The State of Naiveté

I was planning a trip and a friend offered to drop me off at the train station but by the time we were ready to leave our houses, hers to pick me up, I had my doubts about meeting the train. So I did the most sensible thing and called her being more experienced than me. "T", I said, "are you sure we won't miss the train? There is another time slot I can take after all I haven't bought the ticket." Being inexperienced with the process, I was worried I would need time to buy one and still find my platform. "We will make it", she assured me, "I am leaving the house now, it won't take me long to get to you." I looked at my infant and the thought of waiting at the train station in the cold for another hour till the next train bothered me. I went downstairs.

True to her word, she had arrived quickly and on spying me, drove up. "T", I asked again, "do you really think we will make the time?" "We most certainly will not", she replied this time. I blinked back in shock at how sure she sounded. The reality of the long wait ahead and the cold dawned on me as I struggled to shake my disappointment. For a brief second I felt my anger. If I hadn't been convinced, I would have waited and then ridden the bus to the station for the next train. Why did she make me set out now if she knew I would miss this one? (She likely hoped I wouldn't  miss it but let's stick with how I felt at the time to get my point).

A day later, I had a light bulb moment where I realized my actions in that experience were a case study of times I have made decisions in the past by depending on other people to decide for me. The transaction brought into focus different times I had doubted my instinct because I trusted someone who I felt knew what was either the best or not the worst for me, to act in my best interests.

In the case above, I ignored my uneasiness and felt that because someone had more experience they knew better.  It then came to me as a surprise that even though she knew what I wanted was to get to the station on time to meet my train, what she wanted was to drop me off but on her own time to still be able to meet up with other commitments.

If I were less naive I would have seen that what I wanted was a ride but not at the cost of missing the train or keeping my baby in the cold or running up and down with heavy bags and a baby trying to get to ticket and platform and train in a hassle. What she wanted was to give me one but not at the cost of missing other commitments if she waited.

The lesson I have been missing that has made me fall victim to more harsh and costly transactions in the past is that underneath what everyone does for you is a motive they need for themselves to be able to do it. What they are giving you is based on their motive and while it may serve you it isn't because of your motive. And sometimes it will not serve you, and you will go back to them and say "this thing we did has caused this problem for me", but if they are the insensitive type, they will say "own your choice, don't blame me for it". Then you will be left to pick up the pieces because the consequences have become your problem, not theirs. And you will blame them for getting you into this tight corner. You may even feel they owe you after all you did what they wanted you to do. 

The shock for you who is experiencing the state of naiveté is that in your honest of hearts, you were truly convinced by them and depended on them to know and do what was best for you but the one who decides is the one whose interests are served. 

Now my friend isn't a selfish person at all, she was risking missing her commitments and left her babies and husband to help me. In fact you can look at it another way and say I was the compliant one who didn't share my true concerns and speak up about them.

And I have been compliant in those decisions I see in the past where I didn't speak up or if I did, I didn't stand up for my interests. In all of those scenarios including this one, it was me who knew what I needed and it should have been me who I entrusted to decide what was in my best interest rather than place that responsibility on people to do what only I could and should do.
  
When we got to the station, there was a third train leaving in twenty minutes to a different stop but en route mine. I had enough time to get tickets and survey my environment without keeping my baby too long in the cold.  

It all worked out in the end.

In a sense, it always can and it always does.

 

 

Letters to my child

www.omonaikee.blospot.com

To my child,

You are God's

Not just Christian as in religion but God's own as in identity.  You will know who you are in Christ and your place in him. You will know that you are called to know him, love him, understand him and be in relationship with him.

You will learn how to make a bed, greet your elders in your local dialects and all the things you will be taught in school but you will also learn how to pray, what the bible means for you and where to turn to when life happens. We did at your dedication and still do solemnly swear that you will through our example and teachings.

This is what you will inherit from us. Not lands or houses, silver or gold, traditions or chiefdoms, loyalties or name but the one thing that can never fail, never let you down, never forsake you- Christ.

You are Ebira- Yoruba

Having an Ebira father and Yoruba mother (your daddy married a  Yoruba wife, yay!) gives you a blended culture and we hope you embrace the good aspects of both worlds. You have names from both cultures which reflect the hopes of both sides of your family for you. They are good hopes that follow you, hopes you should carry proudly each time you tell people your names- Hello, my names are: I belong to God- I am a conveyor of good tidings - I have the God-kind of life - Jesus Loves Me- I am the mother of good tidings.

