This topic right here, it is slyly the story of my life. I think a lot of people (especially black people) can relate to this. I have racked my brain for a starting point or a particular event that has brought about about such a lax attitude to punctuality and unfortunately I can’t think of one.
This post was inspired by this video I watched on YouTube. I’ve linked it below ⬇
So in no particular order, here are some of the things I hate about being late;
1. Having to prepare a credible argument/excuse for why you are late – this is figured out while still on the way to the destination. Excuses may range from oversleeping, to missing the bus, traffic on the way or another valid excuse.
2. Missing the beginning of the event – especially when it’s an event you have been looking forward to. For me this used to be the praise and worship part of the Sunday church service at my church at university. I LOVE praise and worship and hated missing it (obviously not enough though or I would have been earlier)
3. Sprinting/power walking to catch the train or other mode of transport to get to where you are trying to be – you give it your all to catch the said mode of transport, especially the train/bus that will help you scrap “on time”. If you miss it, there is no hope for even scraping on time.
4. Trying to cram the morning routine into 5/10 minutes – this tends to happen after oversleeping or when the alarm doesn’t go off. The morning routine which would normally take 30/45 minutes is crammed into 5/10 minutes. This is not an easy thing to do and involves aspects of the routine being omitted or being done on the way to the destination.
5. Feeling bad as you give yourself a telling off for being late AGAIN – you always scold yourself that it will not repeat itself again. Until the next time….
6. The knowing stares when you have to walk into an event late – especially when everyone else was on time. In these situations, it is advisable to perch QUIETLY at the back of the room to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
7. Having notoriety among friends for being repeatedly late
9. Feeling a great sense of achievement when you FINALLY get to a place early or on time – it is possible. Takes a lot of planning but it is definitely possible.
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
When this book was first released, it was surrounded by a lot of buzz and still is. I was curious about the life and story of Toke Makinwa so I decided to read the story. The book for the month of March 2017 is On Becoming by Toke Makinwa.
Credit to Amazon for this image
The book is a biography about Toke Makinwa’s life up to this point. She talks about her life experiences from childhood, the tragic loss of her parents and the breakdown of her very famous and public marriage. She uses her story to share key lessons on life and relationships in a candid way.
The Book’s Description
Toke never envisaged that she would be a successful media personality. She began her journey as a bubbly child but grew into a lonely teenager after the devastating loss of both her parents. For so long after, it seemed as though she would never find herself.
On Becoming is the real Toke Makinwa telling us what it is like to be one of the most talked about celebrities in Nigeria. She reveals the truth behind her 14-year relationship with the man she finally married. A marriage that ended
in an atrocious scandal that nearly brought her to her knees.
In the wake of the peaks and troughs that characterise Toke’s experiences, she now shares her struggle with blinding betrayal, finding forgiveness and drawing strength from her faith in God.
On Becoming is Toke’s journey through pain to victory.
It was interesting to get to know a bit about the person behind the name. Toke Makinwa is a private person so although she is a socialite, there isn’t that much we know about her apart from the information she has made available about herself. I found the parts she shared about her childhood and about her parent’s very open and honest.
I also appreciated her honesty in sharing the things she did about her marriage relationship because some of the things she shared are things that are very private and people would often want to remain that way.
I would have liked to know more about her career journey to success. As I touched on earlier, Toke Makinwa is someone that is private and only shares things about herself that she wishes to. I feel there would be a lot of useful knowledge to glean from her career story. Although she did touch on it very slightly when she talks about staying in London for some time, she doesn’t really explore this more.
At times, it felt it little like the story jumped from one topic to another, kind of losing us on the way there.
KEY LESSON (S)
- Do not ignore the red flags! While reading Toke’s story, it became clear there were behavioural patterns that were repeatedly displayed by Maje. It would have saved Toke a lot of heart ache had she have paid attention to the flags.
- Do unto others as you would have them do to you – from Toke’s account of her experience, it doesn’t appear as though Maje considered Toke’s feelings much. I am apprehensive to completely say that because there are always two sides to a story and we have not heard Maje’s side. It may completely flip the script.
- Love is powerful and very addictive – love clearly can make a person do things they wouldn’t have dreamt possible. Toke shares how she started using creams to lighten her skin to make her appeal more to her then spouse
- In the multitude of counsellors there is safety – Toke shares that a number of people warned her about her relationship with Maje and went as far as to say even his own sister warned her. There is definitely truth to the scripture in Proverbs 11:14.
