HEY! I GREW UP TALL & TIMID

If you're the type who waits for people's validation or applause before you celebrate yourself;

you constantly look over your shoulder at the crowd to see if they are nodding in approval or giving supportive glances and nudges here and there;

you solicit support indirectly before you can take a bold step to believe in yourself;

you want to hear people tell and reassure you that you're beautiful or handsome...

I'm afraid you may not go very far in life. You need to STOP!

This is life: Even when you have something excellent and worth celebrating people could make you feel really bad and ashamed of it.

I was a very tall and lanky kid; from my nursery school days up till secondary school. I was taller than most kids around me. My peers emphatically. I felt awkward whenever we lined up at the assembly ground. I constantly tried changing and switching positions as the line got longer so I end up at the back. Because I was too tall so I felt the front row was not meant for me. A taboo, if you may.

I felt bad for being too tall. People around me both old and young made me feel very bad except my parents. They teased and laughed and chided me for growing too fast and 'long'.

'Taller', they called.
'Why are you so tall'? They queried.
'You're too tall'. They complained.

I didn't realise I had a very good thing. Something to be proud of. Something to be appreciated. I hated myself. I was so mad at God.

I remember those nights when I'd be complaining to my childhood best friend Caroline during one of our numerous night calls, that when I grew up and made enough money, I'd go for a surgery. A surgery to reduce the length of my legs. I needed her to reassure me that that was possible. But she kept telling me I was perfect the way I was and she loved me.

I remember once when mum bought a pair of silver coloured heels for me to use for a wedding train; I took them to the cobbler to help cut off part of the heels. Mum had no idea. Even after almost damaging the shoe in the name of cutting it, I still couldn't summon courage to wear it. I later gave it out.

I was never born timid. As a very little child I was almost hyperactive. But as I grew into my height and teenage days I began to withdraw into my shell as the world seemed quite harsh for little girls who grew too tall for their age. I developed self esteem issues. I became very timid. Always hiding in the back and looking for a crowd to get lost in.

It began to affect my posture. In public places most especially in church, I'd bend and slant my legs backwards to avoid looking so conspicuous. Mean people still spotted me.

I can go on and on.

As I grew I realised I had a priceless gift. Something heels can't give you without hurting your feet and toes. I began to appreciate my height. I developed very sarcastic and mean auto responses to anyone who tried to tease me that I was too tall. I was clapping back with pride. I really did feel proud.

I can never trade my position. Not for anything. And Man! Will I love to marry a tall, dark-Skinned guy so I can bear me some tall black and beautiful kids. I need to watch a mini me grow. I'll teach them to be proud of who they were created to be.

Hey! This is not to make anyone below my chin feel bad. It's just a reminder that you should celebrate yourself. Believe in yourself. You owe yourself that. The world may take too long to recognise your awesomeness. You'll have to show it to them. Make them stop and listen.

Never allow the value you place on yourself or ideas be determined by the applause you get from the world.  You just may fall off that yardstick.

Gloria Edem
@Pennitt

Photo credit: pin interest.

SHE HAS NO HANDS! YOU HAVE TWO!

TRUE STORY: REAL WINNERS DON’T GIVE UP!

This is a true story of a young woman who went through the most gruesome fire. When you read her story, you’ll realize that your trials are absolutely nothing compared to what this young girl went through.

It was September 25, 2000. Maricel Apatan was an 11-year old girl in Zamboanga. On that day, this little girl went with her uncle to draw water. Along the way, four men met them. They were carrying long knives. They told her uncle to face down on the ground, and they hacked him on the neck and killed him.

Maricel was in total shock especially that the men were their neighbours. She tried to escape, but the men ran after her. She cried, “Kuya, ‘wag po, ‘wag n’yo akong tagain! Maawa po kayo sa akin!” (“Don’t kill me! Have mercy on me!”) But they weren’t listening. With a long knife, a man slashed her on the neck too.

Maricel fell to the ground and lost consciousness.

When she woke up, she saw a lot of blood. She also saw the feet of the men around her, but she pretended to be dead. When they walked away, Maricel ran back home. But along the way, she saw that both her hands were falling off. Because the men hacked them too. She cried but she kept running. Sometimes, she would faint and fall to the ground. But she’d regain consciousness and run again.

When she was near her home, Maricel called her mother.

Upon seeing her daughter, her mother screamed in terror. She wrapped her bloodied child in a blanket and carried her to the hospital.

Here was the problem: From her house to the highway, it was a 12-kilometer walk. It took them 4 hours just to reach the highway. When they arrived in the hospital, the doctors thought Maricel was going to die. But for 5 hours, they operated on her. It took 25 stitches to stitch together the long knife wound in her neck and back. Maricel barely survived. And she lost both of her hands.

Ironically, the next day was Maricel’s birthday. She was 12 years old.

