Friday, January 12, 2018

Can I have my holiday back?

Happy new year! πŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌ

The year is barely two weeks old, yet I have learnt a major lesson -- Never go on holidays, or you’ll come back to work feeling worse than before



Sigh
Don't get me wrong, I love my job! But in the past four years, I have not taken a real "break" -- I still always had "work" to do during the holiday season. 
So, I am really quite new to doing absolutely nothing -- which was basically me this past Christmas holiday.
All I did was eat, sleep, eat, sleep, eat, get fat, get fatter, eat, and watch Yoruba movies. 😐 
Don't judge me please πŸ˜’πŸ˜’
By Tuesday of my first week back to work, I was already looking forward to my next work break.  
You know it is real when you start lying to yourself on Tuesday that Friday is just around the corner  😐 

Now on to the highlights of my Christmas break:

1. I found out that my dad reads my blog posts and sometimes gists about them with my mum 😐 
I imagine their conversation will be something like
 "Ehn hen! Oya, come and see what your daughter has written oo
sigh, but daddy and mummy, is it necessary? 

2. I spent the entire break indoors with my family-- it's been so long since this happened, so I made sure to enjoy every bit of it. 
Thanks to the fuel scarcity -- there was no fuel to go out to "ja-ye" (enjoy life). 
So I basically, ate! ate! ate! forced my mum to cuddle me! ate and ate again. 
The good part was, we got to do ALL our Christmas traditions, especially the food related ones: making and eating a large basin of chin chin, roasting yam and of-course killing goat. 
3. I briefly met up with some friends from high school— some I hadn’t seen in over 9 years. 
Last time we saw, we were just leaving high school, still thinking of petty things-- now some of us are fathers and mothers  
Dear reader, I am no longer your age mate! Old woman typing here please 😐😐

4. I got the most amazing Christmas present ever— 
Perhaps I should go back to the DJ life? 

5. I slept at least thrice everyday 

6. I became FAT 
7. I decided to lose the fat through exercise
 I ended up with a sprained ankle from all the jogging and what not. and guess what? I don't think I lost even one kg. 😐😐

Well, here we are-- definitely back to work... 
Just incase my employers are reading this -- While the holiday was great, I am glad to be back to work 
Sykes


Wednesday, December 20, 2017

The weekend that was 3

Guys! It’s almost Christmas πŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌ
I have literally been saying “almost Christmas” since the first of December. But now, it is actually almost Christmas πŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌ
I am sooooo excited! -- Of course, you can tell πŸ˜’πŸ˜’ 
I even made Christmas hair 😐😐
Christmas is easily my best season EVER
How can you have so much joy, love, happiness and GIFTS in just one season. 
So far, I have received three different gifts from three different people— haaay! This year's Christmas is definitely turning up

Okay, back to this post...
Last weekend was pretty lazy and busy at the same time. I went to Lagos on Thursday, but as the lazy person that I have been for the past few weeks, I stayed at home all through Thursday and Friday. 

On Saturday, I went for owambe -- my high school friend’s wedding — Damilola Fagbemi, well now Damilola Olaomo
Sigh! I was super nostalgic during the event --- Like!  haaay! I knew this girl since we were all like 10 years old, and now she is doing “Igbeyawo” (marriage in Yoruba), soon she’ll be a mother, and before you know it --- gbam! she'll have her own 10 year olds 😨😨😱😱 

I AM NO LONGER YOUNG YO! 

I attended the wedding with another friend from high school, my forever home girl Yemisi (Also known as Yemo!)!-- You guys met Yemo some months ago, here.
 Yemo and I had the most amazing banter at the wedding (unfortunately, I cannot write them here 😐😐), but just know we concluded with “It’s really not easy to plan a wedding ceremony”. 
The stress though... sigh... especially if your parents have many friends. 
Bisola Lawal, same secondary school set -- 10 year old like all of us (sigh), was also at the wedding-- actually, she was there for both fun and business, as she was the make up artist for the entire event! 


On Sunday, I dragged a friend of mine to COZA’s Christmas Carol service πŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌπŸ’ƒπŸΌ 
sigh, I really wish we could have Christmas twice a year. 

