TO MUM & DAD

Dear Dad and Mum, I don’t know how you will feel after reading this letter, so I’ve decided to slip it underneath your room door, as I hurry off to school; I hope you won’t be mad at me after reading this piece of my heart.

It pains me that I have to write these words to finally get you to understand that I’m in S.S.2, heading to S.S.3, as a science student who has little or no passion for how hydrogen combines with oxygen to produce water, who remembers only half of the physics formulas taught in class last term. I’m very sure you’re very impressed with my grades, but what my result sheet doesn’t tell you is that I only cram and pour all my teachers have thought me over the term; and what my report sheet also don’t tell you is how many times I sneak into government and literature classes just to listen to the teacher speak words that I can relate to; I’m sure my government and literature teachers don’t tell you how much fun I find their classes to be. You’ve always wanted me to be a Civil Engineer, and if that’s your perfect dream for me, then, I don’t mind sacrificing my happiness at the altar of your dreams. I just pray that I learn to love civil engineering when I grow up.

So many a times, I’ve wished I could share my thoughts with you, Dad, but each time I try bringing them up, you’re either preoccupied with your newspaper or you just shut me up telling me you don’t have time for my talks; how I wish it can be like the movies or the novels I secretly read in the dead of the night (for the fear that you might see them and tear them up like you normally do, since you’ve told me times without number that novels are for sissies), where kids can tell their parents anything and will not be konked for thinking out loud or being bold enough to air their views.

I remember the day I asked you, Mum, where you came from, i.e if you were born the way I was, or if you grew out of a tree or something; I was just 11 years old and I didn’t know better. I remember the way you laughed and told me that you had a father and mother too; so I knew I was going to be a father one day. Dad, the countless times you would hit mum in the face because she had the guts to question your authority, the countless quarrel that ran deep into the night, the abusive words you throw at each; the way mum tries to get back at you with her own words, I can’t explain it all. So I asked myself if I was going to be like you when I grow up; because I’m not sure you know how often I talk down on any girl who questions my authority in the class, and how I’ve been tempted to beat them up just to prove my points. I don’t bring my friends home because I’m scared they will see you both of you quarrelling and fighting each other, and how I try to stop you both from fighting by repeatedly shouting and crying in front of you. So instead, I make up wonderful stories about you whenever other kids are talking about their parents.

Dad, Mum; I just wish you can know me a little better than you think you do; I just wish you would come to understand that I have no passion for sciences and let me be the art student I want to be; Dad, I just wish you wouldn’t hit Mum, and Mum, I just wish you wouldn’t talk back at Dad. I just wish…

From your Son

#Gen. Sam

(www.deepthoughtspenneddown.wordpress.com)

FROM MY SICK BED

Mum, I thought of what to tell you; and when I had decided on what to tell you, my problem was how I would tell you, whether I should call you on the phone or whether I should write instead; but since I’m not sure I want to hear your voice again, I’ve decided to let a nurse help me write this letter while I dictate, since I’m to frail to hold a pen.

I can’t say I won’t forgive you, because whether I do or not, it no longer makes any difference. I have less than 10 days to live, the doctor told me so this morning.

The short skirts and hot gowns you bought for me, this is where it has led me Mum, at the dying patients ward. I know you wanted me to be like other girls, I know you wanted your daughter to be presentable like other girls, and so you bought me my first make up kit, you encouraged me to have a boyfriend, provided I showed him to you. I know how many times Dad nearly beat the daylights out of me because of my naughtiness and how wayward I had become, but I also remembered how you would leap to my defense no matter how wrong I was. You never objected each time I came home with gifts, you never asked who I got them from and what I did to get them; the expensive necklaces, shoes and wrappers I brought home for you, you never asked which man gave me them; you never bothered to care how many times I had to spread my legs so as to get you those gifts. Mum, I remember when I was 21, and Dad had just banned me from leaving the house if it was 5pm; I remember how you threatened to pack and leave Dad and take me along if he didn’t let me go out as I pleased.