You will speak both Yoruba and Ebira with our blessing and collective support. Your parents marriage may be inter-tribal but our home is not divided along tribal lines. In accepting the Yoruba and Ebira in you, we accept each other and it will be to the credit of our ethnically diverse marriage, if we can expand and enrich your Nigerian identity by teaching you to be  multi-cultural and multi- lingual. Perhaps, we will add Hausa to the mix. It is what we learnt growing up in the North- the plot of our beginnings, a part of our history, a place where we came from. Perhaps, we will add Chinese. It is where the world is going to, it may give you some advantage.

We owe it to you to help you see each one as a part of your identity without feeling you have to choose or that in being one you are not being the other. You are both. Your identity is not one narrative, in one tongue delivered to you through one family line. It comes in many tastes and flavors, proverbs and songs, in coats of many colors and quotes of poignant sayings, bequeathed to you through your combined family tree. Your family is large, it is made up of  not one or even two but several families spanning generations that unite in you- their shared future.

While you are larger than the sum of us, what you are not is one half of us.

You are woman

You will learn that women are human beings not their sex and they have feelings not inbuilt codes and imprinted scripts. That tradition and religion should not be used selectively and directly to set rules for you that will conveniently change if you were born a boy. That the words "feminist" and "woman activist" exist because of the words "gender inequality" and "sexism". That when men do things that are wrong, it is not excusable because of their gender. And when women want things that they want, it is not deniable because of their gender.

That roles at home and jobs at work don't have to be about gender but about interest, about what you are best at and about what you can contribute to the team. That you don't have to do (or not do) anything because you are a girl but because it is what you want and what is best for you.

That you will not be raised in a household where your brothers can change the channel while you are watching TV because they want to watch football as if football or being boys makes that impoliteness acceptable. But one where all the individuals who use the house maintain it because they are responsible  to take care of the things they have been blessed with and domestication is not the prerogative of one gender but a useful life skill beneficial to both.

That you are not defined as one gender because you are dressed in pink or transgender because you play with "boy" toys or can be as rough or tough as them. That not wearing make up should you chose not to has nothing to do with "being" natural. What is unnatural is men deciding for women what beauty should be to and for them. Steal the rainbow and wear a dash of color, borrow from nature and splash on some cologne, emulate your creator and create expression through your hair or fashion pieces. Whatever your taste, express it, being you is natural.

That when you become a wife, it is not at the price of renouncing your identity or replacing your culture, beliefs, values, reasonings and choices with your husband's reasons why his are superior. That you do not suddenly become a child who is talked at rather than talked to, who has to take permission from "Oga", or worse be "disciplined" like a child by him and who decisions should be made for. That your input will be sought before decisions are concluded and that where it is your area, you too can be the decision maker. That it would not be your husband's house but your home together and there would not be one set of rules that apply to you in "his" house but rules and values that regulate your household.  

That when you are buying a house or negotiating with men, being married or bringing your husband or male colleagues to speak to "the men" for you will not be a requirement because they cannot deal with you- " a common woman". That your marital status would not be the measure by which you are accorded respect by the society and your maternal status or the gender of your children the measure by which you are accepted by family.

You are "The you are that you are"

You are not one yet but you have your likes and dislikes, your ways that are different from ours. We will let you be you and treat you as an individual.

We will be careful not to teach you that sex before marriage is bad or revealing clothes make you "Jezebel" or "a bad girl" but we will tell you why it is not the best of several options and teach you that choices have consequences. We will not ask you to listen to us because we are your parents, we will accommodate your questions and work through your doubts till you reach your own convictions and where they differ from ours within good reason, it will not be because we are not able to control you that we would withhold our blessing.

I have been in that place where what I want you to do and what you want to do conflict and I have questioned if what I want you to do is what is needed or what is simply convenient and pleasurable to me. I have a feeling this will have to happen more times than I will be able to count or remember. It will not be easy but I have plenty of help in your wise and objective father and we look forward to a life time of getting to know you.


                                                                                                                             Simply,
                                                                                                                             Mum.

Stay in the fight

It's not a boy

We didn't know the sex of the baby for the longest time and it was becoming a source of debate. I remember insisting that I was carrying a boy. I was sure because of my so called "mother instinct". It's laughable now but I really believed that I who was carrying my thing knew what I was carrying lol!

Fast forward to the third trimester when we decided to find out and went for a scan. The nurse said she thought it was a girl but didn't a hundred percent confirm as can be the practice with medical personnel who don't want to get sued or quoted verbatim when things don't turn out as they initially said.

But that innuendo was lost on me because I was my baby's mama and mama knows best. As we left the hospital that day, I started to ask myself why I was so hung up on my own conclusions that even the standard proof of a scan was in doubt.

