Still, I rise!

2012! What a year! I had ups, but way too many downs! People I held dear disappointed, betrayed and ridiculed me! I changed pillows this year because of all the tears I cried, night after night. My health suffered, I was hospitalised, I really thought I'd be better off gone from this world!

Ah! But God! God! God!!!!!!! He is still God. He gave me a GIFT! And words can't express what this means to me!

Sugar n Spice and everything nice!

I am so proud of my baby sister! She has blossomed truly into this amazing woman. Growing up, she was a bit of a gremlin.Think classic baby sister with a touch of lbs (Last-born syndrome) and fifty million doses of attitude!
She went through her angry-girl years, frustrations and growing pains and now VOILA She is a top business woman with her very own bake-shop to prove it.
Baking's been in my family for as long as I can remember. My Grannie (My Ma's Ma) baked and all her daughter's learned from her. She also was a dressmaker, and my Mom wondered which one of her two girls or boys would pick up any of these talents. Ima's baking started out as a way to vent her anger, trust me when you have to mix a cake by hand, the only emotion you'll feel at the end of the day is fatigue! Anyway, before long, she became a whizz! Thanks to several sugar craft classes all over the country, millions of hours glued to the tv screen watching Buddy and the likes whip up the most mind-boggling cakes and lots of hardwork and perseverance she is the proud owner of Sugar n Spice Bake Shop in Calabar.



So, if you are attending the Calabar Carnival, don't hesitate to check out her shop. You'll be glad you did. From the fab decor (THANK YOU ME!) to the amazing equipment, you'll have your cakes just the way you want them and more.

Oh and its Number 12 Atimbo Road, the events place- Calabar.

Money ain't a thing!

These past few days have been sheer turmoil for me. Drumming up ways to up my finances, being faced with the possibility of partnerships that scare me and get me thinking too.

My friend invited me for a wedding recently, and much as I am not a huge fan of weddings, I decided to go. I curled up my hair, dragged out my famous mono-shoulder lbd, cinched in my waist, pulled on my embellished flats, swiped on some red gloss and was ready to go.

We clambered into a car that was not exactly in mint condition and headed on down. Now, all the way there, my lack of finances preyed heavily on my mind. I just kept thinking, how many more rides are you going to have to hitch to places? Am I ever going to get a car of my own? I thought about my dress which did wonders for my skin and curves, what if there’s a red-carpet and they asked who designed my dress? What’d I say?? As we almost got to the venue, I noticed that Mobile Police had blocked parts of the famous Falomo bridge, and palpitations started in full-force! Oh my days! I was going for a wedding of the crème-de-la-crème of Lagos or even Nigeria. I dragged on confidence and thought to myself-I’m going in!

We got there, and it was this huge tent with no space for us to sit, it was soooo rowdy! It was a bleeding carnival! People hogged seats like petrol the first day Goody made the announcement of the increase! I was in awe! We finally got seated, and heard the well-paid MC yelling for everyone to be seated. It was utter chaos!

It was now time for introducing the “guests of honor” and the MC screamed out the names and their accomplishments. There were governors, ex-governors, socialites, rich and famous people on that roll-call. Then, the food started coming in. Trays of nicely arranged rice and protein, cocktails, bottles, oh so many bottles of champagne! It was like a market with nicely dressed people in it. Amidst this all, the bride and groom danced in, but people were more interested in taking photos of themselves, (me inclusive) and chatting at length about the bride’s not-so-fab dress, the luck of the bride, and the fact that she was marrying a lagos big-boy(whatever that is).

I started thinking that these people, or whoever paid for that wedding didn’t have the same problems as me. There was a lot of money infused in that wedding. It was obvious from the exquisite, but gaudy pink décor to the massive bomb-sniffing dogs outside the venue, to the wail of thousands of sirens from the bullion vans of the MOPOL, and all the who-is-who, but one thing that wedding lacked was warmth. There were no teary-eyes in the tent, but eyes glazed from too much champagne, no one around me seemed to even know the couple that well, I even got a tap on my shoulder informing me that it was time to circulate and did I bring any cards? Girls were draping themselves all over rich, pot-bellied big men and would come back squealing in glee, flaunting the complimentary cards they’d got.
Now, I am not dissing rich people, or society weddings, but it got me thinking that money wasn’t everything.

I remembered weddings I’d attended were water-proof mascara was a must, because when the bride walked towards her husband and took her place at his side, tears flowed because we knew their story. We knew what struggles these people went through to get there. Yes, there were grouchy relatives, or disgruntled exes and other fussy people, but the overall tone of the day was a blissful, happy one. I even remembered the way my church would gather round to make the day a blissful one for the couple. Donations of bags of rice, my Auntie would call all the women to cook for the wedding in her backyard, my Mom would painstakingly sew the bride’s dress and the whole train too! She’d get us (the kids) to pray over the dress before she packed it away in that big blue box she used for wedding things only. My brother and I would bead the lower part of the dress, or cut out the lace pieces, or stuff the purses for the day.
Granted, my Ma is not Vera Wang, (even though she’d give old Vera a run for her
money)but there was so much love and sacrifice put into weddings then!

