THE BUSH FLOWER

 

I was thinking this morning.... It was 20 years last Friday since my second missionary journey to Bonny National Grammar School (BNGS) on Bonny Island. As I paused to give thanks that Friday morning, my thoughts drifted to 1991, when I was first posted to BNGS for my NYSC primary assignment. I had prayed and lobbied to be posted to any of the oil companies in Port-Harcourt, but God had other plans for me. With fear and tears, I entered the local boat, which was then called 'See me, see water,' en route to Bonny Island.

It was the first time I was to live in a remote riverine community. I was accommodated within the school premises and assigned to teach biology. After overcoming my initial self-pity, I embraced my reality and made up my mind to make the most of the situation. With the support of fellow teachers like Mr Johnson and Mr Sokari, BNGS became my second home.

Within a few weeks, my high energy and effervescent nature had seeped through my teaching like gravy on hot rib eye steak. I inspired the love of education in so many students and prepared them for schools debates. I remember blowing their minds with the 'This is the beginning of the end and there can be no end if the begining has not ended,' as well as the 'Warsaw never saw war until Warsaw saw war' quotes.

The nine months I spent on Bonny Island between 1991 and 1992 became one of the most fortuitous periods of my life. When it was time to leave, I declared, during my sendforth, that I would be coming back, after my M.Sc, to work with the multinational company that was about to be constructed. July 19, 2004 (20 years ago, last Friday), I walked into BNGS in fulfilment of that prophecy.

As I reflected on how I gave my best in that remote location, I recalled the fact that flowers blossom in a forest even when there is no one to admire their beauty. The truth is, you can't make a real success out of your life if you are unhappy with yourself. Wherever you find yourself today, give your all and blossom. I can never know what would've become of me, if I had rejected my posting to Bonny island. Embrace your reality. God is taking you somewhere. Isaiah 28:29 (GNT) says 'The plans God makes are wise, and they always succeed.'

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE MIDNIGHT JUJU

 

I was thinking this morning.... Sometime in the eighties, we lived in a 4-flats building with the landlord, in Gbiaye Street, in the Marine Quarters area of Warri. One day, the landlord had sent for my dad and complained that he had been having a problem sleeping at night because of a strange noise. He posited that it seemed someone in one of the flats had juju that came out at midnight, making this ka-ka-ka-ka sound that kept him awake. The landlord and my dad's bedrooms were separated by just a wall.

Despite assurances from my dad that there was nothing of such, the landlord sent his grown sons on a search mission to uncover the juju disturbing them at midnight. They turned my dad's room upside down but found nothing. Then they moved to the two flats downstairs and did the same, but no luck.

Though angered by their ridiculous accusation, we decided to pay attention that night to help unravel the mystery. 'You know say e no dey tay before dem dey catch winch for Warri.' We waited as everyone went to bed. Decibel by decibel, the surrounding noise went down. As the noise finally died after midnight, we listened intently, waiting to hear the steps of the juju. 'Listen. I can hear it now,' one of us said. We inclined our ears and could hear the ka-ka-ka-ka sound. We followed the sound into my dad's room again. We froze and listened. It seems to be coming from above us. We looked up and almost died of shock by what we discovered. We finally caught the juju. It was my dad's old ceiling fan.

Apparently, the ceiling fan, due to wear and tear, makes this tick-tock sound when on low oscillation. It does so all day, but no one hears it because of the noise all around. It seemed louder from midnight when everywhere was dead quiet.

Don't be too quick to jump to a conclusion. Too many Africans are fighting imaginary devils because of their ignorance. Many are too lazy to investigate or do a deep dive. If only they can quiet the noise of their prejudices. Like they say, everyone's mountain is their ignorance. Invest in developing your mind because it is a thought factory. It produces based on the raw material you feed it. If you put in garbage, you get garbage. Proverbs 4:23 says "Keep your heart will all diligence; For out of it are the issues of life."

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

LOOKING FORWARD TO 7.30PM

 

I was thinking this morning.... My flight landed in Lagos right on schedule, at about 3.30 pm. The vehicle was on hand to pick me up. We immediately set out ahead of rush hour traffic. As we exited the Third Mainland Bridge at about 4.30 pm, we ran into the rush hour traffic at Victoria Island. Oh no, I exclaimed quietly in my soliloquy. One will think I was rushing to meet a business appointment. It wasn't that. Why exactly was I bothered about an hour or so of delay, since I wasn't driving? A deep search exposed what was driving my anxious expectation. I was in a hurry to get home before 7.30 pm.