As I sat and peeled back layers of reservation, I was quite surprised to find at the bottom of it, not only the desire to be right but the realization that I just naturally expected a boy like a child expects a gift from Santa if they had been good and for all the wrong reasons the Nigerian society emphasizes the gender of a baby.

I couldn't believe this was me!

Especially because I would not take myself for a traditional "old school" Nigerian and I would have thought that those sentiments were so far removed from my values and beliefs.

I mean, I have broken the mold a few times and would describe myself as not only properly educated, sufficiently exposed, culturally evolved, and rationally thinking but emotionally intelligent in that type of way that questions the subtle ways in which society favors or absolves the male gender over the other.

But here it was happening as second nature as people asking the question "Was it a boy?" without thinking, when enquiring about a mother who just put to bed. In those situations, even when the question is "What did she have, boy or girl?", the expectation hangs over the silence between asking and answering that "boy" is the expected response to the pregnant question.

So I took myself aside and asked where this was coming from and dealt with it.

As I think on this experience now, it reminds me of all the other societal expectations we have internalized and become conditioned to accept as measures of if we have succeeded and deserve celebration and measures by which approval is doled out or withheld.

The unspoken rules that become audible in debates like if a woman who has had CS has failed by not having her baby naturally or if a woman who opted for pain relief failed for not bearing the unbearable pain of long hours of labor.

The worst part is not so much these "rules" that make us unkind to and hard on ourselves, it is that we actually get tripped over by them and feel guilty, and responsible, and wrong and imperfect when we come up short.

And maybe it is a good thing, this bad feeling of being a disappointment in some way, because that is really the decisive moment where we can rewrite the script, change the channel and set ourselves free.

By the time Angelface made her arrival, I was ready, not only for my beautiful gift of a girl but freed to show her that she is enough and does not need to do a single thing more to deserve her place.


P.S

Never again! I will be finding out right away what the sex of my future babies are.

A crisis of faith

 

2014 and 2015 were by far the toughest years of my life. I was the sickest I have ever known myself to be, for the longest I have ever been BUT I came out of it- out of all of it- the turbulent trials, the physical weakness and sickness, the circumstances that threatened to wash away my dreams and sweep me away with them. 

While the storms raged I hoped and lost hope that God would step in, only to find and then lose hope again. It was only in my surviving that I felt assured of his long- intended intervention. Only when I was washed ashore that I realized that the make-shift floats and drift wood that buoyed me across were evidence of His teasing and testing presence. While He did not guarantee me life, health or the disappearance of trouble, by his reappearing presence He did not fail.

In this most frightening experience of my life I saw a side of God I hadn't known. The All or Nothing God who before all is said and done asks those who purport to follow Him if they will follow though He slays them; if they will still refuse to bow to the pressure of the day if He does not save them from the heat; if they will still offer a sacrifice if that sacrifice is all they have; if they will still say “Thy will be done” when they realize the cup of suffering is not going to pass over them in exchange for their obedience.

Ultimately everyone comes to that junction where they grapple with a God who lets bad things happen in the world and to them. It is in precisely this type of crisis of faith where we struggle to anchor ourselves in God's goodness while bad things prevail, to not be moved by what we see, to believe even though we have not seen; that we can potentially ascend the heights of faith from which we see God with better clarity. 

But if our Christianity has not passed the realm of argument over tying headscarves (apparently so as not to block the angels) or not, wearing trousers/make-up/weaves or not, listening to “secular” or gospel songs and other religious efforts to look and act the part; if it has not become an inwardly directed struggle to appropriate the power of the cross but is still a grasp for the external symbol of it; then while it may well have began, it is not well on its way to maturity and it may not survive. 

Until we become aware of the deeper and more important conflicts to forgive, to fear not, to trust God, to discipline errant thoughts, to tolerate differences in people, to overcome warring appetites and to spiritually labor to become like Christ, then we will be professing an inferior and powerless faith and living in the lifeless shadow of the Christian Journey of which Christ was a fore runner and example for our sakes.

Soon enough our faith will get tested to breaking point and crammed chapters and verses, text book prayers and chants, rituals and microwaved doctrines, and a contact list of prophets will not suffice. Forced to the surface by crisis we will have to confront empty beliefs, eye service religion, one- eyed and one-legged rules which may bear a form of power and outwardly pass for wisdom but lack the actual power to save.

