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life lessons

life lessons,

TEDx Talks

My friend from University Ayo ”Dudu” introduced me to Ted Talks, I was reading ”Half of A Yellow Sun” and he asked if I had listened to Chimamada Ngozi Adichie’s Ted Talks titled ”We should all be Feminist”, to which I replied ”what are Ted Talks?”. He played a video for me on his phone and introduced me to the beautiful world of Ted Talks.

I will be sharing with you a few of my best Ted Talks and I hope that they enlarge your view of the world, give you a new understanding of humanity and the power of individuality.

Let me know in the comments below your opinions on the videos and also recommendations on talks I should listen to.

life lessons,

8th June 2016

 The 8th of June 2012 stands out because you left without notice. We spoke two days before your death when you called to say you will be going to the hospital finally. I was shocked about the word finally and mama and I asked why the finally. We asked “are you going to die?”, to which you replied “all will be well”.  In retrospect I think you were shouting out to us to come because you were going. Grandpa you knew you were going!  There was a level of finality to our conversations that week and sometimes I wish I said more to you, I wish we planned to visit immediately you said the word FINALLY.
I went to watch ‘’Avengers’’ the Friday you died and for a while after your death I wondered what you would have said time and time again ‘’Ore you were watching Avengers while I was dying’’ maybe something less cynical and more comforting. I have learnt in the last four years that time doesn’t stop because you are in pain; time doesn’t go back so you can say a proper goodbye. You just put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.
Grandpa you introduced me to writing, made me feel like I have a voice and something special to say to the world, but whenever I read over the tribute I wrote when you died I feel I let you down with the words I wrote. I wasn’t thinking straight at the time a part of me still believed I would walk into the room downstairs and see you seated at the table and writing in one of your many journals.
A year after your death, Mama, sister and I shared our memories of you. It was that day I accepted that I wasn’t going to walk into the room downstairs and see you writing. After this realization I wrote about you, Grandpa, where I imagined you to be and I shared with my mum and sister, I believe I am ready to share it with the world.
Rest Well Grandpa and you are welcomed to visit me in my dreams.
In the Clouds

I seat in the clouds 
Watch what goes on below
It feels good to watch all of them
Keep tabs would be the right word
I can’t leave them, we share bonds too deep
To let the cold hands of death rip through those bonds
Keeping tabs is so much easier from up here
I have 6 places to visit, located in three different continents
It is so easy for me to travel back and fort  
My weight is lighter than air,
The clouds in the rotating sky my means of transportation
I move the glass plate to the center of the dining table before it falls off the edge
Help my sons out at work, mostly with writing proposals and reports     
Listen in on the bed time stories of my grandchildren
I have time to zip back and plant a goodnight kiss on my wife’s fore head
As interesting as this sound, I can’t get a real hug anymore
None of them even know I am there
I have my honey and pap by myself 
No amount of honey can make this sweet
I wish I could be back
My wishes fall on deaf ears
With almost 365 days in this state I am happy to report this sucks
I need to wish my granddaughter happy birthday or rather make an appearance
Zip back tell my wife how the event went
Maybe I would drop in on my daughter
In my state the opportunities are endless.
    
life lessons,

Tales of a North Central Corper Part 2

Dear Readers, This is the concluding part of Tales of a North Central Corper Part 1 enjoy!!!! 
It was a windy Monday morning, the 1st of June 2015. I hadn’t gone to work for almost three weeks I was feeling guilty for neglecting my students, for not rendering my service to the nation but I wasn’t looking forward to going back to work. It felt monotonous, I didn’t feel like I was making any difference, my students seemed to remain at the same spot they were when I met them. When I looked at them, their head looked like hard coconuts with no water, those types that make the loudest noise.
But they are not all bad, they have this bright light in their eyes when you introduce something new, educate them about something they have never heard of, that light is gone once you are done speaking  and they go back to rapping Yoruba. I was no longer motivated to teach.
My fellow corps members were tired and had cut the number of days they came to work and the hours they spent on the days they showed up. So at 8:45am on the this ‘’wonderful’’ Monday morning I sat alone in front of the Vice Principal Special Duties – Mama Special’s office , to report for duty.
Because of the lack of teachers, Mama Special doubled as a Christian Religious Studies (CRS) teacher and she was in class when I arrived so I sat and waited for her on the rickety bench in front of her office. I watched students stroll in well into the first period and the only resident Math teacher laid down the law; he caned the late students. He was famous for making passes at every woman in sight. It made me wonder about how the human mind works and how complex it must be.      
I saw an old woman walking across the school field towards the Mama Special’s office, most of the field is sandy with patches of yellowing grass scattered around. The Math teacher stopped beating the late students and came to welcome the old woman.
She said her granddaughter went missing on Saturday and she came to ask for the school’s help in locating her. The math’s teacher immediately went into action, locating the girl’s class and her friends to question them on the whereabouts of the girl.
Mama Special joined the search party once her class was over. About an hour later, one of girls came forward with a story I had heard a number of times in the last few months and it still felt too good to be true.
‘’She dey her boyfriend house.’’ She whispered to the math’s teacher  
‘’Speak out.’’ The maths teacher shouted at her.
She went on to describe the house of the boyfriend, the regular advice followed;
‘’Mama it would pay you to involve the policemen’’ Mama Special said, she handed her a piece of paper with a phone number written on it.
The maths teacher followed the old woman, in the school bus which had busted windows with doors that didn’t close properly. In my short six months working at the school this was the 4th time something of this nature was happening and it broke my heart every time it happened.
It is compulsory for Corpers that belong to the HIV/AIDS Community development group to start a health club at their respective places of primary assignment so I got involved with the health club after the first incident. I was surprised that these students knew that the local pharmacy sold birth control pills and were well informed on other preventive measures.
The health club convener decided teaching abstinence was a waste of time, so we taught preventive measures, the advantages and disadvantages of the various measures.
After the first test I gave my students, I found out that many of my students couldn’t spell their names and couldn’t construct two sentences in English. I made a rule in all of my classes that English was the official language of communication.
I decided to pick students at random to read, a hand full of them could read smoothly, others fumbled on the big words and an alarming number couldn’t make meaning of the words written in their texts
The other corpers and I started a class to teach our students to read and write, we encouraged the students to attend, they were eager for the first two lessons and gradually none of them showed up for the meetings.
I found the zeal and energy I had on the first day gradually ebb away, I didn’t enjoy teaching anymore. I found myself counting down to the end of my NYSC year and dreaming of the things to come to get myself though the remaining days.