But tragedy didn’t end there. When they went home, they saw their home was gone. It was ransacked and burned down by the goons. Being very poor, Maricel’s family also didn’t have P50,000 for their hospital bills. But God sent many angels along the way to help them.

Archbishop Antonio Ledesma, a distant relative, paid for hospital bills and helped them bring the criminals to court. They were sentenced to prison.

Today, she’s staying with the nuns at Regina Rosarii with Sr. Eppie Brasil, O.P.

But this is the incredible miracle. Instead of staying down, Maricel kept running.

Instead of cursing God why she had no hands, she now uses her wrists in incredible ways that will boggle your mind.

Maricel was cited as the most industrious, best in computer, and most courteous in the School for Crippled Children. In 2008, she graduated from a course in Hotel and Restaurant Management. She even received a Gold medal for Arts and Crafts.

In 2011, she finished her education to be a chef. Yes, a Chef without hands.

Nothing can stop this young lady from reaching her dreams.

Real Winners Don’t Give Up! What have you accomplished with your two hands? This story is culled and shared to encourage someone.

@PENNITT 

DROP THAT BAGGAGE

Being in love and getting hurt puts one in a really vulnerable spot. Most of us have had our fair share. You cannot enjoy the bliss of a loving relationship if you move in with the dead weight/baggage of the previous relationship.

Forgive and forget they say.
Let it go they say.
Time heals all wounds they say. But they may never know how deep the wound from the injury was. They may never know how deep it got to you.

They may never know what you invested and how disappointed you were nor how heavy your heart is. How crushed you felt. How rejected you felt. How not good enough you felt. A combination of all these feelings and more made your heart stiff and cold. How could you ever open your heart again you think?

Despite this, the fear of being alone or giving up on love makes you jump into another relationship.  There you go! You have not healed so you carry along with you the previous hurt. How disastrous.

On the other hand, some might need to heal before stepping into another relationship while others can only heal with the tender loving care of another lover who must be seen to outdo the ex. Belonging to the first category makes the new relationship a burden, a cross to bear.

It is filled with upsetting sad moments once in a while spiced with happiness and fun. Why so? He or she might be doing all within his/her power to make you happy, to show they care, but you always end up comparing them with an ex.

You overlook the numerous acts of kindness and magnify the little flaws. Not really because you do not love or appreciate them, but because you need to transfer the aggression from the past hurt. You feel because your ex hurt you, every other person out there is equally skimming and trying to take advantage of you.

Going into a new relationship without taking the time to heal ourselves of the hurt in our heart make us to an extent impossible or difficult to love. The innocent partner may be doing all in his or her power to make you happy oblivious of the fact that there is a scale by which you are measuring his actions and inactions. Weighing it with that of an ex.  This makes you pick offense at very minor mishappenings. I cannot promise the outcome will be a great one.

We are not super humans. We are emotional beings with the possibilities of getting hurt in our quest for love and companionship.  When this happens, we pass through several healing processes. Some might take long while others heal faster. If there is someone out there trying to fill that gap in your life, trying to show you they care, give them that chance. Do not make it difficult for them. Do not hold on to the past as it will inhibit your happiness. Let bygone be bygone. Move on. There are better things ahead.

If you must give love another chance, let go of the baggage. I assure you there is so much bliss waiting for you. Give it a chance.

I hope you have a wonderful new week. Stay happy and cute.

@PENNITT BY GLORIA EDEM

MY FIRST FLIGHT: A FUNKY MEMORY

          As a young girl I had always looked forward to when I would board my first flight, when I would finally sit back with my belt strapped on and my eyes shut taking in the full glory of the moment. My youthful and adventurous mind cared nothing about the several stories that filtered through news channels both local and international about flight horrors being encountered occasionally nor the plane crashes here and there. Even the disappearance of the Malaysian Boeing 370 into the supposed Bermuda triangle or the Dana crash didn’t in the least from/way deter my zest to using air transport.

          I visited Lagos from Calabar on a one week holiday although I arrived there via road transportation. I expected my first time on air transport to be a well-planned one with probably my village people coming to see me off amidst the singing and dancing from several cultural troupes. The ekpe of Calabar was to grace the occasion with ‘abiokpo’ pulling some little stunts here and there. Yes it was supposed to be a big and colourful occasion.

          The reverse was the case on that faithful day early last year. I got a call from dad that morning saying my attention was needed as a matter of life and death in Uyo. It was of utmost importance to me and my career that I arrived Uyo that day on or before 3pm.

          I was torn in-between thoughts of how to get myself home as Pops had no idea I just arrived Lagos on one of my numerous shenanigans/adventures.  Bingo! I had no other option but fly if I must beat the time limit I was given. I got across a friend who helped me book my flight online while I prepared and packed my luggage. Off I went to the airport.