What exactly was happening at 7.30 pm? No, I wasn't expecting a VIP at home. I was rushing to watch Tinsel on DSTV. Wow! How is it possible that I have become hooked on this soap opera on TV? I did a mental playback and discovered to my chagrin that for 16 years, I have been looking forward to 7.30 pm each week day.

Tinsel is a Nigerian soap opera that began airing on DSTV in August 2008 and is currently in its 17th season. There were times when the plots in the series were really interesting and understandably held me spellbound. But there were many times the storyline was drab and made no sense, yet I still looked forward to 7.30pm. As I imagined how from one day to a week and then one month of watching Tinsel has grown to 16 years, it gave me a fresh understanding of how Smokie, in its 1972 hit song, could live next door to Alice for 24 years without telling her how he feels.

Whenever I wasn't physically on the ground to meet my 7.30 pm appointment, like when I was out of the country, my decoder was always there to record every episode. Apart from my walk with God, which has been since 1994 (30 years), I am not sure of any other daily or weekly activity I have been committed to for an unbroken 16 years. It is difficult for me to understand how I can be committed to a TV program for 16 years. For the 30 mins each week day means I have cumulatively spent 87 days of my life watching just Tinsel.

Be careful what you give your time to. Just one video game or one episode of Telemundo, before you know, it has become an addiction. Don't watch another porn video, else you get hooked. Time is one of your most valuable resources. How effectively you are spending your time is a reflection of how your life will be. Redeem your time because the days are evil (Eph 5:15).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

EVERYWHERE STEW

 

I was thinking this morning..... as the first half of the year ends today, I reflect on a number of recent incidents. Tomato, the edible berry of the plant Solanum lycopersicum, has, from time immemorial, been an indispensable ingredient in making our Nigerian stew. It is also a basic ingredient in a large variety of raw, cooked, or processed foods, including our signature Nigerian jollof rice.

In recent weeks, however, tomatoes have become like gold. Scarce, expensive and out of the reach of ordinary citizens. In order to keep enjoying our traditional rice and stew, Nigerians have creatively resorted to cucumber and watermelon stews. The truth be told, without fresh tomatoes, stew no fit be stew.

'Everywhere Stew' is a deliciously inane Nigeria phrase that means something that is masterfully prepared and high quality. For lovers and fans of Nigerian music star, David Adedeji Adeleke, popularly known as Davido, you will no doubt agree that his June 25th glamorous wedding tagged Chivido'24 cannot be more succinctly described than to say 'Everywhere Stew.' There is only one thing that made it happen. Tomatoes were not in short supply. Without tomatoes, everywhere can not stew.

Ironically and sadly, on the same day everywhere was stewing at Harbour Point in VI, Lagos, just a stone throw away, 45 year old Nick Imudia, the former chief executive officer of Konga and CEO of D.light, a leading innovator in residential solar energy solutions, was tired of life and decided to end it by jumping from his residential storey building at Lekki. Nick had all the money to buy tomatoes, but he couldn't make everywhere stew.

Just like stew without fresh tomatoes is putty, living without the tomatoes of life is torture. While some may rely on money to buy the tomatoes for their stew, others simply just sow the tomatoes they need. Self-love, peace, and a renewed mind are the tomatoes of the stew of life. Cultivate the tomatoes of life and then you will be sure everywhere will be stew around you. No wonder Romans 12:2 says, 'And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.'

My prayer for you is that as we get into the second half of this year, everywhere will be stew around you. You will not lack physical tomatoes nor the tomatoes of life.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

GOD, I NEED YOUR FEVER

 

I was thinking this morning..... I, again, remember my childhood days in Warri. While my most fond memories are those of fun playing games with sardine keys, rubber seeds, and bottle caps (table soccer), there were sour memories that I would rather not remember. One of such were times I came down with a fever. To me, coming down with a fever was triple jeopardy. You suffer from high temperature and body pain and then contend with the very bitter taste of chloroquin. Finally, there is the torture from the body itch as side effects of the chloroquin. Argrrrr! Merely thinking of being feverish in those days gives me the creeps.

Though that feeling had slowly bleached out like a coloured cloth in the desert sun, I still don't like the thought of having a fever. Hence, my surprise at seeing an inscription on a motor bike saying, 'God, I need your fever.' Really? Does God have a fever He gives to people? Thinking deeply about it, I realised it was a challenge of grammar. What the writer had in mind was 'God, I need your favour.'