I remember the day I came to you in tears, telling you that I had just missed my period, and the urine test confirmed that I was pregnant; I remember how you slapped my hands and asked me how did I get so careless, but promised to do something about it, which you did by introducing me to that doctor friend of yours. I’ve visited him 4 times again after that day, and four times I have had to lie on his surgery table while he performed his magic on me. I don’t know if I still have a womb, but that doesn’t bother me any longer because I wouldn’t live long enough to know the answer. The cigarettes and weeds I have had to smoke just to keep up with my extravagant lifestyle; the hard drugs that came with the wild parties that had become a part of my life till I was brought into the hospital in a stretcher, the strong drinks I’ve had to use to wash them all down, yeahhhh, I was a big girl, and that was how I thought big girls behaved.

The phones, clothes, bags, shoes and even that picanto car, I’m leaving it all behind, after all, they don’t disappear when death finally comes knocking; I realise now that they weren’t worth it, they weren’t worth me dying for them, they weren’t worth the AIDS virus I have running in my blood.

I wish I had listened to my roommate in school instead of moving out to go live with that boy because I thought she was always giving me a tough time. I blame no one for where I am today except for myself and you Mum. You didn’t spread my legs, neither did you give me those weeds to smoke, neither did you introduce me to those men; but you never stopped me, you never called me to order, you never sat me down as a mother should and make me realise I would be a mother too in the nearest future, and whatever I do today, my kids would copy after me tomorrow. Anyways, no need for such advise now; I wouldn’t even live long enough to put that advice into practise. Infact why I think God will never forgive you Mummy is because you introduced me into this lifestyle, you bought those ‘sexy clothes’ for me when I was younger, and so those boys and men started running after me. You knew they would, you knew they would never stop disturbing me till I said yes, and so you taught me how to handle them. Well, I’ve done all you’ve taught me, Infact, I’ve become a professional at it, I’m your best student, only that the reward I’ve gotten so far at being good at this is the illness inscribed in my medical report. The only thing I have to show for it is the virus running in my blood steam, killing me as the clock ticks by, eliminating my white blood cells such that I can’t fight back.

Well, it’s over for me, but I hope your conscience will let you live in peace for how you ruined me, mum.

And if by chance this letter gets to fall into the hands of the public, please I beg you who is reading this to watch over your sisters, your daughters, your nieces, your friends, protect them from this lifestyle, protect them from friends like me, that way, they won’t end up like me.

I have to save my energy, I’ve talked too much, and I can see the face of the nurse who’s writing my words down, I can see the pity written all over her face. I don’t need that pity, I got what I deserved. Please Dad I’m sorry I ended up the way you predicted I would. If I had known, I would have listened better, now I know better.

From your wayward daughter

From my sick bed….

#Gen. Sam

HEY DIVA

Of recent, I’ve come to understand the rationale behind certain acts of the female gender, but what I’ve not come to understand is why some still choose to be victims of some certain acts despite the vast storage of information and public awareness at their disposal; let me explain.No man turns a monster over night except if there’s a spiritual manipulation somewhere in the unseen. I watch as the supposedly “girlfriends” get beaten up repeatedly by their supposedly “boyfriends” over little quarrels; I see them cry, scream, and get abused; and I see them clean their tears, nurse their wounds, vow not to go back again to that beast, only for them to go rushing off into his arms tomorrow when he comes knocking at their door begging for forgiveness and claiming it was the work of the devil. How long will they continue being STUPID (forgive my use of such harsh term) to deduce the basic fact that, if he can beat you to pulp now, give you these kind of bruises that Mary Kay and other foundation can’t cover up, even the sun shades you wear can’t cover the black eye you’ve now got as a result of his macho slaps and punches; that he’ll be a wife beater tomorrow?

Please don’t tell me it’s love, and that love is blind (probably it will get you blind one day if you don’t pack your bags and leave); because I know love doesn’t hurt.