          On arrival at the airport, I showed my pin, followed through the procedures, got a flight ticket and joined the queue looking all excited with my Edet-goes-to-Calabar box strapped firmly to my right hand. I had no idea my little sized box was classified as “hand luggage”. Silly petty ignorance. I turned the poor thing in alongside the huge boxes of fellow travellers to be tagged and loaded in the cart by the baggage handler. As I finished with booking procedures, I noticed and greeted a lovely elderly and glam-looking couple and they responded warmly.

P.S. this is a survival tactics I’ve learnt over the years. When in a strange land, I look around and attach myself to the nicest and coolest looking folks so I don’t get announced on NTA Obot Akara branch.

          The couple were so nice and took/treated me like a daughter. We got talking and I realised they just flew in from a vacation in New York. I helped the man with a little luggage he carried as we made our way up the escalator. Uhmm! That was my first time using that and I almost fell on my butt when I stepped on it as my feet were not properly placed on the segmented stairs. My flight mum giggled in supressed laughter as I struggled to regain my balance. I wore a straight face as though nothing happened. Those who know me know that “look.”

          At the waiting lounge, the voice of the white lady dolling out flight announcements sounded like hagithfubttwrjdbjrehjhhcxdhjhdhdsheierewrhhghgt to me. Nkoppo anything!

          We still had hours to burn until our flight time so my couple friends took me up for breakfast (steaming hot pap and akara) and a little window shopping. As madam was slightly distracted, the devil struck in a sexy tuxedo. ‘Sirdam’ clandestinely asked that I input my cell phone numbers into his phone so he could reach out to me afterwards. I was in awe as my jaw dropped in astonishment. I declined with my face coloured out of embarrassment while strolling away.

          Our time to board had come and we joined the shuttle buses that drove us to the plane. I located my seat and realised I was seated in-between  an old Yoruba mummy who didn’t understand English and an American actor Joseph Mawle who starred as Richard in Chimamanda’s ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’, Game of Thrones, etc. My ego-check did not allow me to ‘fams’ him. Lol. He helped fasten my belt and yea I was grateful “because the way I fiddled with the thing ehn.”

          We were offered some cheap snacks and coffee with ‘happy hour’ juice of which I said no to. As we took off, I felt my heart sank, I was nauseous and almost grabbed unto my seat for support irrespective of the tightly fastened belt. I felt normal after a few minutes and relaxed into the wonderful experience. We arrived Uyo in about 45 minutes and I embarrassingly waited for my hand luggage to slide down. My flight mummy asked, ‘is that all?’ I blushed and said ‘yes’ laughing out loud as I realised my folly (some of you should understand this sarcasm).

Their driver who was already awaiting them collected us and I enjoyed another free ride to my destination. We bade farewell as I alighted the car gratefully appreciating them for their help.

@PENNITT BY GLORIA EDEM.

A POETIC NARRATIVE: AS I JOURNEY THROUGH THE YESTERYEARS

Some days run fast like a rabbit.
Some days crawl along like a tortoise.
Time they say is only a concept.
Where did time go?

Life gets complicated by the day.
Wars, tribulations, fighting, killings;
Bombings, infant mortality, inflation, heartbreaks, disappointments, failure;
Raised cost of living, thuggery, hunger, looting, name them.

Does it get better in time? Where did time go?
Take me back to the yesteryears.

The years I screamed in innocent lo piercing laughter,
The years I jumped and clapped in ecstatic delight,
The years we ran in circles, hands intertwined,
Buttocks bared, rear cheeks peeping in panty holes,
Shooting guns made of papaya branches,
Yesteryears of no worries, running along with jeeps made
only of abandoned car tires and bicycle wheels.
Excuse me Sage, where did time go?


He said; 'variety is the spice of life',
'Your honour, you mean a little happiness occasionally spiced with sadness?'
What's life when time flies?
How then do memories stay?
When sanity has run wild,
Pat me on the back in case I'm still asleep

A life where hopes and Dreams are drums of war,
Pains and loss is our duvet of peace
Take us back in time Let's tell a tale;
Of hope, love, care, smiles, laughter, plenty;
Of pleasant memories, helping hands, support,
and again hope, all we need to sail through this wilderness.

Yesteryears of numb and sanity
Time where young blood cared less of looks but future
A tale told in manifold patches
As our children then knew nothing but greetings,
The world is far beyond repairs,
Kudos and cheers to civilization.

Better days are all I dream of as I lay back,
relapsed on my rocking chair, swinging to and fro,
withdrawing into the inner casement of my mind
as the Sun gently carresses my velvety skin.
'Hey sweet lady, a glass of cranberry juice would be just perfect.'
'Oui Mademoiselle' responds the sweet lady.

Hope and love; the duo keep me going.
Can we pause a little and reinvent our world?
Indeed how time flies.

@PENNITT

MY UP AND DOWN CHILDHOOD

You had a crazy childhood? I bet you'd think I had a milk-flowing 'pampery' one but nada. I feel growing up in Nigeria is laced with this uniqueness both negatively and positively. You can't compete with our definition of fun. It's an entirely different ball game.

♡ I played draft. You can't be a 90s kid who grew up in a ghetto and not know that game except you had a sad childhood.

♡ I played rubber band...set it up on my thumb and index finger and release it with force watching it go far and roll away. Do you remember come-back-to-me?
Weaving the bands into one long thread and hanging it on my neck with pride like a gold medal.
Throwing it to lap on the rubber band of another opponent in competition.

♡ Oh my dear Counter. How can I forget the creative way with which we utilised you. Asides kicking it over with my finger, I used it as tires to my dream paper cars.😂 Those cars we made of empty paper boxes and drove along where ever we went. Nuisance!

♡ I gambled a lot. Using 10 10 or 20 naira as baits. Often I was robbed clean of my snacks money😂. I was bad at these things. I'd always beg the winner to please refund my money as I was only joking.

♡ I played house. Gathering the stray kids around and playing the caring role of the imposing and talkative Nigerian mum (very typical) 😂.

♡ I was a teacher. I tutored whoever cared to enrol for my classes/lessons. School resumed same day and ended same day with reports cards adequately computed. Oh dear! I remember my small mobile blackboard given to me by my teacher father.😂I flogged the nonsense out of those kids.

♡ I played 'In Out, Out In, Enuguuu' 😂 please tell me you aren't lost. Tell me you can relate. This game helped us know all the states in Nigeria.

♡ I played 'Air Air, War Start, Firrrre'. Using my pawpaw branch with sticks as my dane gun shooting and killing innocent souls at random. You'll hear shrill cries of 'I killed you first, die die' coming from our cheerful throats.

♡ I entered the lagoon in my street in search of peakmilk labels and empty packs of sachet cowbell just so I could win some rolls of milk and fancy biros.😂

♡ I did roll some papers into the shape and size of a cigarette, lit fire to one end and smoke away in an euphoria of stupidity😂

♡ I cut the mouth of my rubber toy open just to feed the poor lifeless thing with my dad's Venus cream all in a failed attempt to share in the joys of motherhood.

♡ I'd carry some kids in my nursery school during break time on my back, pinching them to make them cry so I act like a mother trying to pacify a crying baby. Smh.

♡ In sheer foolishness I would run to the centre table in our house to pretend like I was sleeping once dad was back so he wouldn't know I was the gangleader in the play on-going in the compound. I'd 'idiotically' shut my eyelids so tight thinking that was an evidence of someone who had fallen into deep sleep for hours. How ignorant can one child be?😂

♡ I always looked forward to those moonlight tales irrespective of the fact that the stories were overly repeated and recycled that there was almost nothing to look forward to again.

♡ I was a clay(ndom) lover. No. Addict is the word.. I never bought it. Always clandestinely stole or scratched a piece from Eka Okon's shop. The day I was reported to dad, I died and resurrected from beatings. I'm still looking for that little girl that reported me.🔫

♡ We took turns to stay inside a wheelbarrow as my friends pushed and wheeled us like James Bond😂

♡ I drove tires

♡ Danced and played in the rain. I'd often jump into mum's big water pot outside whenever rain fell pretending to be in a swimming pool.

...my ink needs to be refilled. While I'm at it, tell me your version of childhood in Naija.

@PENNITT BY GLORIA EDEM.

A TALE OF TWO FRIENDS: JUST AN I'M SORRY

'You know what your problem is?' Stephanie queried her best friend Quincy rhetorically. 'You are too full of yourself, I'm afraid you might choke.'

'You cannot rule over me girl, we are friends but then I'm not your mate. Who do you think you are?' Quincy retorted angrily fuming and barking like a wounded dog.

It is such a funny life. The suddenness with which life takes swift turns and negotiates bends will continue to baffle me.

Just yesterday Stephanie and Quincy were awwing and goshing into the camera about their friendship of years. Friendship that had survived turbulent winds of problem, anger, disappointments, disagreements and several tugs of wars.

Who could have thought that these two best friends will be at cold war today, tearing at each other’s throat violently? A cold war gradually evolving into a battle of words cum world war 3. Uttering the most despicable words. How did they get there?

One word people, one word. Pride. Ever been in those kinds of relationships and friendships you feel is unending? The kind you can swear with your life is inseparable?

I have always been an advocate of dialogue. No matter the gravity of the situation at hand, I always look at the bright side believing if two sensible and mature adults put their pride away and settle down to a one on one colloquy, they will definitely get to a reasonable agreement. All grievances could be amicably sorted out.

Just what if pride blinds us to the fact that we did wrong? Would you earnestly apologise if you were sure you weren't wrong?

'Be the bigger person' they keep preaching.

Nothing in my opinion kills or terminates relationships like pride. Refusal to say you are sorry because you feel you did not err.

Case scenario; you did something or said something to a friend thinking in your mind it was on a lighter note but your friend on the other hand takes offense at your action or words, the courteous thing to do is apologise. You cannot detect how your actions affects another person. They alone can tell if they were hurt or not.

Friendship should be loving, caring, involving, and strong enough yet giving each party a wiggle room to express themselves and a right to their own feelings.

If you can’t be yourself in any friendship, it is time you re-evaluated.
Quincy and Stephanie were never the same again. No. this time no patching was gonna heal the duo. It was time to kiss goodbye.

@PENNITT

INKING WITHOUT LIMITS: YES TO PROGRESS

The most important resources one can garner for his/herself is what I call, ‘People Resources’. Having the right kind of people around you or creating/investing in the right kinds of relationships is indispensable as you journey towards achieving your goals in life, as you endeavour to harness your full potentials to its maximum capacity.

What makes them relevant? There are times you feel inadequate, times you feel incapable, times you feel less equipped or talented, and times you have doubts about your abilities. These friends will come in handy as they will be a source of encouragement and serve as a backbone to you. They will show you the good in you which you may not have recognised. I’m grateful to God and such friends for encouraging and supporting my business. Mfonobong, Leroi, Mr. Nsikan, Harley.

Some weeks ago I was contemplating setting up my writing and editorial platform, I had doubts, I had hesitations. I had doubts. But as I type, PENNITT just completed her first official work for a client; editing a motivational book that will be published by the end of the month. PENNITT will officially be documented on a printed book. I feel really elated and excited at this giant stride. Three more books are on my desks pending publication. Awesome.

I’m using this medium to encourage you to start something. As of weeks ago I was sulking, but I decided to overcome my fears and it is paying off. Pursue that passion. Spend less time frolicking on social media. Invest that time in something productive. Hang out with the right crew. Give it your best shot. It truly pays. If it isn’t bringing knowledge, adding value or enriching your bank account, ignore it.

Thank you for all your support. For reading and commenting on my blog, for referrals and for your anticipated patronage. Ekemini of EKM Group, God will bless you dear. It’s been amazing working with you. I look forward to more.

Send in your writing and editing jobs, I’m still at your service.

@PENNIT

DEALING WITH FAILURE

It was the third term of my third year in secondary school, I was thirteen years old. The Nigerian school system requires all JSS3 students to write an external examination called ‘Junior Waec’, a prerequisite for your passage into the Senior Secondary category.

                Excitement was in the air as we gladly looked forward to becoming seniors, a category which comes with the perk of having your school uniforms changed into something more gorgeous and lovable. The D-day came and I did my best – well, I thought I did.

                The results were out and I rushed excitedly to check my performance only to realise I had the worst result in the history of my life. I failed everything except English language and Religious Studies. What happened? Did it matter what happened? Reality was that I failed woefully and my teacher Dad was not going to have any of that. No excuse or reason will suffice. None whatsoever was tenable. 

     I felt terrible. I should say that was the worst day of my life. Have you ever experienced heartbreak? That is exactly how I felt. Being too ashamed to give responses to ‘how was your exams?’, ‘hope you passed with flying colours?’, ‘I trust you not to disappoint’, and a host of other related statements from friends, family members and co-tenants. My tender heart was simply devastated.

                
I ran home that day and went straight to my room as I entered the house not stopping to acknowledge the presence of mum and my uncle who were busy discussing and laughing in the parlour. I lay on my bed for hours unending crying my soul out. I refused to be consoled by mum who tried to bribe me with food in a bid to cheer me up. The thoughts of disappointing Dad was killing.

                Well, that was me of yesteryears. I have grown up and gotten a lot wiser. I deal with disappointments and failures differently today. I’m not saying it’s easy but I’m saying you can do it. Let your failed attempt challenge you to do better. It should challenge you to strive for success. You are not perfect. Even fields of sweet scenting roses develops thorns. Does it stop the garden from producing roses? No! It doesn’t. Neither should you let a setback set you back. Make it the motivation you need to take giant strides.

                You will never conquer your fears if you do not dare them. Yes, there is pain and rejection if you are not a winner but the greatest failure is to never risk at all. I forged ahead with my studies and today I can boast of giant academic strides at a tender age not for accolades but to encourage someone that one or a series of disappointments CANNOT stop you from reaching the peak. Just don’t stop.

                When you fail, you never really fail. You learn. You draw a lesson from it. You find new ways to move forward, ways to work around future problems. “You needn’t be proficient to start, but you must start to be proficient.” I do not need to bore you with stories of great men and women who succeeded after several romances with failure. The bottom line is YOU CAN TOO.