I am not sure if excessive favour can lead to fever, but I know that no one prays for fever. It is, however, possible to receive a fever instead of a favour if your endeavour is laced with terror. For instance, when you scam people during the week and go to church on Sunday, lift up unholy hands and then pray for favour. No. No. No. Instead of favour, you will receive a fever.

Yesterday, I attended the wedding ceremony of my colleague in Warri. As the couple posed for photographs, I could feel the chemistry between them and confident they both would enjoy favour. If you are lucky to have a God-fearing and responsible spouse, you will have favour. God help you if you land a 'soyoyo.' Fever shall be your portion.

Proverbs 18:22 says, "Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the LORD." There are many praying for favour but receiving fever. My prayer for you is that instead of fever, you shall receive favour. God no go shame us.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

WHERE ARE THE FATHERS?

 

I was thinking this morning.... We grew up in the Ogboru neighbourhood of Warri. An area where vices were prevalent. As young boys, we were highly impressionable and easily influenced by the grown-up jagudas and bomas. It was at this crucial phase of my life that my dad gathered us one evening and said 'Study hard and come top of your class (First to Third) and you will get a packet of Cabin biscuits and a tin of Corned Beef.' That challenge set my feet on the right pedestal, unlike so many other boys who were positively challenged.

I was reflecting on this experience when I received a call from a scammer. The second in one week. While a number of young people are profiting from the 'Attention Industry' known as Social media, the majority are wasting their lives away. Young men are perfecting scamming techniques while girls are shamelessly exposing their flesh to the world or engaged in electronic hook-up. Yet, statistics say there are 1.5 billion fathers in the world. Really?

Walk to the streets, and you will be shocked by how gangs, drugs, immorality, and sports betting have imprisoned the destinies of the youths. Yet, statistics say there are 1.5 billion fathers. Abeg, where are the fathers? Visit the home of an average street child, and you will see a single mother struggling to care for her children or an emotionally absent father. Yet, statistics say there are 1.5 billion fathers. Abegi!

A father is a shining light and a beacon to his children, steering them to becoming morally, spiritually, and emotionally stable adults. There might be 1.5 billion men that have impregnated women, but definitely not 1.5 billion fathers. You hear so much about social media influencers, but people forget that the most important influencer in the family is the man. If he successfully influences the children to greatness, then he is a father, otherwise, he is just a man.

As we celebrate another Fathers Day, I challenge all men to reflect on whether they are true fathers. An emotionally absent father is as bad a case as a physically absent one. Proverbs 23:24 says, "The father of a righteous son will rejoice greatly, and one who fathers a wise son will delight in him." Don’t withhold your love, affection and approval from your children. Be a true father.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Fathers Day!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

PARABLE OF THE 24 PATELS

I was thinking this morning.... It was a joyous occasion of the graduation of a member of my kin. The faculty had just a few Africans, amongst other nationals. As we sat eagerly listening to the roll call by the Ceremonial Marshall, one after the other, the proud graduands walked across the stage to receive their degrees from the University Chancellor.

It was a normal roll call until it got to M.Sc in Computer Science. The Marshall called out PATEL, Darshit Champakbhai, attracting pockets of applause from the hall. Next was PATEL, Dev Utkarsh. More applause followed and then PATEL, Devanshi Dineshbhai. At this point, I got curious at how a single family will have three persons obtain same degree from Computer Science at the same time. But then, I was dead wrong. The roll call of the PATELS had only just begun. It continued from one PATEL to another. At the last count, 24 graduands with surname PATEL had walked across the stage.

O boy! Na who be this PATEL sef? How can one family have 24 members graduate with M.Sc in Computer Science on same day from the same school? What are the odds? What does the PATELS know about Computer Science that the rest of us don't. But then, I was told none of the PATELS were related. The surname Patel is of Indian origin derived from the Gujarati word "pat" or "patlikh" and means "village chief" or "farmer." On that day, 24 village indians surnamed PATEL bagged M.Sc in Computer Science. The farmers and village chiefs had transformed into techies.

The unrelated 24 PATELS got me thinking. Don't let the circumstance of your birth determine the outcome of your life. You may have been born a farmer, but you can walk the stage of life and become a techie like the 24 PATELS. I have always said that the fact that apple and pine-apple have the same surname does not mean they belong to the same family. That we are all called Nigerians does not imply I belong to the same mould as most of the criminals we call leaders. Just like the 24 PATELS are different, I am a peculiar person (1st Peter 2:9). Dare to be different.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

WE HAIL O!