MARKS OUT OF TEN – 6/10
Hope you enjoyed my review; do let me know if you read it yourself
Until next time
Memoirs of a Yoruba Girl
I wrote this short poem for the days we travel on public transport and there is the unrelenting commuter that insists on blocking everyone’s path. If you can relate, this one is for you. (Side note: “ode” in the context of this post is “a lyric poem, typically one in the form of an address to a particular subject, written in varied or irregular metre” and NOT ode in the Yoruba language, used as an insult 😅)
We all have somewhere to be
Please tell me why you are blocking me?
I understand you don’t know your way
However understand this is neither the time nor day
Members of staff are available to help
So please be kind enough to keep to the left
All I want today is a smooth journey
So I may arrive at my destination early
When you stand in the middle of the walking path you see
You block the flow of movement for everyone (including me)
So please be considerate of what you are doing
And keep to the left so we can all keep moving
Please believe I wrote this in about 5 minutes (I’m shocked too!)
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
Happy new year
Hope christmas and new years celebrations have been enjoyable and a fun time with family.
I am the biggest DIY advocate ever. In the era of YouTube and Google, what do you need a professional for? I have used YouTube for a number of things most especially related to hair. That includes styling, reviews, tutorials and a host of other things.
That was until I went for a professional hair consultation. I learnt so much in the few hours I was with the hair consultant I saw. Although she told me a number of things I already knew, because I saw her, she could actually look at my hair and assess it in a way I just couldn’t have done alone.
This I guess may not be applicable to everyone as some people are more hands on than others but we can’t be experts in everything. It’s impossible to be equally good at everything. The focus, time and practice it will take to be a pro in one particular area cannot be replicated for all other areas. It’s actually impossible 🙄. Why not then go to see someone who has the expertise in the area you are not so strong. Remember the saying “jack of all trades, master of none”. That being said I am still a DIY diehard, but I’m not afraid to ask for help.
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
I vividly remember around the time that Damilola Taylor passed away. I remember going to bed and laying on the top bunk of my bunk bed in the dark at about 10 years old and being able to not comprehend what had really happened. It was scary to think of someone so young dying that way. Damilola Taylor was born in 1989 and would have been only a little older than me.
Damilola Taylor was a few weeks shy of his 11th birthday when he was murdered in a completely unprovoked attack. Even till today, it is still heartbreaking to think about what he went through.
So I was understandably interested to watch the show and learn more about Damilola Taylor before he came over to the UK.
The programme was based on the true life events that facilitated Damilola Taylor’s coming to the U.K and the events that happened after his demise.
I loved that they were able to bring some joy out of what remains a sad situation and I appreciated they allowed us to get to know who Damilola actually was. He was a dreamer and had high hopes for his future. The actor that played Damilola, Sammy Kamara brought out his playful and childish side excellently because that was what he was, a child. He did an amazing job of bringing his character to life, I felt I was able to actually get to know who Damilola was a little better.
The actors chosen to play both Damilola and his family all did a great job of helping us to see a little into the Taylor family’s world, especially after loosing their son. I feel I was able to gain a bit more insight about them and the reasons they chose for bringing their family to the UK.
The most heart wrenching scene of the programme I felt was the phone call made by Damilola’s older brother Tunde to his father to break the news to him. The silence and the tears spoke great volumes. It was amazing acting on both parts and spoke of the great strength both of them had in the face of great grief.
I appreciated the programme didn’t paint the family to be angels but allowed us to get a realistic picture of who they really were and the very really struggles they would have gone through as a family trying to come to terms with loosing a loved one.
It is also great to know Damilola’s family decided to keep his legacy alive through the Damilola Taylor Community Centre. My prayer for the Taylor family is that God will heal their hearts and give them His peace.
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
Jollof Rice is hands down THE most popular West African rice dish for a number of reasons. It is a delicious tomato, bell pepper, onion and scotch bonnet based rice dish. It can be served with a number of equally delicous sides including chicken, fish, fried plantain. I think Jollof rice is always best washed down with a chilled bottle of supermalt.
West Africans will know well that the origins of jollof Rice is hotly debated, especially between Nigerians and Ghanaians.