I wonder where all their self esteem went to; I wonder if all the clothes and fine English they speak outside is just a show to camouflage how insecure ladies could be. How he tells you to dress is the way you dress; he chooses your friends and frowns upon those who tell you the obvious truths about him. Gosh!!! You’ve left him countless times, and you’ve come back to him countless times after he must acted his drama of how sorry he is and doesn’t know what came over him; hey Diva, don’t you have sense? Do you think you can’t survive without the little change you get from his wallet? Do you think you’ll be useless without him telling you want to do? I refuse to believe you’ve stooped so low with all your education and exposure, to swallow all these lies line, hole and sinker. You don’t need a prophet to lay hands on you and tell you he’s not going to change, that he’s going to beat you up again tomorrow. You’re wonderfully and fearfully made, why do you keep allowing that guy make your face so look so fiercesome? You think your relationship is facing a hard time today and will get better tomorrow; and everybody telling you to quit hates the fact that you have a guy to call your own? And maybe soon you both will be marching to the altar? Well let me spill the remaining beans; you must be a big fool for believing that, and a bigger fool for keeping grudge with whosoever that told you the truth.

And when he beats you up the next time like I know he’ll surely do, you start looking for who to tell your story, a friend who will lend her shoulder so you can cry on, you start looking for self-pity; my dear, stop deceiving yourself, it’s not love, my friend Obinna Okpara will always call it “rofe”. Stop deceiving yourself that you can change someone who has a behavior running in his blood, a genetic socio-behavioral disorder.  Enough of this rat race; doing same thing over and over again and expecting different result is total MADNESS.

Do something meaningful with your life. “Na only u waka kom”, your life is not tied to his’. Move on; you can do better for yourself. Please don’t let your fate be like my friend’s friend who refused to listen, and now she’s paying the price in the morgue with a knife hole in her chest.

And for you Mr. Handsome, am coming for you with your own piece.

#RantOver

#Gen. Sam

LOVE ME FOR NO REASON

I sincerely hope that as you read this, you would understand or at least get an iota of understanding of what I hope to portray in this piece.

In this twenty something years I’ve walked on earth; I’ve come to terms with some certain truths about this love issue, whether platonic as friends or as lovers, or as acquaintance or even family. But these truths stare us in the face everyday, yet we hardly acknowledge them. Let me explain.

I was speaking with a friend of mine some couple of days ago, and she made a statement and I quote: “God loves us, even when we have nothing to offer, He still loves us. We have nothing that attracts him to us, yet he still loves us”. It struck me and got me thinking. I once saw a picture message of a girl who fell in love with a guy because of his afro hair, but after he barbed his hair to the scalp, the girl started complaining that he was no longer the guy she fell in love with, and soon left afterwards. Don’t love him because he’s hyperactive and would crack your ribs with laughter anytime he’s with you; don’t love her because she knows how to twist words and churn out articles that’ll get you thinking, laughing or crying as the case maybe; don’t love him because he can play football better than his peers, don’t love her because she’s got the best voice in the church and can pitch better than anybody you’ve seen alive, don’t love him because he’s quiet and would always keep to myself, don’t love him because he’s cute and handsome or because she has a nice dress sense, don’t love her because she’s got a nice body shape and nice hips too like that of coke bottle, don’t love him because of the mounds of muscle on his tommy called six packs, don’t love him because of that car, don’t love me for any reason.

You see, when that car is no more there, your reason for living him is gone; when that voice is no more there and she can’t run music scales like she used to, your reason for loving her is gone; and when the shape is no more there, when all that meets the eye is fat, more fat, much more fat, so goes all the hopes of your love for her; when those packs are gone from his belly and only fat remains, your reasons for loving him is gone too; when those nice clothes she wears are no more because she’s very very rich even to afford a 3 square meal and can barely take care of herself, your reason for loving her is gone; when she can no longer get you thinking with her articles because she stopped being inspiring, your reason for loving her is gone; and when his smile is gone, and he can no longer make you cry with laughter, make you clutch your ribs with laughter, make you gasp for air with laughter, so goes your reason for loving him too. Love me for no reason, love me because I’m me, love me without any clause or condition attached, because when it’s no more there, we resolve to saying “you have changed, you are no more the somebody I used to know…etc”

Learn to love that friend for no reason, learn to accept the person because he/she is who he/she is and not because of some attributes they possess. My father in heaven loves me for no reason, that’s why I have learnt to love you for no reason too.

#LoveMeWithoutClause

#LoveMeWithoutCondition

#LoveMeForNoReason

#Gen. Sam

DON’T TELL ME AM NOT SPIRITUAL

 (I promised some couple of friends that I was going to write a sequel to IT’S JUST A THOUGHT, so here is the sequel).