                When faced with disappointment or failure;

• I cry it out to relieve myself;
• Take myself out on a nice treat;
• Critically examine the project again to identify my weaknesses;
• Learn all I can about it, research into it and get the necessary materials;
• I pray.
• Settle back on the task with a fresh zeal to succeed.

Above all, I keep a positive and optimistic spirit. Remember that positive thoughts attracts positive experiences. Think success and you’ll create success.

Have a successful weekend Lovelies. Never let yourself get consumed by self-pity. It kills the spirit.

@PENNITT     

GENOTYPE: A THIN LINE WITH HEARTBREAK

For those who date with purpose, not because they are lonely and just need company - or as you guys call it, ‘a special person to be sending me special good morning and good night messages so I can sleep well’ - the genotype issue can cause a raised blood pressure when not handled at the initial stage of the relationship.

I have no idea what boyfriend read on the net or the discussion he had with his buddies – because I’m sure something must have necessitated it – but it was somewhat frightening and at the same time chilling that he called that late evening inquiring of my genotype.

Frightening it was because I wasn’t aware of my genotype and he was AS. So many thoughts rushed down my memory, giving me cold shivers and goose bumps. Oh no! no no no! Chilling because the thought of boyfriend inquiring of my genotype made me feel he found me worthy to be a life partner. Hey! He was indeed very lucky to have me too. Come on! Do you know how many suitors I wade off daily? Oh you haven’t heard or read about me? The queen of Sheba! The beauty of beauties! The brainiac! The good luck charm! Should I go on? That should do for today.

‘Sweety, I haven’t checked my genotype before but my blood group is O+’ I responded in an effort to sound consoling.

‘Blood group ni’, he retorted. ‘Can I book an appointment to the doctor’s tomorrow so we can conduct the test together? Kindly clear your schedule honey’ he requested in a sexy baritone.

‘Sure Macho’ I answered in a jittery voice devoid of emotions.

That night we both experienced sleepless nights. Having known boyfriend was AS, I felt the burden shift on me. The mandate had fallen on me. I had to salvage the relationship by being AA but it wasn’t for me to say.

I knelt down, ‘oh Lord, do you still perform miracles for sinners like us? I need one badly. I promise to be good’

We chatted all night consoling each other and making efforts to talk about what our fate will be if we both turned out AS. Boyfriend didn’t want to talk about such possibility but we couldn’t run from it. We combed the internet looking for articles and genotype stories until we slept off.

It was the D-day and boyfriend picked me up at our agreed time as we drove to the hospital with solemn gestures and bowed faces like convicts.  On arrival at the hospital we ran the necessary test and was told to come the following day for the test results.

I prayed in my consciousness all day as all my characteristics and bodily features pointed to one thing, I am a replica of mum who is AS so I had no hope of being otherwise. I checked and rechecked and squeezed my body in want for evidence that might give me the slightest hope of being AA like dad. I was so pathetic.

The day of the test result came and I was too afraid to call boyfriend. I knew he was perhaps on his way to the hospital as I wasn’t courageous to join him. Minutes later a call from my phone startled me as I rushed on realisation that it was him.

‘Hello boyfriend’ I beckoned from my end straining my ears to pick up the slightest glitter of hope in his voice

‘Baby’. He called in a solemn tone.

My heart shrunk. Boyfriend never sounds like this, ‘so just like that our labour of love will be washed down the drain. Am I being a drama queen?’ I thought to myself. A tear dropped.

‘Oh my God!’ he screamed. ‘Girlfriend you are AA’ jubilation drowned his voice.

I felt hot tears of joy roll down my face. Very hot one.

We screamed and yelled into the phone in excitement and lack of what to say. That gratitude moment that words can just not express adequately. We stuttered, we stammered, we giggled, we laughed, we everything. It was a huge relieve. Well, we broke up years ago. But I felt like sharing the story.

You know when you’ve found someone so compatible with your spirit, body and soul, someone who is a perfect match for you, someone who loves you at your worst and best, then suddenly you realise you could lose him or her in a twinkle of an eye? That feeling is worse than heartbreak itself. Who says love is not sweet?

Share your genotype story with us if you have any. Do you know your genotype? Are you compatible with your man or woman?

@PENNITT

ALONE? NO! TOGETHER? YES!

Alone I can talk, but together we can have a conversation.

Alone I can smile but together we share laughter.

Alone I can be happy but together we can make merry and celebrate.

Alone I can write but together we can share knowledge and learn from each other.

PENNITT is just a few clicks away from a thousand page views as of the last article I published.

Thanks for the love guys. Read, enjoy, don't forget to leave
 a comment, & contact me for your writing and editing needs.

Gracias. 😘
@PENNITT

DEAR AMBITIONS

"What do you want to be in future"?

We chorused in response with eyes glittering and full of hope, varied answers ranging from 'I want to be a doctor', 'I want to be a lawyer', 'I want to be an engineer', 'I want to be a pilot' etc.
These were the common replies we gave in our innocence and of course every parent expected to hear such. Anything away from these set is outright disappointment on the part of the mothers and fathers.

Schools segregated us into arts and sciences and a few commercial students in a bid to help us follow our dreams. This was a good step no doubt.

Dad being an educationist would always echo and re-echo the need for me to become a lawyer as I had a witty way of speaking up for myself and others at all times. He wouldn't just let it go. He had divided the professions to suit my siblings and I. 'You will be a lawyer, you will be a doctor, you will be an engineer.

I constantly fell into a reverie thinking and basking in the euphoria of my life as a top earning and popular lawyer arguing cases and being a voice to the voiceless. I could always see dad nodding and smiling with pride whenever he overheard me engaging my siblings or mum in a war of words objectively and confidently stating my case. To me, being a lawyer was just a step away. It was just a matter of time.

I got my first blow after writing my first jamb at the age of 15 and missing the admission. What did I do wrong I asked myself? I got admission for my second choice of course which I proceeded to study while still preparing for Jamb the second time hoping to abandon the first course once I get the admission.

Again, I failed and that just got me despaired. You can imagine the disappointment and look of disgust on dad's face. It felt as if I couldn't succeed without law and as he proceeded to buy another form for me the following year, I told him a big NO. I'll be going to year 3 and I can't afford to waste these years.

Things have changed today. By God's grace I've recorded good successes in life. Some days I wake up doubting even the sanity of my own decisions and life's choices. Some days I feel robust and full of energy, motivation and vision for a great future.

Do not despair. Try not to compare yourself with others. We are on different paths. Some will crawl, some with walk, some will roll, and some will run, some will drive, but with hard work and determination we can all get to our destination.

I had a life changing encounter last night with a Mentor. I confessed my fears and inner struggles to him and he advised me accordingly. He made me realize that I’ve been too hard on myself. I should stop to count my blessings and quit complaining about the things I do not have.

Some might look at you like the man or woman with a life well sorted out. She/he has got it all under control. But I know we all have inner issues we are battling with. Rise above your limitations and challenges. Do not allow it inhibit you. Leave no chance for laziness. It is better late than never.

Pa Adeboye wrote, "There are many people who have so many excuses to give as reasons for doing nothing tangible since the beginning of the year. Time waits for no one. Get something doing, it may be small but God will breathe on it and make it great. Stop waiting for that loan from the bank before you start that business. Challenge yourself to launch out into the deep and you will be surprised that there is life on the other side.”

There are many people who are unemployed because they are waiting for appointments from oil companies. “IT IS NOT THE JOB YOU DO THAT WILL DETERMINE YOUR PROSPERITY; IT IS HOW YOU DO WHAT YOU DO"

Just don't give in to laziness. Do not let failure discourage you. Don’t let friends make you doubt yourself. You couldn't fulfill those childhood dreams? Well, it is not too late. Identify and work your abilities, develop your skills, re-strategize, re-shape and re-structure your life. You can begin on a clean slate. Yes you can. Find what you love doing. Do not fold your hands and invite God to take control of all your assignments. It doesn't work that way.

Have a blessed new week lovelies. I hope someone is inspired today.

@PENNITT

photocredit: speakzeasy.wordpress.com

WHO MOVED MY CHEESE? BY DR. SPENCER JOHNSON. A REVIEW.

This is a great piece about an Amazing Way to Deal with Change in Your Work and in Your Life.

The key word here, ‘cheese’ is used as a metaphor for what we want to have in life, which could be a job, a relationship, money, a big house, freedom, health, recognition, spiritual peace, or whatever we name it to be. It could be a goal you want to accomplish. This story as narrated takes place in a maze which signifies whichever location we are finding these goals or ends. It could be your work place, community, family, relationship, company, etc.

Who moved my cheese is a story about adaptation to new things, to changes, to different experiences and to new ways of doing things, - modus operandi. It is about training one’s self to be flexible and open to new ideas and ways. Do you change when things change? Or do you stick stubbornly to your old ways despite the positive changes happening around you? Are you afraid of change?

The book is written in three sections for easy comprehension. The first is a meeting of classmates who table their various experiences in life and at work. The second is the onus of the book, the cheese story. Finally the last part is a discussion on how the participants intend applying the cheese story to their daily living.

The cheese story is centered on four characters Sniff and Scurry (two mice), Hem and Haw (littlepeople, the size of a mouse) who ran through a maze looking for cheese to nourish themselves. The maze had dark corners, chambers, corridors, alleys, etc which contained cheese. All they had to do was wake each morning and go in search of cheese. Sniff and Scurry the mice, searched everywhere daily for cheese using their rodent brain while Hen and Haw used their human ability to think and learn from past experiences.

