"Wanda's Tale" by Ritkatmwa Gwan Episode 3

Wanda meets Jude:
It was a hot Wednesday afternoon and the scotching sun on campus seemed hotter than usual. Wanda made her way through OAU walk, she had just 5minutes to the start of lectures and she didn’t want to sit outside. Professor Koroma would let you sit in the scotching Northeastern Sun if you were five minutes late to his class….not to mention the Maiduguri flies that seemed high on steroids.
She could tell someone was trying to get her attention but she was the least bit bothered.“These guys don’t know when to toast girl abi”…the sweat trickling down her back wasn’t the only thought running through her head, her misplaced face towel was competing for her thoughts …“ excuse me, hi” Wanda’s patience was thin at the point and without a second glance at whoever it was she blurted out her repugnance…“ahh, what is it, can’t you see I’m late for a lecture? please, I don’t have time for this” and walked off.He looked at the purple face towel in his hand and walked quietly behind her. He knew he had seen her before…trust me, this wasn’t a cliche move he knew she needed the towel.Just as Wanda was beginning to enjoy the coolness of the barely functioning fan in the lecture theatre Cynthia passed her face towel, “that guy said I should give this to you”… Her flushed face did no help masking her embarrassment.She quickly looked away and the lecture seemed like an eternity…she would almost forget he was there but each time she tried to steal a glance, their eyes met; those eyes…. “what is this?” He looked too good to be trying for her attention...With Prof out of the way, she knew he would walk up to her, what would she say…before she had a chance to gather her thoughts he was a few feet from her desk, his perfume had a soft smell of talc almost like a baby smell to it…his presence was over powering..."is he that tall or it's cos I'm sitting?"
“I’m sorry about earlier, I,I,I…” her stutter was more embarrassing…
, “it’s fine, you wouldn’t have known I had the face towel, it’s OK…”
with an almost convincing gentlemanly demeanour he stretched out his hand for a handshake and Wanda was awed by his smile.
“I’m Jude”……” ammm, I mean, I’m Wanda”.
Her heart rate was accelerated, the sweating had returned….why did one hand shake have so much effect on her?!
Watch out for Episode 4 next Monday... feel free to Comment, like and share...

Episode 2 "Wanda's Tale" by Ritkatmwa Gwan

Episode 2

The night was hot, a constant reminder of the scorching Abuja heat but PHCN had struck and trying to pacify two angry toddlers in these conditions wasn’t easy; Jude didn’t seem to care, she didn’t want him agitated either. 

The neighbors’ son had been frantic and his wails could be heard a block away. Jayden was teething and Wanda in normal fashion  had offered “unsolicited advice, but it seemed Bonnie didn’t heed.

The sleeping beast didn’t need any agitation, he was troubled..was he having a mid-life crisis? she didn’t seem to understand what it was with her husband..

“why would I call my wife in my own house and she won’t respond? “Wanda?, woman where are you?…she almost slipped trying to get to the sitting room; 

are you stupid? she looked puzzled, did he want an answer? “hon, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you call, I was trying to put the kids down for a nap…” “so I’m now lying” she knew better not to pick an argument but he had been edgy since his return from work. She was still limping and nursing her dislocated rib from last week’s beating, another would probably leave her hospitalized. 

Before she could muster the words ‘I’m Sorry’ his punch hit her so hard she was thrown off balance. It was now her cries for help and pleas to her attacker, her lover, father of her children that filled the air. The neighbors were more angry than sorry, they needed the peace and quite… so, no one came, no one , even Bonnie was tired and Jayden’s teething didn’t leave any room for sympathy. As her cries faded so did her breath… The neighbours were getting frustrated but when the sobbing ended everyone thought; “peace at last”…“finally some peace and quiet…now we can sleep”

-- The shrill cry from Wanda’s house pierced the early dawn, “not again” the neighbours taught it was too early to start. As Bonnie rolled over to pick a cranky Jayden her eye caught the night stand clock it was 4:25AM…”what could Wanda and Jude be up to this early?” 

In another 8 days, her thought in this exact moment would race through her mind standing by the coffin like some dejavu… 

...Next week Monday (Episode 3 ) we get a little deeper into how it all began.

"WANDA’S TALE" BY Ritkatmwa Gwan

EPISODE 1
Wanda was young and by many standards beautiful. She was swept off her feet in her 200 level, contrary to her terms she agreed to a whirlwind romance.
The proposal was wonderful, fit for a movie scene. Then she said yes.
It was the first day of camp and the stress of wedding plans weighed heavy on her mind. A month later the wedding done and NYSC underway, life was sweet. The slap that hit her cheek wasn’t expected; it’s force pushing her to the ground...I thought he was different now?