 

I was thinking this morning... It started as far back as 1987. I had just resumed as a fresh Warri boy at the university. Strolling around the hostel each evening was an opportunity to run into old friends and make new ones.

It was on one of those casual strolling that I ran into an old classmate from Hussey College, Warri. Unaware that he had also gained admission into Uniben and having not seen him in a while, it wasn't just a pleasant reunion. It was an epic one. My correct Warri friend made a show that had stuck with me for 37 years. On sighting me, he froze for a bit and shouted, 'Wemo.' Before I could call his name and shake or hug him, he started running and at the same time shouting 'Wemooooo.' As everyone turned, wondering what was going on, he r,eversed at a distance and started running back, this time pointing at me and shouting 'abeg, abeg make una help me hail this my guy ooo.' Such was the hailing of waffarians back then.

Many may have heard the word 'hail' but haven't taken the time to check out its definition. According to the Oxford English dictionary,  to 'Hail' means to acclaim enthusiastically as being a specified thing. It is not hailing, if the acclamation is not effusive. Observe typical waffarians greet and you will appreciate what hailing is.

This thought was what prompted my confusion when PBAT signed the bill to revert back to the old national anthem 'Nigeria, We Hail Thee.' I am so used to hailing in high spirits. I wanted to sing 'Nigeria, we hail thee', when I remembered we are a nation blessed with abundance of human and mineral resources but seems to struggle under the curse of bad leadership. My spirit dropped. Oh, Nigeria, how can I hail thee in low spirit.

I shrugged off the low spirit, determined to embark on my high energy hailing like I was used to in Warri. But then I saw a morally bankrupt society where politicians that stole billions pass a law that petty thieves be killed. Oh my dear Nigeria, how can I hail thee like a waffarian?

Like in Psalms 137:4, I was thinking 'How can I sing the Lord's song in a strange land?' But thank God for the next verse that says, 'I will never forget my nation.' Truly, Nigeria, I hail thee. In other words, hailings in waffi style.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE DAY MY BACK TURNED RED

I was thinking this morning..... It was a normal school day in 1987. I had lectures that morning and, as usual, had dressed up, packed my books in my school bag, and headed for the 500 Lecture Theatre. Don't get it wrong, my school bag was not any fanciful leather hand bag or backpack. It was a humble Marlboro cigarette brand plastic shopping bag. That was what we could afford at the time.

With weeks of handling, wear and tear had set in, and I didn't realise. After my first lecture on the said day, I swung my designer bag across my back to commence the short walk to my Hall 2 hostel. As I, along with tens of students, flowed along the earth road towards the hostels, someone tapped my shoulder and asked, 'why is your back red?' I was wearing a grey shirt, so I was naturally alarmed at the thought of my back being red. It wasn't until I turned the shirt around that I realised what had happened. The red dye from my precious red Marlboro plastic bag had bled onto my shirt. As every passing student took a glance at my red back in pity, my face flushed and turned red from the embarrassment.

Thinking about it today reminded me of a yoruba adage that says "when a leaf stays too long on a soap, it will also become a soap" meaning you are a direct result of your environment or what you expose yourself to. I had carried the plastic bag for too long, and the colour was transferred to my body.

Be careful with whom you spend most of your time because it won't be long before your back turns red. The unfortunate fact is that you might not realise your back is turning red until it is too late and everyone can see your shame. If you realise soon enough that there is a Marlboro bag (called a friend) that is bleeding negativity on you, don't wait to be told by outsiders. Drop that bag immediately.

Sadly, unlike in the past where you have to spend quality time with someone for their bad behaviour to rub off on you, nowadays, you only need to belong to a social media group with a few negative people, and your back and face will start turning red. Where you are used to isn't always where you belong. Identify your healthy place and stay there. Otherwise, leave before your back turns red. 2nd Corinthians 6:14.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

JUST A BOY

 

I was thinking this morning...... It was in 1987, and I just gained admission into the University of Benin. It was my first time leaving home to stay away from family. Everyone around me was big, and for some reason, I saw myself in that same frame. Imagine my shock when I stumbled on this photo last week. For the very first time, I saw myself for who I truly was. I was only 17 years old and just a boy.

I remember taking most of my first year lectures at the 500 Lecture Theater at Ugbowo campus. Every lecture day, before dawn, I was among the first students to get to the hall, not only because I wanted the best seat for myself but primarily because I wanted to reserve a seat for a fair complexion female classmate called L.E. Everyone wondered why I take the pains daily to reserve a seat for L.E because she was out of my league. I never really understood why myself. But looking at this photo, I now understand that I was just a boy.