Soooo, there is this annoying thing that happens when I drag people to my “other” church COZA -- They attend, and somehow somehow know like 10 people, 
So, they end up having to introduce me to people — 
Me that I brought them to the church oo. 
Me that it is my “other” church
How do they even know more people here than I do? 😐😐
This my friend even met like 2 of his cousins 😐😐😐
Like how nah

Then again, they live in Lagos, and the church is in Lagos (excuses, I know),
 Plus I just like the joy of going to church, attending service and then vroom! I am out-- No need to socialise please
Ambivert remember?

On Monday, I continued my driver duties and came back to base! 
But guess who is going for the Christmas break in some minutes? 😁
Me: Aunty, me me me! 

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Issaaaa Shiloh Husband

Hey guys, 
I am very lazy these days 😐😐 
I literally just sleep, eat, watch "big mouth" and drive from Ota to Lagos (Some people I consider "family", have turned me to a driver in the past month)
I originally typed this post over a week ago, but the deep sense of laziness I feel these days has made it so difficult to edit and publish 😦😦 
  
Two weeks ago, I attended "Shiloh"— Basically, a week set aside every year, where thousands and thousands of people come to seek God’s face in Canaanland. 
As usual, I had an absolutely amazing time -- being able to seek God's face concerning the coming year and the rest of my life.
But, just as we all know, when many people gather together in a place --- you'll have to deal with people's very different characters --- the Good, the bad and the somehow πŸ˜’πŸ˜’πŸ˜’
Just see that man finely photobombing the picture πŸ˜’
I know I may have deceived you to believe I am a "people person", but really, I also love my silence -- I am an Ambivert -- So just imagine how it felt being surrounded by thousands and thousands of people for a whole week-- sigh 

But haayyy! I got what I was around for -- my personal experience with God, so I am good to go

I deviate! Now on to this post, I had a strong "lol" moment during the one week experience

Shiloh Husband: 
During the course of Shiloh, we usually have a time set aside to share God's faithfulness through what we call "testimony time". On this faithful day, a man came up to share how he strongly believed God for a wife for a long time, after several trials, he attended the previous year's shiloh really expectant.
At the end of the service one day, just as he was about to take the bus home, he spoke to a certain lady, and viola! A few months later, the lady became his wife.  

Of course Nigerians decided to put it into practice immediately

That day, I didn’t hear word— It was like everyone wanted to tap into the Shiloh wife blessings. I can’t count how many men walked up to me between the 7 minutes walk from the church auditorium to my house, trying to initiate potential wife conversation.

It got to a stage that I just had to tell them directly before they made the conversation too long
Man: God bless you sister. 
Me: God bless you too. 
Man: How are you? 
Me: I am not your shiloh wife ooo 

Let’s just go straight to the point biko. 

In other non-shiloh husband related news, I seriously need to get out of my lazy phase-- Maybe I should add it to my "New year, New me" plans πŸ˜‘πŸ˜‘πŸ˜‘.
Please feel free to clearly read the sarcasm in that last sentence.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Your Breasts Are Perfect πŸ˜’πŸ˜’


Four years ago, I had a breast lump scare --- I was randomly examining my breasts when I noticed a few lumps. As expected, I freaked out, and freaked the whole house out. 
(No, this is not a sad story --- don't worry)

"I need you to urgently do a breast scan and bring the results to me" --- The pretty Hausa lady doctor told me after about fifteen minutes of a thorough breast examination, a day after my "discovery" (Yes, I noticed how pretty she was, despite the state of my heart)

A few run around with my mum, and I finally had an appointment set for a week later, for a breast ultrasound --- the one week to the scan was the scariest one week of my life-- mehn! I literally was not myself--- but as per strong girl nah! I had to form "man" -- Like "I've got this"

For the one week wait, I seriously went to my God in prayers --- I basically lived and drank the bible and the mountain of Fire prayer passport book. Luckily, I was waiting to pick up my NYSC call up letter at the point, so I was literally unemployed, and just eating free food in my parents house (That was the life then, I didn't have to pay bills or buy my own food --- The best days are truly the days in between school and work—- I am honestly done with being an adult 😐😐)
Day 1: Oh Lord, why me?
Day 2: Oh Lord, it can't be me
Day 3: Friends and family were really worried
Day 4: I have got this
...
Day 7: I am not afraid, My God's got this. 