Personally being of the Nigerian variety (Yoruba to be precise 😉) I think Nigerian Jollof is obviously the best. I’m sure
Jollof however is not an indigenous Nigerian name (at least not a Yoruba name) which would cause me to conclude it was not originally a Nigerian dish.
A little bit of research on the name Jollof reveals it is related to The Wolof people who are an ethnic group in Senegal, The Gambia, and Mauritania. The term Wolof also refers to the Wolof language and to their states, cultures, and traditions. Older French publications frequently employ the spelling “Ouolof“; up to the 19th century, the spellings “Volof” and “Olof” are also encountered. In English, Wollof and Woloff are found, particularly in reference to the Gambian Wolof. (The spelling “Wollof” is closer to the native pronunciation of the name.) The spelling Jolof is often used, but in particular reference to the Wolof empire and kingdom in central Senegal that existed from the 14th to the 19th centuries.
So Jollof rice does not indigenously belong to either Nigerians or Ghanaians but actually the Wolof people of Gambia or Senegal. We can conclude and agree that although Nigerians are not the originators of Jollof Rice, they are instrumental in the perfecting of the dish 😃.
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
I was kindly nominated for the “blog tag” by Natalie of PursueInspire http://pursueinspire.wordpress.com/2014/07/30/blog-tag/
Are you named after someone? Not someone I personally know but I am named after Queen Esther in the bible.
When was the last time you cried? I can’t pinpoint exactly but maybe a week or two ago, watching the news on Israel and Palestine 😦
Do you have any children? Nope, no children yet.
If you were another person would you be a friend of yourself? Yes I think I would. I think I’m a good friend :-p
Do you have any guilty pleasures? I have a sugar addiction. I have been fighting to give up chocolate, it’s an ongoing battle.
Do you like handwriting? Yes, it can be quicker that starting up the laptop and handwriting has more character.
What’s your favourite cereal? I can’t really remember as I don’t really ever eat cereal. I like porridge and Belvita biscuits through I have now given them up 😦
What’s the first thing you notice about people? Their hair, the way they are dressed and their shoes.
What’s the colour of your eyes? Dark brown
Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings all the time. I like to feel happy, inspired and ready to conquer the world after watching a film
Favourite TV Show? There are a couple. Recently got into orange is the new black. I quite like new girl. Just started watching scandal and that is also looking rather good.
Winter or summer? Summer, sunshine and warmth over snow anytime (though I love snow)
Hugs or kisses? Hugs! 🙂
Special talent? I enjoy singing and I dabble in fiction writing and song writing.
Where were you born? East London, UK
Hobbies? Reading, shopping, listening to music and now the gym, LOL
Do you have any pets? Nope, had some goldfish when I was quite young but no pets after the goldfish died
Favourite movie(s)? That I can remember off the top of my head Coming to America, Madam Dearest (Nollywood Movie)
What colour is your car? The colour is pending, soon arriving, 🙂
What do you want to do when you grow up? I grown up and still growing up. I’m not totally decided to be honest, still giving it a good bit of thought
Ok, I nominate Trudy of Flash In Lites http://xflashinlitesx.blogspot.co.uk/
And I nominate Kehinde of Perfectly Imperfect https://justsoperfectlyimperfect.wordpress.com/tag/kehinde-adeogun/
Hey blog lovers
I’ve been away for a while, I do apologise for my abscence. As you may or may not know, I dabble in fiction writing from time to time. I was looking through emails I had written, looking for something completely different when I came across a story I started (this happens fairly often). The story is literally in the beginning stages , it doesnt even have a name! Its still in its embryo stages. I decided to come and share it here, just to give you some afternoon stimulation . Have a read, excuse any grammatical errors you may see and drop any feedback in the comment box below . Love as always
Chapter Three (of the nameless story)
The 1st time Wale hit me was on the way back from a mutual friend’s get together. It was a black and white boat party in some place in London near Trafalgar Square. I was soo excited as it was the first formal outing myself and Wale had attended together. Although Wale was a student, he was pretty well off. He drove all the way from his London University to pick me up and drove me back home though admittedly he had wanted me to stay over at his. Wale looked delicious. I had to literally stop myself from salivating. He wore a crisp pressed black tux, with a fresh haircut and a neatly trimmed goatee to match. I wore a dress I picked in a Next sale, which luckily looked a lot more expensive than it actually was.