My roommates were really huge (in the voice of Donald Trump). They will boss me around, oppress me, make me the butt of their jokes and downright disrespect me. I never understood why. On one occasion, I reacted and gave Tunde a stars generating slap. Despite escaping being pummelled, it couldn't force them to show me some respect. Thirty-seven years later, as I reflected on this photo and how small I was, compared to my classmates, I understood the origin of the disrespect. I was only a boy.

Though I was young and with a small frame, I saw myself from the lens of my mind's eyes. I was as big and mature as the people around me. I did not allow my age and size to make me feel less than those around me. I may have been a boy and seen as a boy, but academically, I was among the biggest in the class. What I lacked in brawn, I had in brain.

The challenges of life can sometimes be overwhelming, making you feel like a boy. Those around you might even compound the problem and like Saul to David in 1st Samuel 17:33 tell you 'You're only a boy.' Believe in yourself and face whatever Goliath is before you. With God on your side, you will look back like me after overcoming and say, 'Wow! How did I do this? I was just a boy.'

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

AFRICAN MOTHERS DAY

 

I was thinking this morning..... I have given up trying to understand the number of Mothers Day we celebrate each year. It's looking like we have one each quarter. I am not beefing mothers. They are special creatures of God.

I was barely eight years old when my mum got pregnant (again). As a child, knowing there was enough food at home, I couldn't understand why my mum would choose to eat small chunks of white chalk, called 'Eko.' I later found out that the Eko was Calabash chalk or baked clay, which some pregnant women eat as medicine, to suppress morning sickness, nausea, and vomiting. Our mothers had to eat clay because of us. Chai! I kowtow for African mothers.

Twenty-five years later, it was the turn of my young wife. She was in labour to deliver our first child. She has been taken to the Warri General hospital. The facilities were basic or maybe non-existent. Standing by the entrance of the delivery room and listening to the cries from labour pain and running around for extra blood, I almost fainted. I look back today at the sacrifices being made by mothers and could only doff my hat and kowtow for African mothers.

After childbirth, one grandmother will subject the new mother to hot water therapy, where they soak a piece of cloth in hot water and use it to massage the new mother’s belly. Chai! What about a Sitz bath? The new mother that gave birth vaginally will be made to squat over steaming water so that blood clots in her womb can come out so she can heal properly internally. Oh my God, what our mothers go through for us. I kowtow for African mothers.

I wish it ended there. The new mother will be given very spicy foods such as pepper soup to help to flush out unwanted blood clots in her body and help to boost breast milk production. Whether she likes akamu (Pap) or not, she must drink am. You will hear something like, 'You must finish this peppersoup or else you won't lie down.' Chai! I kowtow for African mothers.

African mothers are the epitome of strength and resilience, despite reliving Genesis 3:16 every time they give birth. In the UK, Sunday 10 March was chosen as Mothers Day while in the USA, Mothers Day is May 12, but considering the difficulties African mothers overcome daily, every day should be African Mother's Day.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Mothers Day!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

MY ASSISTANT NAMED LUCKY

I was thinking this morning.... Driving from Owo towards Akure was a huge billboard with the face of the Ondo State Governor, and a message 'Ondo is Lucky.' Really? The message held me captive for a few minutes, as I pondered on the meaning. Would it be regarded as luck that Governor Rotimi Akeredolu died and his deputy named Lucky took over? Or should we just take the statement on the face value that the state is lucky to have a man like Lucky Aiyedatiwa?

Seems like de javu. Exactly 14 years today (5th of May 2010), President Umaru Musa Yar'adua died in office, and his vice named Goodluck Jonathan took over the reins of power as president. Could it be a coincidence? I couldn't help but quickly scan my life just to be sure I had no assistant named Lucky or Goodluck. Would you blame me?

Back to the years, I went wondering once again. It was late 2003 when Shell placed an advert to fill up a vacant position. I applied and had to compete with a guy who occupied the position as a locum. I came tops at the interview, and he was second. He had to leave after I accepted the offer. Two months into my resumption, this guy walked into my office one morning, handed me a newspaper cutting, and said, 'See this advert here? I brought it so you can apply. I know you will get the job. Please apply, so you can leave this job for me to come in.' Long story cut short. I applied, got the job, and this guy took my position in Shell. Though his name was Martin, I am beginning to suspect his middle name might have been Lucky or Goodluck.

While the principals of Goodluck Jonathan and Lucky Aiyedatiwa had to die for them to sit on the throne, I was promoted for Martin to sit on his dream job. Someone might be thinking of changing his name to Lucky. Don't bother. I know of a guy named Lucky having the most difficult of fortunes.

Your past and even your present might have been the result of someone's misfortune or fortune, but your future is your choice and decision and not because you are named Lucky or Goodluck. Good names are powerful but not enough to give you success. Some persons are named Success, but their lives are filled with failures. The fact that Gabriel's last name is Jesus does not mean he must die for Arsenal FC to win the English Premier League. Name alone doesn't change anything, but looking up to God and taking steps does. Remember Matthew 7:21.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE MANGO FELL

 

I was thinking this morning.... Still on the 14-hour trip to Omu-Aran in Kwara state. Our vehicle had developed a brake problem just before Ikare junction, Owo, Ondo State, and we all came down to allow the driver to fix the problem. We felt a wee bit angry and disappointed with the driver for his rough driving. Having been on the road for over 8 hours, we wanted nothing but an uninterrupted ride to Omu-Aran.

The location we stopped, called Shagari by the locals, was remote with just a few houses. No shop or local stalls to buy water or snacks. We took shelter under two huge mango trees. Thankfully, there were two make shift benches under the trees to rest our tired bodies. While we sat, hungry and tired, praying for quick resolution of the problem, life's lessons dropped on me like fresh dew in a harmattan morning.

Where we sat, resigned to the fact that we would arrive Omu-Aran late in the night, I observed the locals walk slowly with no sense of urgency. It was like they had no trouble in life. The light cool breeze and quietness dispersed peace in a manner that reminded me of my NYSC days as a teacher in Bonny National Grammar School (BNGS) in 1992. The peace I enjoyed after school hours in the serene environment of the staff quarters is one I will cherish for life. At that moment, I saw the incident as a gift from God to relax and enjoy the moment.

I was happy with just enjoying the light, cool breeze in a serene environment, but it came with more. With every whoosh of the breeze, a ripe mango dropped from the tree. Within a short time, lovers of mango in our team were enjoying fresh mango snacks. It was nothing but sheer serendipity.

Life! Sometimes life gifts us blessings in the middle of a disappointment. Every event and anyone you meet in the journey of your life is part of your storybook or album. Embrace it and make the best of every situation. In the quiet and uneventful times of your life, be sensitive because there is a ripe mango about to fall for your enjoyment. Appreciate everything that will come your way. There is a blessing in it. Just look up, and you will see the ripe mango ready to drop. Hebrews 12:2.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

Seven States of Life

I was thinking this morning..... It was meant to be a simple journey from Port Harcourt to Omu-Aran in Kwara State, but it turned out to be the longest road trip I have ever embarked on. While Google Maps estimated the 550.9km trip to be about 10hrs 33mins, the journey took us 14hrs 30mins. A trip that was dotted with so many life lessons.

We set out at about 7.30 am in a convoy of two coaster buses and a security escort pick-up van. Friends that couldn't wait for us, set out in a solo 4-wheel pick-up van, and arrived a solid 4 hours before us. How fast one travels in life is dependent on the capacity of the vehicle. Some have taken time to develop themselves and upgraded to turbocharged engine while others are okay with their two cylinders engine. Their speed in life tells the story.

Life, though, is not all about speed. While the coaster buses in a convoy meant the trip was slower, the bond of friendship and fun of travelling in a group was more alluring. Sometimes in life, it may seem like you are moving too slow because you had chosen to go with friends and family, but the experience you have working and fellowshiping with people is one those riding alone will never enjoy.

As the adventure across seven States progressed from Rivers to Bayelsa, Delta, Edo, Ondo, Ekiti, and finally Kwara State, I observed that the quality of the highway determined the speed we maintained. In life, there are some travelling on the superhighway that was constructed by their parents and forebears, others had to construct their own highways. Yet, for some, there are no paved roads. They had to trudge along the dusty and rough earth roads of life. Tough life, you will say.

Somewhere around Owo, in Ondo State, our vehicle developed a fault, and we had to stop to fix the problem. Though we lost an hour, thirty minutes in the process, we soon got back on our way. In life, breakdowns from illness or accident can happen and set you back a few years. Don't despair. You will soon be on your way to your destination.

A journey we started before sunrise, crossing so many rivers, large and small, and going through roadblocks, continued after sunset into the night. We finally arrived at our hotel a few minutes before 10 pm. It was a long tortuous journey but we stayed the course and arrived safely. Despite the challenges of life, keep moving and stay focused on your destination (Hebrews 12:2).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

JUST ONE GET-TAA-WAY

 

I was thinking this morning.... With a bonus holiday given to us last Thursday, I decided to go out for an evening fitness walk. As I did, I observed young men and women hanging out just by my estate reminding me of my late teenage years.

It was the year 1988, and I had returned home for my end of semester break. Feeling like university big boys, my brothers and our friends would meet up to hang out in the neighbourhood every evening. Occasionally, we would challenge ourselves to approach and chat up with any young lady who caught our fancy. There were these two beautiful Igbo girls living adjacent to our compound. Their brother, a Yankee returnee, had a Lamborghini Pontiac, making the girls believe all young men in the neighbourhood were beneath them.

The few times the girls would come out to take a walk, we would observe them from a distance desiring to be their friend. We were generally good boys learning to fish is calm waters. Amongst us, I had the least courage and with near-zero interest in girls. One day, after much hyping and encouragement, I agreed to the prodding of the boys to approach the sisters. As I got close to them, with fear paralysing me, I said, 'Hello! Can I talk to you?' The younger of the girls looked at me and with a very stern tone and rich Igbo accent, she barked 'get-taa-way.'

I froze where I stood and didn't know what to do. My friends laughed out loud, worsening my predicament. That instant, it was like my brain switched to reset mode, and I learnt lessons I would never have learnt in the university. I learnt that there is a time and season for everything. Just one 'get-taa-way' made me realise that it was time to study and get a degree and not be interested in girls.

Sometimes, to make progress, we must unlearn certain things and remove clutters and distractions from our lives. We all need a 'get-taa-way' (a rebuke) to keep us focused. Just one embarrassing get-taa-way can save you a lifetime of regrets. If, like me, you've been stirred up to make the wrong move, one get-taa-way is all you need. Do not despise rebuke or chastisement, it could be what you need to reset your brain (Hebrews 12:5).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

CELEBRATE YOUR WINS

 

I was thinking this morning..... Following the pulsating Chelsea vs Manchester United 7 goal thriller last Thursday, I woke up Friday morning to see the trending headline 'Onana @70.' My initial thought was that the trolls are at it again. How can Onana be 70 years old? But then the short narrative beneath the headline says, 'no be birthday o, na the number of goals conceded this season.'

I felt sorry for the Cameroonian born goalkeeper of Manchester United, Andre Onana, who has continually been the butt of jokes from online trolls. Why do they always pick on Onana? Put differently, why do we always pick on the failures of others rather than their wins?

When in November of 2023, Onana helped Manchester United to achieve their 500th clean sheet, the most in Premier League history, Onana@500 did not trend. When he played his 40th match for the Red Devil  not too long ago, Onana@40 did not trend. Good news, they say, don't sell. Bad news does.

We should learn to celebrate our wins and not wait for others. If you are waiting for the world to celebrate you, they will not. If you have been driving for 10 years without a crash, celebrate Crash-free@10. If you're 40 and have never spent a night on the hospital bed, celebrate Grace@40.

I have also learnt to celebrate others. Same Friday that negative minds were trending Onana@70, our colleague and friend, Mazi Ikechukwu Okafor was celebrating his 60th birthday and bowing out of paid employment after 26 years of meritorious service. I would rather celebrate Mazi@60 than Onana@70.

Mazi Ikechukwu Okafor is an ardent supporter of Arsenal Football Club (a true gunner) and a football buff. Whether celebrating a victory or enduring a defeat, Mazi's love for Arsenal is unwavering. I would rather celebrate Mazi@60 than Onana@70.

Kind words do not cost much but can accomplish so much. Hence, rather than join trolls to trend Onana@70, please join me to celebrate Mazi@60. Mazi Ikechukwu Okafor, like Philippians 1:3 says 'I thank my God in all my remembrance of you. Congratulations and have a blessed retirement.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

WE OWN NOTHING

 

I was thinking this morning.... It was a long awaited wedding. We had prayed and waited for the Groom to tie the knot and it finally happened yesterday. Sitting as one of the officiating ministers, I eagerly awaited the moment the Groom will say I do and how his references to the Bride will automatically change to 'my wife' or 'mine.'