Her sobs were silent but the stream of tears poured freely… He would later apologize and tag it "an act of the devil".
Months passed: ---Baby in hand and loads of chores to do Wanda ponders what it’ll be like keeping a job; a dream she can’t pursue, her first class certificate lay securely in the bottom of her Echolac box.
‘’hon, don’t you think I should get a job’’ the awkward silence stretched…she feared the beast had been angered by her question; “I could help with up keep” it was the sound of shattering glass that broke her concentration, he had aimed and barely missed her, the tumbler hitting the wall. That night she learnt suggesting help was an insult; after all he was the man.
The news of her second pregnancy came with mixed feelings, friends and family had a glossary of advise “why can’t you leave him, he’ll kill you, what kind of love is this?” Oh! She wished she could provide answers to these questions she had often asked herself. “He loves me, I know he does, he’s just frustrated” “you know a woman is the one that makes the home, just stay and make it work”.
Was it all her fault, had she brought the emotional and physical pains to herself? Did she deserve it all?

The story continues...Episode 2 next week Monday...

Its been sometime since the news of children dying from lead poisoning in Bagega filled the air waves..the media chewed the authorities, the artisans and even the victims depending on the angle the reporter took. Bagega a community obscure to even people in Nigeria became a centre of national and international concern.
June 2010, a routine immunization led to health officials discovering what became a threat to the lives of several hundred thousand people.

Promises were made; the government, the artisans even aid providers. Parents dug the shallow graves and the tiny bodies of their children were laid down…the lead had been ingested through hand-to-mouth contamination when villagers took crushed rocks home for extraction..some even used the utensils from their kitchens…

Zamfara is a mineral-rich state with significant gold deposits and the resulting lead poinsoning was atributed to artisanal minning.

The over 160 children who met their death had been digging for gold and were thought to have contracted malaria. Some research then revealed what health officiala feared; it was lead poisoning.
The Blacksmith Institute was called in to assist in removing the toxic lead. Lead is a naturally occuring heavy metal; it was the unhealth practises that exposed adults and children to the dangers of the metal.
The government had blamed artisans for failing to obey laid down laws…but the question asked is were the artisans aware of laws governing minning if any? Was there regulation? Who was responsible for it?

As part of their efforts to stop the epidemic, government then attacked illegal mining and a clean-up of the area. Treatment camps were established to deal with the crisis and this resulted in some survivors.
Years after, it is not clear what the fate of the local minners became, Young men and women became part of the growing unemployment statistic.
A human rights watch publication pointed out that cooperation between Nigeria’s government and international partners was expected to: implement safer minning practises; conduct envirinmental remediation and test and treat children.
The sites of the tiny graves and the silence around the once busy minning community is a constant reminder of the death and mayhem they went through.
As recent as April this year (2014) research by the lead poisoning
prevention program at the centre for disease control reveals that, children are no longer dying of lead poisoning.

CHANGE!!!

Long time away.
I've been doing some soul searching and have come to the conclusion that CHANGE is necessary at this time (inevitable I dare say). A wise woman (Pastor Mo) recently challenged me to make a change in my life...she wasn't speaking to just me, we were close to 300 in the room but I heard it (i'm sure) clearer than most people.
First I must say I am officially delivered from people...oh trust me, it's a good feeling, I didn't know  I wasn't until I commenced the soul searching. The journey to change stared for me a few years ago, 2010 to be precise that's when I decided to go natural and trust me as hard as I knew it was going to be, I took the plunge.
Now four years after and I'm taking another plunge...this time a harder one (you might say I have a knack for Herculean tasks)...
I am a strong believer that when things are going to happen (good or bad) someone is always ''sent''. My messenger was 1.7 mtrs and 152 pounds (Peace) she said if in 90 days you do anything continuously it becomes a habit; she also said to achieve anything one needs to DECIDE, COMMIT and DO...
so here I am trying to make a healthy life style a habit.
For the next 90 days I'm doing this.
I am not only working on building better life style choices but my attitude, character and becoming a dispenser of good. I want my aura to be on of pure joy and happiness.
Come with me as I share my challenges, Victories and wins with you...health they say is wealth and I'm making a change starting with the girl in the mirror...
90 days,  this is Day 3 and it's been a challenge I tell you.

Restart..

Restart..
welcome to 2014 and 'living your best life'. It's a new year and s time of doing new things.A new begining often signals the start of or commencement of a new thing; it also means to undergo the first of or to begin to do something.
Often we allow our past redefine not just our present but our future.what is that new thing or few things as the case may be that you what to begin doing?it's important to be able to identify them. For me two major things come to mind; first, asking questions and, eating healthy funny you may say. I used to allow missed opportunities get to me; but since I heard a wise man re-state that 'the earth rotates in it's orbit and on it's axis' I know i'll get another go at it. However it's my preparation to face it again that determined what lessons I learnt.
So, as 2014 takes off my first tip to living your best life is "START OVER" I say that again "START OVER". Don't be afraid of a new beginning.  As mysterious as it may seem, it might just be exactly what you need.
"START OVER" and remember to love your best life!