The drive to the boat party was heaven. Wale wouldn’t stop complimenting me and kept making me laugh all the way there. When we got the party, I got hit on quite a few times, even with Wale on my arm. Wale made the grave mistake of going to get us both drinks from the bar. That was all this particular creep needed to come up to me and start talking to me. He was actually very friendly but rather cheeky. I tried my best to be polite. I did not plan to laugh at whatever joke he was cracking, but I couldn’t help myself. Wale walked up just as the creep dropped the million pound question “so, can I have your number?”. Luckily he quickly retreated when he saw the look on Wale’s face. I laughed it off but the laughter quickly died in my throat when I realised Wale was still pretty upset. “Wale, what’s up?”. “Why were you talking to the guy?” “He came to talk to me, actually. I was standing here where you left me”. My answer wasn’t sufficient for Wale. “Don’t embarrass me like that Ada, do you get it? When you are out with me behave with some decency”. That comment made me frown, my eyebrows shooting up instantly. “Are you being serious Wale? you need to just chill out ok? It’s not that serious”. I thought he had let it go and the incident didn’t cross my mind again for the rest of the evening.
When it finally came time to go home, we did our rounds of goodbyes to the celebrants’ and the other guest and walked towards Wale’s car. I was walking slightly ahead of wale, because I came off the boat 1st. The night was cool and the view off the edge of the water was really nice. Next thing I knew, Wale’s hand grabbed my arm swinging me around and then quickly landing a hot slap on the right cheek. The shock of the slap made me drop everything I was carrying, including a very expensive glass party favour. When the glassed smashed on the pavement, Wale quickly realised what he had done. He proceeded to cry, saying he was sorry and didn’t know what had come over him.
I think the slap cleared any sort of good reasoning from my head, I couldn’t form any words. I picked up the contents of my bag from the floor, quickly stuffed them into my clutch and started off towards Wale’s car, my feet thudding with each step. The drive back home was very silent and extremely awkward. I stared out of the window as Wale tried to make conversation. I ignored him and didn’t even look in his direction. When he realised his attempts at conversation were futile, he left me alone. As soon as we got up to my campus halls, I grabbed my things and jumped out of the car. I didn’t even look back once and Wale had the sense to not try and call me back. Luckily it was late so all my friends were asleep. I quickly unlocked my room dorm, locked it behind me. I dumped all my stuff on the floor and shed my dress in favour of my pyjamas. I removed all the make up and got into bed. I lay there for quite a while with the evening replaying in my mind. I wasn’t sure if I had done anything to warrant Wale slapping me. I knew it wasn’t right for him to hit me. My dad had never slapped my mum in all their marriage together. The last thing I remember was my pillow feeling damp from my tears that had soaked through.
Hey there again,
Thank you for stopping by today. My line of work means I work with mature adults about 60/70% of the time. In working with them, I have learnt some truly amazing things about life and have received some good pieces of advice which I will share with you.
Strange as it , as I hardly have conversations deeper than brushing the surface, I have really learnt some insightful things.
1. Love is BLIND – it warms my heart when couples who have been married for 30/40 or more years come to appointments together. It’s most likely these people don’t look exactly the same as when they first got together but they still love each other. It’s so nice to see that love can last for so long. Admittedly , it seems to get better. It can be very bittersweet when people may come in after a partner has passed on – it shows how fond they were of their partner and how strong the bond of love is.
2.Leave a legacy – a lot of these people have children who now take care of them, some of them help look after grandchildren, some go and visit but regardless, I’m sure if they are no longer around, they have left a permanent mark on the lives of the people around them.
3. Learn to appreciate the little things – the people that go out of their way to help you, people that go the extra mile for you, appreciate them. We receive many biscuits, chocolates, cakes and cards from people who just wanted to say thank you.
4. The number one thing I’m told at work is to “enjoy life while you are young” – this is so stark because these people have lived for a long time and are in a good place to tell me that. Who better to advise you on living life than someone who has been where you are.
5. Have children – this one is more something I have observed than have been told. Having children doesn’t necessarily mean biological kids alone (though they do count). It could be extended family, family friend, adopted child, or someone you mentor. I realise how much children (biological or not) are willing to do/give for their parents/parent figures.
6. Look after your health while you are young – this is another one I have seen more than been told. I have learnt the importance of looking after your health while you are young as it seems health has a cumulative effect, so good and/or bad things will build up over time.
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl