If you look, far at the right end you'll see the rest of the bridge curving to Oworonshoki)</div>
BacktoNaijahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07214572735020254575noreply@blogger.com9