In calmer seas these rules serve the reality distortion fields we have been convinced into by the prophets we have paid, the preachers we have employed and the prayer warriors we have hired to tell us what we want to hear. They fit into our comfort zones where we lie passive walled in by the four corners of tradition, religion, high sounding doctrine and piety. But when the turbulence comes, it will show that externalism practiced with extremism and fallacies followed fanatically are not the same as spiritual convictions held deeply, reached laboriously and bought not at a price but at great cost.

 
When that day comes- that day when our theology is challenged by our reality- it is critical for us to submit those crooked and disjointed legs of our faith to God so that through our adversity and in our misfortune, He can bring them into joint with the other parts of it that he has been at work bringing to our attention and perfecting with our permission.

 

References

2 Tim. 3:5

Col. 2

Gal. 5

Stories that touch

When I hear women say "I stayed on taking this and that from so and so only for him to do this...", ' this' being another act of betrayal, it makes me wonder why we take it in the first place and assume the person mistreating us will be grateful we suffered in silence and so reward us with better behavior.

After one break up several years ago, I remember commenting to a friend that if I had known it would hurt as much as it did I wouldn't have been "a good girl" but would have done major damage. As I thought about it, smashing the window of his car appeared to be more of a good idea than taking the bad behavior displayed by both the ex and his family in the period the relationship disintegrated.

But the truth was I hadn't been a good girl because I accepted things as they were, I had been condoning them because I hoped my keeping quiet, my suffering in silence, my patience, my maturity, my being a good Christian, would make the other person change their mind or make God reward my "piety" and give me the outcome I wanted so that things would go back to the way they were.

So when I read stories of betrayal in the media these days, while I can relate, I let it serve this reminder - you shouldn't be taking anything now that you will regret taking later. And if you are, ask yourself why. And if it is because like my example you are aspiring to the good girl image of religion or culture or because you expect your "long suffering" to be rewarded with guilt driven affections or because you can leverage on a moral failure in the future or gain more ground in a one sided relationship then at least know what is driving your decision to continue to take poor treatment or stay in a bad situation and deal with it like I eventually had to.

But if it is because you are afraid of the alternative if you left or of the consequences of confrontation if you stayed then it is time to face the deeper problem- you might just not believe you deserve better enough to fight for it. The perpetrator knows this too and is counting on your fear of his anger, of what people will say, of how you will look, of being single, of not having his financial support or social status- those things that ensure that where you are concerned, his life remains as he wants- unchallenged and unchanged.

Sometime later when I had dealt with my hidden motives, I didn't feel the need to "do damage" because I could now see that it was really driven by the frustration of not getting my way not love. And rather than "take" bad behavior or in this case, not take any action for fear that I would not get that person back if I did, I used that experience in a positive way that  I found rewarding.

As women, we can only take those who are not treating us fairly or respectfully to task when we refuse to be held back by the fear of losing them or losing out in some way. If they are the real deal they will make changes rather than lose us or watch us lose ourselves and if they aren't we will turn out okay, but first we must be brave and insist on better not only because we are deserving, but because they are capable of treating us well and we will be doing them a disservice by expecting less.
 

Mama Ejima

So this is my first post of the year and I finally break the silence and get with the program of world domination *cue ominous music* dom dom dom...

Lol. Well happy new year since I didn't say it in January and nice to see you again since its been so long! There have been so many thoughts and topics in my head to write about that short of feeling overwhelmed, I am excited that I have that much content swirling around in my head. Goodness!


But lets start off with a bit of catching up!

I've had a baby since being away and will tell you a bit about being pregnant, going into labor and delivery.

Oddly enough, before I started to show I found I wasn't open to sharing my piece of good news and was very conscious of keeping it that way for as long as I could. This was not so much because of the paranoia of not telling about a pregnancy in order not to jinx it or be jinxed by supposed bad belle people (a very Nigerian thing I find) but it was because it was very personal and I didn't want to share this new, sometimes unglamorous (the sick part), life changing and exciting phase in my life just yet. I needed time to cradle the news to myself first and get used to it. And so it was that sometimes I fought knowing eyes, telling smiles and careless comments in a bid to keep the announcement on my terms.

This was not the only unexpected reaction to pregnancy I had, in fact I surprised myself a lot. For instance I was not the the picture taking, journal entering mum- to- be I thought I would be and did not like being the center of attention for being pregnant, especially when it was in some not so flattering way.

For instance, I was in the market one day doing a little shopping and quite like them, the naughty shop keepers were calling out and sometimes touching shoppers in an effort to get them into their shops. Now, I have been called "oyibo" for my light skin and typical names by those shop boys but I was taken back when one addressed me as "Mama Ejima". First it was unusual because "mama" would be for an older woman so I put it down to the guy trying to be creative but after passing a few more streets and hearing the same name I quickly realized it was because of my protruding belly. While I can have a laugh over it now I didn't find it funny and felt picked on at the pointed "jokes" that came my way during my pregnancy.