The little people (Hem and Haw) kept looking until they found a particular kind of cheese they needed in Station ‘C’, on finding it, they went daily to that particular spot to enjoy their cheese. While the mice kept going in daily search for cheese in all corners.

The little people got really used to their routine as they were so sure of finding their cheese in station C as usual anytime they arrived. They became sluggish, and woke up late being sure they will still get enough cheese to eat at their spot irrespective of the time they got there.

They began calling it “their cheese” and even got to a point where they moved into apartments closer to the cheese station then proceeded to build their family and social life around Station C. They took their friends to the cheese factory with pride to show them what a thing they have accomplished by locating the factory after such a long search. They were living the life. Arrogance set in.

Sniff and Scurry (the mice) in their usual search routine kept searching and inspecting for more cheese while eating to their satisfaction. They noticed that the quantity of cheese had reduced and was almost finished, hence they prepared for the changes. They started out in search for more cheese in other parts of the maze without bothering themself  or sulking over the finished cheese. The situation had changed so they had to change too.

The little people – Hem and Haw – on the other hand never took notice that the quantity of cheese was reducing in the station hence they weren’t prepared for what they found – the cheese had finished. They wailed and complained in disappointment not knowing what to do.

Finding cheese was their way of getting the things they needed in life to be happy, it meant different things to them hence the sadness and wailing on realizing they could no longer get those things they needed. They ranted so much and blamed others about the injustice of what happened till they got depressed. They spent so much time thinking of what to do. All they could think of was to keep looking around Cheeseless Station C to see if the Cheese was really gone while Sniff and Scurry (the mice) had quickly moved on, sniffing and scurrying for new cheese.

Hem and Haw didn’t want to know if the Cheese supply had gradually been getting smaller, they believed it had been moved all of a sudden. They felt they deserved to be compensated for what happened as they had a right to cheese. Haw suggested they go look for new cheese but Hem insisted they had to get to the bottom of the matter.

Sniff and Scurry finally found a new Station ‘N’ filled with so much cheese. They couldn’t believe their eyes, it was the biggest cheese store ever. Meanwhile Hem and Haw were still stuck in Station C until Haw decided it was time to search for new cheese but Hem convinced him to stay back and focus on their old routine which they were sure of, to avoid making a fool of themselves in a bid to search for new cheese. Besides, they are too old for such. They depreciated as the day went by, while believing if they worked harder in the same station, they would find more cheese.

Haw was beginning to realize the difference between activity and productivity.  He realized that doing the same thing every day will never produce new results, it was time to put on his boots and run through the maze in search for new cheese. “Sometimes,” Haw said, “things change and they are never the same again. This looks like one, of those times, Hem. That's life! Life moves on. And so should we.”  When you are afraid things are going to get worse if you don't do something, it can prompt you into action. But it is not good when you are so afraid that it keeps you from doing anything. He set off.

Haw searched for a while and began to feel discouraged but then thought to himself that searching for new cheese was better than sitting back in a cheeseless station. He now realized that the change probably would not have taken him by surprise if he had been watching what was happening all along and if he had anticipated change. He felt freedom as he was able to move beyond his fear. He created mental images of a cheese factory filled with cheese and how he was going to enjoy it. It uplifted his spirit.

He finally got to a new station with good quality cheese outside the entrance, he filled his pocket and ate some but on getting inside he realized the room was empty. He moved too late, he should have moved sooner. He refused to feel bad about it. Rather he was happy he made a move and had learnt his lesson to act fast other times.

Changing what you believe changes what you do. He wasted too much time denying the change that he missed out on getting new cheese.

Still searching through the maze, Haw finally found Station ‘N’ filled with so much choice cheese and his friends, Sniff and Scurry buried deep enjoying themselves. Haw settled in with satisfaction laughing and having bites of the different kinds of cheese he found. He realized that laughing at his folly back in station C was what enabled him to move on and leave his pity state in search of new and better cheese.

He reflected on his past mistakes and determined to learn from it and correct himself in event of the future. This is what the human brain does better than the mice. Be flexible, move quickly, and notice the little changes in your life so you’d be better prepared for the bigger ones.

• ·   Change happens
•    Anticipate change
• ·        Monitor change
• ·        Adapt to change quickly
• ·        Change
• ·        Enjoy change
• ·        Be ready to change and enjoy it again.

While Haw still had a great supply of Cheese, he often went out into the maze and explored new areas to stay in touch with what was happening around him. He knew it was safer to be aware of his real choices than to isolate himself in his comfort zone.

 

My dear readers, who are you in the story? Sniff? Scurry? Haw or Hem? What is your Cheese?

We all get afraid sometimes, do not be in denial, accept your fear, laugh at yourself like Haw did and changed for the better. Do not blame others when your cheese gets moved. Instead, move along with it. Move your own cheese if you must.

Identify your old cheese. Change or let go of it. Find new cheese.

@PENNITT