COMING SOON!!!

Some of the greatest human needs is to be understood and appreciated (loved). The world is often filled with messages that tell us we aren't okay or we have failed. In the ''Living your best life" series, we will attempt to address topics that help us live the best life we can while fulfilling the basic human needs.

watch this space!

Wanda's Tale...

Domestic violence and Mental abuse are issues we often gloss over. It mostly gets our attention when victims are deceased of maimed. It's sad how we turn deaf ears to the loud cries of domestic violence quick to say "it's not my kettle of fish". Domestic violence transcends gender or race, it also goes beyond physical abuse. more and and more people suffer psychological and emotional abuses more often than physical abuse. Lets help stop domestic violence, if you're not a victim you could be affected.

Here is the story of Wanda.

 Wanda was young and by many standards beautiful. She was swept off her feet in her 300 levels, contrary to her terms she agreed to a whirlwind romance.

The proposal was wonderful, fit for a movie scene. Then she said yes.It was the first day of camp and the stress of wedding plans weighed heavy on her mind. A month later the wedding done and NYSC underway, life was sweet.The slap that hit her cheek wasn’t expected; it’s force pushing her to the ground. Her sobs were silent but the stream of tears poured freely… He would later apologize and tag it an act of the devil.Baby in hand and loads of chores to do Wanda ponders what it’ll be like keeping a job a dream she can’t pursue, her first class certificate lay securely in the bottom of her Echolac box. ‘’hon, don’t you think I should get a job’’ the awkward silence stretched…she feared the beast had been angered by her question; “I could help with up keep”  it was the sound of shattering glass that broke her concentration, he had aimed and barely missed her,  the tumbler hitting the wall. That night she learnt suggesting help was an insult; after all he was the man. The news of her second pregnancy came with mixed feelings, friends and family had a glossary of advise “why can’t you leave him, he’ll kill you, what kind of love is this?” Oh! She wished she could provide answers to these questions she had often asked herself. “He loves me, I know he does, he’s just frustrated” “you know a woman is the one that makes the home, just stay and make it work”.  Was it all her fault, had she brought the emotional and physical pains to herself? Did she deserve it all?

The night was hot a constant reminder of the scorching Abuja heat but PHCN had struck and trying to pacify two angry toddlers in these conditions weren’t easy, she didn’t want him agitated either. The neighbors’ son had been frantic and his wails could be heard a block away.“why would I call my wife in my own house and she wont respond? Are you stupid?“hon, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you call”“so I’m now lying” she knew better not to pick an argument but he had been edgy since his return from work. She was still limping and nursing her dislocated rib from last weeks beating, another would probably leave her hospitalized.

Before she could muster the words ‘I’m Sorry’ his punch hit her so hard she was thrown off balance. It was now her cries for help and pleas to her attacker, her lover, father of her children that filled the air. The neighbors were more angry than sorry, they needed the peace and quite… so, no one came, no one. As her cries faded so did her breath…

As the casket made it’s way down the aisle he could only wonder why no one had stopped him, he was regretting every moment of it…the neighbors cried knowing they would live with the fading sounds of her cries from that night.The stares of the congregation were like bullet hole penetrating his body even his children had a dead look in their eyes, had he ruined their childhood?The armed guard quickly whisked him away just as the ambulance drove by, her family had used a picture of her smiling, and the poster looked so much like the Wanda he had met some 12 years ago…   

Dear Jill

I'm going to assume most of us remember the nursery rhyme ''Jack and Jill"? it went something like ...Jack and jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water... well, I'd just go ahead since my story isn't about that Jill, it's about me; I am the Jill in this piece.

Only a few months ago I started receiving letters that had vital information and knowledge. It was addressed; ''dear Jill,'' hence my new title. The letters addressed a glossary of topics.
I always anticipate the weekends, it became my new saturday ritual knowing that I had something coming. The letter had such accuracy and exactitude, hitting every burning topic spot on. Imagine my joy when I realized jack was also receiving letters; of course I started reading his as well (not that it wasn't for me to read).
  It soon became habitual that I even shared its content with friends and anyone who cared. Here is a bit of one such letters;

dear jill,i want to share an insight with you this morning. I had gone to the cinema with my wife and as we drove back i stared into the night through the window of my thoughts, and then a profoundness hit me. it occurred to me that as we go up and down the surface of this earth we are collating data. Essentially thats what we do.We are data collectors and to that extent we are storage facilities- servers. we go up and down gathering data like a robotic space probe on planet Mars.We are data rovers. Our eyes are cameras, our ears collate audio files, our senses are receptors. We have specialized apparatuses. We gather data, record images, sounds of life, words, knowledge, pictures of places, videos of interactions... I'd never seen things this way even though it's so obvious. Our eyes record life. We store sundry data in our brains. 