I grew up in a family where the scriptures were hammered into my ears from an early stage. Infact, my Sunday school teachers were very instrumental in my indoctrination. The countless fearful stories about the consequences of disobedience, of sin and all, got me. So I absolutely lived a life of fear during my childhood days. I was very active in the children department, I was in the choir, drama group, evangelism group (for the few times we did go out to evangelize). I would always be one of the kids to recite some passage of the scripture during our annual children’s day which was always celebrated in the adult department. I was one of the brightest.

You see, your environment and places you’ve been to, people you’ve associated with, your exposure to the world, it all helps shapen your beliefs spiritually and physically. It did mine.

So when I got newly admitted to the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, I had a very tough time adapting to the style of worship I met in the different school fellowships I saw. Till I left school, I knew a couple of brethren who would always look at me as the unbelieving believer (as we would always call people who hadn’t really grapsed the truth about Christ). I realised that since I wasn’t reading the same books they were reading at some point, I wasn’t spiritual or growing. I realised that because my cloths were always fitted to my size, because my shirts weren’t flapping when the Nsukka wind blows, I was termed as one who was in the church but still outside the church. That I was free with both the male folks and female folks alike, I was termed yoppie. That I didn’t pray long hours that others did, meant I wasn’t spiritual enough. That I don’t do everything you preach or say, that I don’t conform to every doctrine laid down, meant I still had a long way to go spiritually. I came to realize that in the Kingdom at large, certain brethren will always characterize spirituality as the way you dress (how many inches your skirt is below your knee; how flappy and bogus your shirt and trousers is respectively, how outrageous your make up is, etc), the way you talk and walk (at least am talking from a personal experience), how solemn you always are, etc.

I grew up in a different environment, got used to different style of worship; and like we all say: salvation is a personal race; I learnt how to worship my God in my own way; I might not have had the grace to pray 5hours at a stretch, but I had a place in God’s heart where my 1hour prayer got me tremendous results (though I’ve learnt to tarry in His presence longer, but that doesn’t mean that if I don’t, the way you do, that I ain’t growing); if I don’t cabash for hours you do, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a relationship with my Father. Every father has a way he reaches out to his own child and how He gets the best out of him/her; my Father in heaven knows how He reaches out to me, He knows my strengths and weakness and so He gives me the grace to do better.

Please, don’t be too self righteous to tell another that he/she is not spiritual; you don’t know his/her walk with God; you don’t see them commune with God in the secret, you don’t know the lives the little light of theirs is lightning up; you don’t know how God sees them and how much value He places on them. That they don’t attend the same with you, or they have not been in church for the past 2 months or so, does not mean they’re less spiritual; infact, going to church is not the criteria for spiritual growth. We can merely inspire, motivate, encourage and advice, but we can never play God in anyone’s life.

PS: you out there thinking you ain’t good enough or you ain’t spiritual, read these words and know that the only one who can tell you such and it’s true is God. It’s between you and Him, and since He hasn’t said you’re not growing or ain’t spiritual enough, then you’re.

#Don’tTellMeAmNotSpiritual

#IKnowWhoIAm

#Gen. Sam

OLD FRIENDS

This is the piece I promised a senior friend of mine that I was going to write after I had concurred to his point of reasoning.

You see, people will always tell you “that’s the way I was created; that’s the way I am wired” as an excuse for a flaw they don’t want to admit. I thought I was the only one who noticed this habit in certain people, I didnt know there were other observant eyes too till my friend spoke up. I once told a friend that the reason why some people in your past are no longer in your present is because they no longer have any good role to play in your life; but in retrospect; I will like to state this fact, that some of your friends are no longer in your PRESENT doesn’t mean it was meant to be so; sometimes, we think some of this friends no longer have things offer, either because we moved out of that immediate vicinity, be it a club, school, church, neighborhood, office, be it anywhere, or any other reason we may conjure. Over the years, I’ve realised that there happens to be some of my  “friends” who we shared nice time, had serious fun, prayed together, ate together, shared dreams together too; some we even envisioned the future together, had big dreams and plans for it; friends I called brothers, friends I called sisters; friends that meant or should I say still means a great deal to me; but a pity I can’t say much about them now, not because I don’t want to, but because of the human nature. I know distance always has its toll on every relationship be it platonic or otherwise, I know communication always reduce it the absence of the communicating parties, but that doesn’t mean you should wait for the other party to say hi on whatsapp, bbm, Facebook, or any other social media or even a call or SMS; before you know you have to reciprocate; that doesn’t mean it should always be one party doing the calling and texting, that doesn’t mean that the burden of calling and remembering should always lay on one party. It’s becoming unbecoming; so many good friends who still have lots to offer ate gradually being lost and forgotten just because we were too busy to pick our phones and dial that number or even compose that message.

It’s a new year, and am sure your new year resolutions are already underway; but I beg you, please don’t forget old friends this year because you think you’ve outgrown them or you think they’ve outgrown their usefulness, please make that difference this year… Thanks.

 

#Gen. Sam

Don’t STOP!!!

When I first started writing on Facebook as an active writer, I would always jump off on my feet each time someone like my post or commented; and when nobody did, I would silently sulk in my corner. The good I’ve been doing over the years and I thought were unnoticed by people was actually infact, well acknowledged by observers.

You see, we work everyday with all our hearts, silently hoping that someone would notice and say at least a thank you. We burn ourselves out for the right cause hoping that someday, someone on earth (not until you’ve died and gone to heaven and Baba God will say well done my pikin), will acknowledge us; and so when nobody does, we sometimes feel we’ve been wasting our time, we feel it was useless trying to do something good for no personal gain. Well, recently, I’ve come to learn something about consistency.  Irrespective of the fact that we do what we do, not because we want anyone to applaud us; until we become very consistent at it, the fruit of our labour won’t really pay out. Don’t stop doing good because no one applauded your first work; don’t stop giving because no one gave you an award for philanthropy; don’t stop acting, singing and even writing because no one said you’re good at it; the world is watching, every other person around is observing; sometime very soon; someone will shock you with a statement, a public applauds, a recommendation for your consistency in that which you do. Don’t stop doing good because no one is appreciating you, don’t stop writing because no one clicked the like button or commented; don’t stop acting, singing or even dancing because no one gives you a thumps up; the truth of the matter is that there’re a lot of people who get ministered to, people who get blessed tremendously by that dance of yours, people who get motivated by those acts of yours, those articles of yours; that might not have the courage or opportunity to walk up to you and tell you that you’re doing a good deal of good.

Don’t stop doing good, you’re blessing and touching lives, even if they don’t tell you.

 

#You’reABlessingToSomeone

#Gen. Sam

Did I get It Wrong

I was meant to write something else, but my thoughts were on the meeting I had just finished from. My hands kept shaking as I typed the words that were fuming as thoughts in my mind. I couldn’t say a word but I knew all I just wanted to do was pour out my thoughts into letters.

Like they say, nobody is perfect, but that doesn’t stop us from doing more; from making an effort to be better. People around will never stop misunderstanding you, but that doesn’t mean you should keep doing what will make everyone misunderstand you. Feeling lost? Let me explain.

Sometimes, we do some certain things with good intentions, hoping to pass a message or create a certain impact, but the result turns out to be the opposite, and so, the people who we do this for tend to hit at us for that action. When you notice a particular occurrence that has become a norm in your life, probably, your big mouth which doesn’t hold words together, or your tongue which can’t present words in a civil manner, or the air of haughtiness which discourages everyone from advising or calling you to order, or your extravagant lifestyle which from all indication is leading you to doom, or whatever it is that people keep complaining about (please note that there’s a difference btw people envying you and people who love you and wish you to change a certain act); it’s an indication that that part of you, that occurrence is what is pushing people away. You cry to God, you ask people why do people hate me so much, why can’t I just keep steady friends, why can’t I just be loved like other people; take a pause, and see that which everyone is pointing at; it might be the “shit” that has stained your white linen and scaring everyone away because of its foul smell.

We all are working towards perfection, listen when people tell you THIS is a fault which you should work on. You never can tell if it’s what is stopping you from being employed, whether it’s what is keeping that dream husband from coming near, whether it’s what is keeping you from growing and maturing into what and who you’re meant to be. Not everyone hates you. Please listen and take correction.

#ListenAndGetItRight

#Gen. Sam

The Checklist

My phone has been getting unnecessarily hot these days, and as such, has resulted in my battery draining a lot faster than normal. I couldn’t keep carrying my charger in the bag everywhere I go, so I decided to find out what was wrong. In the background, were unnecessary applications running on its own accord, applications and games which contributed little or zero percent to the efficacy of my phone, and which, more annoyingly was draining my battery power. I force stopped this applications, and now, my phone power consumption is back to normal; occasionally, I would go back to my app settings to check which application wasn’t contributing to my phone’s well being, and I would discard it.

LESSONS LEARNT:

Socrates once said that a a life which is not regularly examined is not worth living. Once in a while, there’s need for us to pause, have a sober reflection , go through our friends list and see who is who. After I had stopped being part of the crowd and started being who I was meant to be, I came to realise that there were some particular group of friends whom after haven visited, I felt drained and empty, I felt so out of place; I realised these ones, at every conversation added not even an iota of positive thought/influence to me. These ones kept draining my purpose battery power. They were my friends, some, childhood friends, some, I met as I grew older. And on the other hand, I noticed that there were some friends, whether older or peer, who at each conversation, something meaningful was added to my life; I realised that I kept on looking forward to meeting these friends, I realised that I looked forward to spending much time with them even though I wasn’t getting any material thing in return. Spending time with them shaped my thought pattern; my ideologies and philosophy about life changed; and it dawned on me these friends were playing alot more positive role in my life that I could care to admit.  So in other to preserve more battery life, I started curtailing the company of friends that I allowed into my circle, friends I spent much time with; I discarded the ones who kept draining me; I opened my arms to the ones who brought out the best in me.

You see, there are certain friends in whose company you would always see nothing but the negative part of you; friends who will always bring out the worst in you, and you’ll keep wondering, “am I this naughty, am I this wild, am I this purposeless?” And there are friends, in whose company you would always see yourself improving, discussing multi million ideas, discussing live changing projects, analysing and debating issues that matter. I would always tell my friend Kristiana Imeh, that the day I stop adding positively to your life, the day I stop being a positive influence; that day, know that I’ve outlived my usefulness to you; that day I stop being your friend.

So please, like I do to my phone, always discard the applications (friends) that keeps draining you. Though that doesn’t mean that you can’t reach out to them and be an agent of change in their lives; but in the process of doing so, don’t get dragged down in the same pit you laboured to crawl out from.

#AWordIsEnoughForTheWise

#KnowYourFriends

#Gen. Sam

Letter to the Fathers

To the fathers who would come back home drunk and abuse their children with words and blows. To the fathers who would come back home and beat up their wives just because they dared to say the truth. To the fathers who would insult and disgrace the mother of their children in public just because He wants to show that He is the man. To the fathers who have never been there for their sons and daughters, who would prefer to spend more time with his friends outside in the bar, than come home to his wife and kids. To the fathers who never even knew when their daughters became women, and their sons, men. To the fathers who after they have lost their jobs would come home drunk and beat up everybody at home. To the fathers who were strangers to their kids until they grew up and left home. To the fathers who are never home to answer their kids call them ‘daddy’ and ‘papa’. To the fathers who never did their homework and so let their sons and daughters pay the price in brothels and prisons. To the fathers who were never able to say I’m sorry to their kids. To the fathers who became enemies to their kids even after they left home. To the fathers who their wives were the so-called witches that denied them of their much-wanted progress. To the fathers who left home and never turned back, leaving the kids to be catered for by their mother. To the fathers who denied and walked out on their kids because of their mothers, even when they needed them most. To all fathers, this is a letter from your sons and daughters:
“We want to be the best we can be in the future, but we need a guide if we will make it. We don’t want our faces to end up on the ‘Crime Fighter’ scenes, so we beg you to groom us well. We are tired of the names they call the girls hanging by roadsides, the disgusting name they call the boys in the hood, so we plead that you teach us well. We know the economy is bad, but it should not stop you from loving us and respecting our mothers. Don’t beat us up in your frustration, lest we grow up to be like you. We might be naughty today, but if you will spoil the rod and spare the child, we promise to make you proud tomorrow. So please, don’t let us down today”.