Now for the juicy part of the story --- the final day of the scan arrived --- ghen ghen! My eldest sister came for the appointment with me --- as per moral support nah
I got into the scanning room, took off my top, laid on the bed --- ready to know my fate πŸ˜”πŸ˜”

The radiologist first did some routine check on my breast --- Left breast, right breast --- ✅✅
In my mind, I thought bros took a little longer than normal to carry out the examination, and was maybe a bit too expressive with his hands for a breast check --- but haaay! I am not the expert, so I just remained silent. 

Next, he began to rub the gel on both breasts -- just like before, I felt he was too expressive --- you know, caressing the breast just a bit too much-- but once more, I thought "Haaaay! I am no expert still". 

Finally, while rubbing the transducer (that scanner thing), this time around even my sister looked at me — and you know how siblings can speak with their eyes? We definitely both said "This is definitely more than just the normal check πŸ˜’πŸ˜’πŸ˜’" 

Now, the perfect icing on the cake, when the radiologist finished the "test", guess his next verdict?

Teeth shinning, bros said "YOUR BREASTS ARE PERFECT", with the quirkiest smile ever πŸ˜πŸ˜πŸ˜’πŸ˜’

While I was extremely excited that I was fine-- I also gave bros the straight face -- why won't you say they are perfect πŸ˜’πŸ˜’πŸ˜’

Main reason for this post --- A conversation about pap smears with my friend Deola made us, realize Africans and African ladies in particular, tend to ignore a lot of routine checks 

Babes, I know we are strong, and most importantly, Our God's got this! But please, every now and then, Let's try to get some routine tests done

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Chef Debz or nah?

Last week Friday, I experimented with a different Nigerian soup....
You know how we are more comfortable preparing what we have been eating for years? Luckily for me, I had a mix of Igbo and Yoruba soups growing up, because I was “mixed breed” — my mum introduced my dad to igbo soups, whilst also making ewedu and gbegiri soup— so I kind of had the best of soup life.

But I recently realised that “daasss the end oo” — after pure Igbo (ofe) and yoruba (obe) soups, e haff finished. I have no idea what soups other tribes had.

With all my love for oil and gas (both out of passion and as an Igbo girl seeking money bringing ways (don’t judge me), if I had to pick another state in Nigeria to go to — apart from my usual Lagos and Abuja, my next state will be Delta state (let’s go and cure the land and erm *coughs* make money while at it), but imagine while trying to “collect oil money”, I am told to cook a Delta dish to prove that I am part of the people --- that's when they'll catch me.

(I apologise, but my mind goes places)

And so, in anticipation of the oil and gas money I might need to collect in the future--- I decided to attempt making owo soup. 

My first point of contact was gugu (google) --- my source for all information— we really have things easy in this generation
Then, next I took cooking lessons from my friend Tracy, who is an amazing Delta cook with 100,000 wife yards.

And so, I had to visit the market to buy the ingredients for owo soup as taught by gugu and Tracy:

Starch - was so difficult to find in a Yoruba dominated market
Palm Oil - I had this at home
Orishirishi meat - Beaf, chicken, pomo etc
Spices - Maggi, salt and ko ( I had these at home also)
Kaun (I don’t know how to spell it biko) - Native salt (I may have kept too much in the soup)

According to a mix of Tracy and gugu’s Cooking manual
1. Cook your meat as usual
2. Pour palm oil into the stock (water)
3. Mix your starch seperately in warm water, till it is “pasty”
4. Pour the starch into the palm oil stock water and keep stirring till it is evenly blended
5. I think it was at this point I kept the kaun.

And viola! I had made my first ever owo soup— or at least what looked like owo soup 
The soup (or at least what I made), wasn't so difficult---  It was basically meat stock, palm oil and starch-- pretty easier than most igbo soups. The soup actually came out looking like what I had seen online, maybe just a bit thicker--- but that's all I can talk about-- how it looked.
Talking about the taste, because I had never tasted owo soup before— it was a mystery whether or not it actually tasted like owo soup. So just in case, I made my usual efo riro

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

I think I know what I want to be in future

About four months ago, my dad called for a family meeting -- Apparently, we [the kids] had been slacking for a while, and so he needed to talk some sense into us πŸ˜•πŸ˜•πŸ˜•

During the course of this family meeting, my dad asked my immediate senior sister a very serious question... Trust me! This question was the king of questions. It's a question that makes every child think deep and quickly re-analyse their life and what they stand for. 