The man who lives to be 70 years essentially has 613,620 hours of video and recording. That's terabytes of data. Theoretically, at the end of our lives someone can plug in a hard drive and download all the data collated.  Perhaps God does, who knows!

When we meet in social fora we are essentially creating a network of servers for transfer of information. At such functions we acquire additional data, using them to analyze the data we have. Same thing goes on at work, only that it is a more focused and purposed interaction. We forma dedicated network of servers, sharing pertinent files to maximize productivity. As I meditated on this thought I came to understand human identity and why we're different from each other. Our identity is in out genes (which is legacy data code)and the information we collate as we move through life.

WE ARE DATA!  Information is our identity, on many levels. Indeed when you think about it we behave according to the information we have.A man is said to be educated because he gathered certain types of information. A gossip is someone who gathers certain other types of information. We are the information we gather. We become the information we acquire There is a second level of differentiation of identity however, and it's related to the foregoing. We achieve further differentiation by the way we process data. As we process information so we turn out to be. This is the basis of that ancient saying: As a man thinketh so is he. The ability to process information correctly to arrive at practical solutions is what we ordinarily call wisdom.. We must develop the ability to process information correctly in order to succeed in life and relationships. Now let me shock you with a further bit of insight: the processor of information is not the brain! All the brain does is machine the sequencing of information. The real processor of information is actually the information we gather! Words are processors. 

We use information to process information. Let me illustrate. Assuming you have a friend going through a very rough patch in her relationship Daily she regales you with terrible goings on in her relationship. She's giving you data. What then happens is that you use her data to process the data you collated on your relationship. Using her data you can arrive at certain conclusions. For example: a). My friend is dating the wrong guy. A good relationship starts with the right choice. Or... b). My friend is quite stubborn. I must avoid stubbornness in my relationship so I can be happy. Or.. c). My friend's boyfriend is terrible. Men are terrible! Or... d). I'm lucky to have a good relationship and a good man. I'd better treasure it and treasure him! e). If we collect wholesome and edifying data we stand a better chance of arriving at wholesome relationships. f). Be careful about how you use the data of someone else's experience to process the data of your relationship. Relatedly, don't get into what Jesus called "offenses". Simply defined, creating "offences" means occasioning trials and temptations for others. Don't maliciously use data implantation to destroy the relationships of others just because you have challenges in yours. And don't let anyone do the same to you. You must be discerning in your interactions. 

Well, I believe I've given you a lot of data to help you navigate your relationship. Like I always say, what you do with information is up to you. Your mentor, LA.

A friend of mine introduced me to Leke Alder, now, I am insisting you follow @Leke_Alder on twitter, your paradigm is about to shift. 

World youth day 2013...

 

The United Nations defines Youth as persons between ages 15 to 25 while the African youth charter sees youth as persons between ages 15 and 35.  Age has become the easiest way to define this group particularly in relation to employment, education, politics and the likes. 

Youth have often  been discriminated as a result of this and no fair chance given for the full expression of their potentials.

The Youth form about 85% of the world's population and 30% of migrations world wide; so it would be OK to say, the youth make up the world... 

This years 'International Youth day' celebrations has the theme; ''Youth Migration: Moving Forward'' .  As a young person myself, I am not unaware of the challenges (whether social of economic) we face. Rural-Urban migration has been recurring for centuries and it's not about to stop; and youth are most often the ones moving. Several factors are responsible for this move. 

In Nigeria for example, most youth raised in rural communities are all in a hurry to move into the big  cities in search of a better life. The attraction is often that life is better in the cities. This move accounts for the crowded nature certain cities in the country. 

 For any nation to thrive there is need to create space and opportunities for empowering young people and giving them due recognition for their contributions.  When the youth of our nations are brought into nation building and development rather than being reduced to political thugs and tools of propaganda, real progress can  be recorded.

It is no surprise that the active population of any nation is it's youth, the passion and energy they channel into productive means can quickly be misdirected when proper avenues of channeling skill and know-how is not provided.

Rural-urban migration can be reduced when infrastructure and equal opportunities are created across border. This will also help to curb cases of trafficking as well as abuse and modern slavery.

Let the youth speak with cohesion so that a clear voice is heard, let the youth shun violence and refuse to sell their mandate for a piece of bread. When the youth take a stand, change can be effected.