But there were good experiences too like when I found myself on a long queue at a bank and was just wishing for a world where there was provision for disabled and pregnant women to jump queues when the best example of telepathy I have ever experienced happened and the lady at the teller signaled for that pregnant woman on the queue to come forward. It was the one time being called "that pregnant woman" felt like winning the lottery! I would have objected to the disrespectful innuendo that tends to tinge that title at any other time.

Well being pregnant quickly went from new to normal and as I counted down to my due date, I became apprehensive again about the unknown- labour. I remember sharing this with a midwife who told me matter of factly that if I knew how to make a bowel movement then I knew how to have a baby. I was not convinced!

I had spent a little time selecting scripture to meditate on to combat some of my concerns and pray for my baby which really helped. I even wrote some mantras for coping with labour in cosmo but interestingly having been through it, I can share a few more as an added bonus to my readers on this blog.

The best tip I can give to anyone expecting is rather than pray that the cup of labor passes over you, surrender to it and let it have its way with you. I found that the more I thrashed around or spoke during the contractions the harder it was to cope with so I just braced up to it and let it take its toll knowing it wouldn't last. The most helpful thing was being reminded of this and Haruna was so good at counting down the seconds till I could expect the pain to subside.

This experience has become a metaphor for difficult moments. I find that knowing a difficulty or discomfort  or even an intense feeling is temporary helps me call on my powers of rational thinking or exercise my muscles of self restraint till it tides over. And when that moment of heightened suspense passes, I realize that even though it felt it would never end, never change or was soo important, it really did end, could change and wasn't that important.

I labored naturally on my own for 12 hours and although I had a birth plan for a natural birth without strong pain relief, I did ask for an epidural and now swear by that concoction of analgesic and anesthesia! Once administered I could sleep through contractions and preserve my strength through the hours dilating without food and the final push to birth baby. All in all, it was a wonderful experience; certainly the most physically painful but not all of the horror I expected. 

Something that does live up to its reputation is having a baby. I felt I knew who my baby was because we shared my body and I was her mother, but when she came out it was like meeting a new person. I blinked at her for a while and found her almost alien cry and suit of veneal strange. I needed to get to know her and came to accept that she had her own personality and I couldn't predict anything about this individual except what I knew by observation. She also appears to be getting to know me! I catch her observing me and chide myself for not realizing sooner that she had been seeing me and I haven't been seeing her back! lol!

Having a child has also added a shade of meaning to being God's child. I am ever alert for her cry with a watchful eye as God must be of mine and when she jerks from sleep I remind her that she is safe in my hands and question her fear when I am so near. And sometimes she cries because she can't see or feel me but I am there in the room with her and although she screams because she tastes something new in the medicine, I don't take her out of her misery because it is for her good. While she spends a good deal of her sleeping and sometimes waking hours oblivious of me, I spend mine with her on my mind.

I take notice of the gradual changes in the sounds she makes, from staccato shrieks and grunts of discontent to cries that peak and fall and last as long as any chart topping hook. Hearing all and seeing all, I applaud her increased vocal range from which she produces coos, gurgles, and yelps of delight to go with her developing facial expressions and gesticulations. I celebrate her going longer minutes of playtime without crying and longer hours of sleeptime without waking. Her loud, smelly farts and explosive poops elicit the right mix of surprise for being "adult loud" and cheers for having overcome trapped gas. I'd like to think that the way I delight in every detail of her life is an incline into the way God delights in the details of mine and the way I enjoy my child is a glimpse into his thoughts and affections towards me.

I am also learning from her. When she sleeps she lets loose and her face is the definition of peaceful sleep and when she wakes, she takes long stretches, extending limb after limb while letting out sounds of satisfaction through the stretch. So I try to learn how to sleep and stretch from her. Observing how uninhibited babies are, how unaffected they are by graces and airs, farting with abandon and being themselves without apology; it makes me wonder how a person can go from being a baby without so much as a care in the world to being an adult and disliking some part of their body or believing that they are less than adequate in some way! Oh well.

While I have not been blogging myself, I have been reading some of my favorite bloggers every day and had to banish myself from blog hopping today until I wrote a post of my own and I am quite satisfied by the results.

Till my next post (hopefully sooner rather than later), keep your happiness, hold your peace and count your blessings- don't give them to anyone for any reason!