Before I tell you the question, let me give you a brief biography of my sister -- the person the question was posed at
This is my sister

Her real name is Elizabeth, but growing up, she preferred to be called Queen Elizabeth. But you know how Nigerians [especially Nigerian parents] are with long names? So I want to call your name and you expect me to call like fifteen[15] syllables? 
So when I am angry at you and want to beat you for not washing the plates I will now be like 
"Queen Elizabeth, Queen Elizabeth, Queen Elizabeth. How many times did I call you? Oya bring that cane here"
So, somehow somehow, we just started calling her Queen at home. 

But as if the name Queen wasn't enoughπŸ˜ πŸ˜•πŸ˜  -- there was a period of adolescence in my house when my sisters and I fought each other, and somehow always disrespected each other -- Imagine having three young girls growing up together? If we are not fighting over shirt today, we are fighting about who will wash the dishes or mummy's clothes, or who will be the errand girl for the day. 

Being the youngest, I was always at the losing end of those battles, so I was very vocal -- I would insult everyone I could insult, knowing that even though I didn't win the battle, at least someone chopped enough insult to last them a week, and so my mum made a new rule in the house -- 
we must respect each other, and respect starts with a change of name. So I had to start calling my sisters "Aunty"

Imagine how difficult it was to say "Aunty Queen, you are stupid". Even your common sense will just be like "But Debo, don't you have common sense?"

Luckily for us, my mum's sister came to visit during the "aunty days", and thought it was just too somehow for us to be calling each other "aunty", so they watered the name down a bit, and I started calling my sister "Sister Queen". 

I still call her Sister Queen till now, 'cos the name stuck. But whenever we go out with her friends, she is always like "Stop calling me Sister Queen na", but in my head, I am always like "Ehn hen, so because now you are posh you don't like the title, but when you wanted respect growing up, you didn't know ba? My friend enjoy the name". 

So basically, Sister Queen was the recipient of the question my dad asked. 

Now, back to the family meeting
Sister Queen is four years older than me, and she is a medical doctor in a children's hospital. 
So in the heat of the meeting, my dad asked my medical doctor with over five years' experience this question --


wait for it... 


keep waiting for it....


wait for it.......


What do you want to be in Future? 
It was at this point that we all got confused. 

You see, my dad had been trying to get my sister to do some applications, which she had been slacking on, so I guess he wasn't really referring to her career, but other things. But, the rest of that story is conversation for another day... 

Now, back to me -- 

This morning, I woke up really tired-- because I had spent my whole weekend in Lagos, and maybe enjoyed it just a little bit too much -- I got back to my city in the village yesterday afternoon, and barely made it to the office. 

Usually, my Mondays are pretty relaxed -- I teach my first and only class between 5 - 7pm. On the contrary, my Tuesdays are hectic -- I literally have work to do from the minute I wake up by 5am, till 6pm. Teaching from one class to another, meetings left and right, and everything normal human beings do 😞😞😞
So when the world is crying on Sunday night about the end of the weekend,  I start my own tears on Monday night. 

Anyway, I woke up by 4am this morning, ready to start my Tuesday hustle, and I decided to answer the question my dad asked sister Queen four months ago

"What do you want to be in future?"

Brethren, after doing an entire SWOT [Strength, Weakness, Opportunity and Threat] analysis, I decided that I really do like TLC [Tender, Loving. Care], and it only makes sense to change my career-- to one that will guarantee me TLC every day. 

On that note, Ladies and gentlemen, I have decided that I want to become 

a PROFESSIONAL CUDDLER 
Google defn: a person that snuggles professionally 
My defn: Staying in bed all day, watching tv and eating chicken

In the space of two hours, [since my discovery of this new career path that I would like to follow] I have started doing some research and making plans for a change in career -- 
My future is here guys!-- 

Thursday, November 9, 2017

The Weekend That Was - 2

I met my friend's 82 year old grand ma last weekend -- very small, but overly cool lady
She is so small that I had to bend down to hug her, yet so cool that she put on the coolest sunshades to see us off after our visit. 