Looking back, I feel I let myself down, that I could have done much more if I encouraged myself, adjusted my expectations to fit my reality, kept going instead of mentally checking out but I find solace in the little that I did and keep looking for opportunities to change the world.

24, life lessons,

Ringing Words


This is not a poem, I gave up poetry a long time ago. This is a jungle of words playing in my head like monkeys swinging from tree to tree.
So I find myself accidentally falling again, how I get myself in these situations is beyond me, my emotions seem to be a separate entity from my brain, existing and doing what they please when it suits them.  
So it is safe to say it suits them to fall again.

Every smile, I register
Every accidental brush of the hand doesn’t go unnoticed
Every time our eyes meet, I never want to look away

Before you start smiling uncontrollably as you read this, it is not a love whatever you choose to call it and I am not in love
Or maybe I am.
We would have to ask my emotions what they have decided.

Easter was a miserable time,
I should have been celebrating the death and resurrection of Jesus
But I spent all my time looking at my phone hoping it would ring or I would get a text
And I died a little when I got a text from everyone but ‘’Deep Brown Eyes and Budding Mustache’’
By Easter Monday, I had shouted at my sister, wasn’t talking to my mum and watched football with my father.
I was ready to get back to work, who invented public holidays???
Some sick psycho determine to punish me with a lot of free time.

I was far too gone falling
I was in this place of uncertainty that I hate
A place where my happiness is wrapped in the well being of another
In pointless conversations
In holding hands
In stupid inside jokes and nicknames

I am going to override my emotions,
It isn’t even a body part.
My brain is much stronger I conclude.

To apologize, I drag my sister out for ice cream,
There is ‘’Deep Brown Eyes and Budding Mustache’’
Cozy with a girl, sharing a cup of ‘’coldstone’’
I drag my sister to another shop
Bribe her with another gift
She is trying on her dresses when I start to cry
We have agreed to blame stupid emotions

life lessons,

Tales of a North Central Corper Part 1

I couldn’t take my eyes off her drawn eyebrows, she must have shaved the last trace of hair off many years ago, from where I stood, it looked like she chose a semi liquid eye liner and made perfect semicircles where her eyebrows used to be.  I took my eyes off her eyebrows and concentrated on other parts of her appearance, she was dressed in ‘’iro’’ and ‘’buba’’ and had on matching head tie in gold and black. This made her look like a wedding guest instead of the vice principal special duties of the secondary school that was to be my home for the next one year.
I listened to her jump from Yoruba to English as she talked to me about the ‘’time book’’ I needed to sign on days I came to work, the ‘’pink card’’ that had a list of my classes and ‘’dress code’’ that was appropriate for work. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud at that point, I made a mental note to laugh about it later.
Finally she handed me a collection of WAEC past questions on Literature in English, a pile of photocopied poems with footnote analysis on the poems to teach SS1 to SS3 students’ literature. As I walked out of her office to the sitting area for NYSC teachers, I wondered about the texts for drama and the texts for prose and if she knew that the SS3 students’ syllabus is different for the SS1 and SS2 students’ syllabus.
On my way, a male teacher walked past me in ‘’buba’’ and ‘’sokoto’’, talking with rapt attention to a female teacher dressed in a long skirt, blouse and head tie to match, made out of Ankara and almost matching winter jackets. They were conversing in Yoruba and clearly painted on all the walls in green were the words ‘’Always speak in English’’.
I arrived at the makeshift office for NYSC teachers, I sat at one of the tables and gave the school another look. From where I sat it looked like a bunch of rectangle boxes around a field with yellowing patches of grass and two football goal posts; just the rusting iron frames, without the nets.
I didn’t pay any attention to the conversations going on around me; I tried to remember at which point I fell in love with Literature in English and why I choose to teach it.
****
‘’Why they keep giving us nasty fish stew and bread is beyond me’’ I complained to my friend as we prepared to attend Literature class. I had my ‘’Exam Focus in Literature’’ in one hand and tapped my head to make sure my pencil was tucked safely into my hair. We walked to the class next to ours because our teacher; a short skinny man whose clothes never fitted properly was already waiting. When he opened his mouth to speak all his other flaws disappeared and anyone listening was sucked into whatever he was saying immediately.
We were analysing a poem ‘’The Road Not Taken’’ by Robert Frost. My teacher recited the poem by heart, when he was finished he made us take turns in explaining how the poem made us feel and what lessons we were able to draw from the poem. Maybe it was because of the magic in his voice, we all had something to say; the poem took us all on personal journeys within the 40 minutes of the lesson.
*****
I yearned to give my students the same experience, help them fall in love with literature and appreciate words and the weight they carry.  
My eyes caught the first poem on the pile ‘’The Fence’’ by Lenrie Peters, I read though the poem and decided it was fit for my first lesson. I decided to give the students my best, study properly before each class and help them find an escape in words.
But this wasn’t what happened.