Nowadays, weddings have gone awry! I don’t want to feel like someone did me a favour and put a ring on it, or that even though I didn’t like the décor, I’d go for it cos it is the “in-thing”, I don’t want to invite the governor just so he can buy us a car, or so people can talk for months about the “big-wigs” at my wedding. I don’t know him!

 I want to feel like a Princess on my wedding day, I want to soak up all the good will/wishes coming my way, I want to look around me and smile and wink at familiar faces, I want to dance and smile till my feet and cheeks ache, I also want it to be a memorable day for my friends and family and of course the groom! One thing, though money can’t buy that feeling!

Le sigh

I have been trying to reach you for a while. I wanted to get another blackberry, and as usual I turned to you for the hook-up.
I called and called, your phone's were switched off. I decided to leave you a line on facebook, and then I see all these people saying " Rest in Peace". I immediately felt cold. Apparently you died over a year ago, and I didn't even know!

I remember when you started getting obsessed with power bikes and I told you they called riders "Organ donors", who'd've thought you'd die that way?

I'll always remember your easy-going attitude, you were my super-nerd! How you made me laugh, how you drooled over my pasta, and all the gossip.

Rest in Peace puppet!

The "Little" People

I am not much of a fashionista, and I have curves. Loads of curves! My curves have curves, but as usual, I digress, Anyway, I got off this steroid that I'd been on for about 4 years which made me put on so much weight (Thanks Dr M, God is watching you!) and the weight just started melting off! So, being me, any-time I found a style that worked for me, I stuck FAITHFULLY. I had some ankara skirts made, same style different colors, that showed off my brand-new waist-line. I figured I'd just tuck some tank tops into them, slip into my staple- comfy flats, grab the nearest handbag (THANK YOU COLOUR-BLOCKING)  and be out the door in no distant time. 
That worked for a while, and it was fab until I saw a picture of myself in a magazine and promptly flipped! The supposed empire-waist was somewhere under my belly! So, the next time I heart that weird scissors-clicking-against-sewing-machine noise (don't be a snob, you know the one!) I yelled "Aboki!" And for a little amount of money, I was back to my fabulous, stylish self!
Anyway, my waist-line wasn't done reducing apparently, so another day I was set to go on a date, and voilà! a gape at the waist! Again, I hear the clink and yell "Aboki" and before you know it, I am back with a bang!
The guy was a dweeb, and my "efforts" were wasted. 
Now, in the business of love, giving up isn't an option, so about a month later,the day came that I had dinner with a hottie and since I had convinced myself that one of these ankara skirts would land me my hubby, I whipped out the skirt again and tried it on and behold the gape again! I yell "Aboki" and so we start the process:


Me: Aboki, please hold this skirt at the waist for me, maybe an inch on each side. How much?
Aboki: Madam, why you no go just wait make you lekpa reach as you like, then you fit change the skirts? Or buy new one sef?
Shocker! I look at him, and I could've sworn I'd never set eyes on him before!
Me: Ah! You don do work for me before?
Aboki: Ah Ah! Na me do de purple one, that yollo one and de red one. Abi you no remember me? Dat last time, you come give me coke mek I drink, you say sun too hot.
Me: (still looking on in disbelief) No, I no remember.
Aboki: Ha! Na im be say Madam na very kind pesin. You even pray for me sef dat day, then give me coke on top!
Me: (preening a little) okay o! No wahala.


It's not much, but it got me thinking about all the other people we meet or work with everyday while we are busy living our lives. The little off-handed kindness I had shown to this man without even thinking could save my life! God forbid there's another Jihad, but it did cross my mind!
 I thought about the convo's I'd had in taxi's where I couldn't be bothered about who was or wasn't listening,or even the conversation's with the cabbie's( cos I have a knack for picking chatty ones), my favorite restaurants, the waiter's and waitresses there, even the market near my house with all the marketers there. What little things could they have picked up from that brief, almost meaningless interaction?
Sometimes, these so called "little" people have great power! You think I'm making a mountain out of a mole-hill, right? I might be, but I remember the girl who came to me looking for a job, she wanted to be a nanny, and when I asked her why she left her previous job, she said her Madam was so nice to her and her family, she loved her so much, and trusted her too. She had flown her out of the country twice! Something she never thought she'd get to do, but recently her Madam had to go away for surgery and she was left to take care of the house and Madam's hubby, but he started to make advances towards her, tried to grope her every chance he got, so she just thought it best to look for another job till Madam returned!
I also remember coming home late one Friday night after a party and chatting away endlessly to the cabbie, most of it was alcohol-induced, but we got along well. We exchanged phone numbers and I went to sleep as soon as I got in. He called me the next day to tell me that I'd forgotten my wallet in his cab, and asked if he could bring it over, and he actually did! No bills were missing, my Id cards and ATM's were intact!


Well, I wrote this long story to make two points really clear:
1. I am nice to the "little" people.
2. You should be too!

:( I am so sorry

It's been over a year since I did this. I couldn't even remember my sign-on! My dearest Sanguine-for-life was so disappointed that I didn't have my blog up and running, so here I am again!
I promise to really try harder this time! I promise to be that girl who listens in on conversations, then goes hmm and whips out her laptop (or Ipad AMEN!) and scribbles something down.
I promise to make this blog work.
I do.
And one day, when I am rich and famous, I'll come  back to this post and remember how it all began.

Mucho love