As small as cool gran gran is, the minute she saw me, the first thing she said was "Oh. such a small little girl", then she stretched out her small hands to give me one of the best hugs I have received in a while. 

The irony is, remember I said she is so small I had to bend to hug her? yet she still saw me as a small girl, and not just a small girl, a small little girl πŸ˜“.  Meaning one adjective for small was not sufficient to describe me πŸ˜“πŸ˜“πŸ˜“.  Of course my friend hasn't allowed me hear the end of how small I am.  
But the serious question right now is, how much longer do I have to wait for the beans I have eaten religiously for 9 years to kick in? 
Oh Lord, please remember your daughter when you are sharing height next time. 
Back to the matter at hand. 
Two weekends ago (I should probably name this post "The Weekend That Was Was" -- Get it? Okay dry joke -- I knowπŸ˜”πŸ˜”πŸ˜”), this small little girl went to Lagos as part of her usual weekend trip to unwind, after long hours of teaching and grading, and engaging in conversations that she'd rather not write about. 

First, she went to check out a "newly found" lounge called House J in Ikeja, with her friend Woma. As a foodie that she is, small little girl decided to be very spontaneous with the food menu -- so instead of having the regular fish (normal croaker and titus fish o), she decided to try something called the Barracuda fish. 
And that was when her longer throat said "pay back time"-- for she had been caught. 
Please know that, with the help of "gugu" (google), and the waitress' ghen ghen description of the fish, this small little girl was prepared to have the most amazing meal of her life -- she said to herself "Finally, I have made the right order". But just like every other time that she had tried to be spontaneous with the food or drink menu, she was highly disappointed.
The outcome of this spontaneity was a plate filled with mashed potatoes and a creamy sauce covering the very little fish that could neither be seen nor tasted. 
But, determined not to ruin a very good outing, the small little girl consoled herself by enjoying the amazing serene environment of House J-- calm music, nice pool, free groundnuts πŸ˜‹πŸ˜‹πŸ˜‹πŸ˜‹ and of course great conversation with her friend that chose the easiest thing on the menu -- assorted pepper soup
But that was not the end of the adventures for that night, small little girl's uber driver decided to be a "rap artist" and drop several singles for her on her journey home -- like he was proper rapping and doing the head movement for the almost one hour drive 😐😐😐.

Sunday was filled with food and laughter (The absolute recommendation for a happy life)-- small little girl's close friend Yemisi had clearly said to little girl  "Deborah, if you don't come for my birthday dinner on Sunday, I am going to be really upset with you" Just gauge emotional blackmail nah 
You see, Yemisi and small little girl went to secondary school together -- they've pretty much known each other for at least 15 years, and despite the distance after secondary school, they've always had this awesome relationship where even when they don't see or speak for a year plus, the minute they start talking, they start laughing and talking about everything. It's a really refreshing friendship, one that small little girl was not ready to let go of. 
So, Sunday was pretty much Yemisi's day. Dinner was to start by 6pm (or at least that was what Yemisi had told small little girl), but knowing Nigerians and our very strong African time, small little girl woke up form her afternoon nap by 6pm, to begin the long preparation for the dinner party -- her makeup took at least thirty minutes
But apparently, Yemisi and her other friends are the future generation of Nigeria's leaders πŸ˜’πŸ˜’πŸ˜’, because the dinner actually started by 6pm. By the time small little girl got to the restaurant, it was obvious that she was carrying her own dinner home, because every other person had finished eating 😦😦😦😦
The birthday dinner was at Casper & Gambini's in Victoria Island; the food was a good portion and relatively affordable, the sitting arrangement was quite decent, with enough space to take pictures -- but the general lighting of the restaurant completely ruined the pictures-- the lighting was a little bit too dim, with a shady colour that made most pictures look blurry-- but trust snapchat filter and selfie lights, this small little girl had enough pictures to dominate her instagram and snapchat timelines. 

First thing on Monday morning, the small little girl began her journey back to her little city, surrounded by a large village. 

P.s. I truly truly planned to put up this post on Monday after my "vacation" to Lagos, but mehnnnn! the battle between self will and the spirit of laziness is strong -- and it is pretty obvious who has been winning the battle.