Wow! Life! But then, I imagined. According to the English dictionary, 'my or mine' is used to refer to a thing or things belonging to the speaker. I pondered again on the words of the martial vows '... to love and to cherish, till death us do part.' There it is. That there is a condition means the couple don't own each other forever, but have only secured companionship for as long as they live. Truly, in life, we own nothing.

It's easy to say 'I own 4 houses and 6 cars.' Really? Do you really own them in the true sense of the word? If you've ever obtained a Certificate of Occupancy (C of O) of any of your property, pick up the document and read it. You will notice the early paragraphs that read like (paraphrased) '..by virtue of the C of O act, ---- was granted a statutory right of occupancy over the parcel of land (hereinafter referred to as 'the property') for a term of 99 years commencing from ....' Notice that it was for 99 years and not forever. Why 99 years? You thought you paid fully for the land? Yes, you did but the truth is you had only leased the land and not own it. We own nothing.

If you buy a car, you have only paid for your transport for the period the car will last or as long as you are alive. Reach for your wallet and bring out any currency note. You think you own the money, right? Take a close look at the currency and notice the name of the owner. 'Central Bank of Nigeria' for naira and Federal Reserve Bank for US Dollar. We own nothing.

Ah!!! Of a truth, we own nothing. Whatever we think we own, is only for our benefit as long as we are alive. When it comes to material things, do well not to attach your life to it, neither should you be afraid of losing them. I have seen people have heart attack because they lost 'things.' If you really understand that we own anything (Luke 12:15), your anchor will be on God.

Christ died that we may have all things both in this life and in eternity.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Resurrection Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

DANCING ON THE WRONG STAGE

I was thinking this morning..... Last night, I attended the Granite jubilee (90th birthday) celebration of one of Nigeria's finest, a Super Permanent Secretary, Diplomat, Bureaucrat and former Minister of Petroleum, Chief Izoma Philip Asiodu. As I sat watching him converse with another of Nigeria's finest, Chief Emeka Anyaoku (91 years), another Diplomat and 3rd Secretary-General of Commonwealth of Nations, what I saw was an impactful generation on their way off the stage of life.

Packed in the Oduduwa Hall of Movenpick Hotel, Ikoyi, were numerous other notable octogenarians and nonagenarians and the achievers of yesteryears My young wife and I were blessed to be in the midst of these very successful seniors.

The tribute to Chief Asiodu was a long list of what he had achieved over the years. Strikingly, most of his major achievements were in the 1970s and 80s. As I reflected on what could possibly be the secret of his success, Chief Emeka Anyaoku stood up and saved me the hassle. He listed the attributes to be hard work, discipline, integrity, public spiritedness, and care for humanity and the environment. While many would've been tempted to ask how many of our leaders today had all these attributes, I was more focused on myself. How many of these attributes do I have? What will be said about me when I turn 90?

The generation of Philip Asiodu and Emeka Anyaoku had the stage in the 70s and 80s, and a few of them took concrete steps towards success. Today, the stage is ours. What are we doing with it? Rather than work, our youths are betting their future away and dancing azonto and shoki. Our political leaders, instead of showing integrity, are dancing skelewu and makossa. Many of our religious leaders, rather than show care for humanity, are dancing shaku shaku and alanta on the glorious stage.

Life is a stage. There is a time to dance and a time to take concrete steps towards success. Philip Asiodu and Emeka Anyaoku are dancing today because they worked when they had the stage. If all you do is dance etighi and zanku when you are supposed to work, the results will be clear at 90. Success is not random. You make it happen by taking steps of faith and diligence and not by dancing sekem or galala. May the Lord order our steps aright (Psalms 37:23).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

R.I.P MR IKONSHENSI

 

I was thinking this morning... I was born to know Mr Ikonshensi. He was a very friendly, noble and great man. Though he wasn't married and had no family, he was part of every family in the community. No one knew exactly where he was from or how old he was but he was well respected in the community. He was always there to help everyone resolve any conflict, either between two persons or between a man and the community. Whenever the Community leaders sat to decide the affairs of the community, Mr Ikonshensi will be there to guide them in favour of the people.

As time went by, people started being rude to Mr Ikonshensi. I didn't understand why but it seems they were jealous of his influence. When they did something wrong and Mr Ikonshensi intervenes, he will be ignored. When the elders gathered and Mr Ikonshensi walks in, he will be excused and told to sit outside until he was called in.

After months of enduring the disrespect, Mr Ikonshensi decided to no longer intervene in the affairs of the community. He stayed indoors most of the time. Many were happy with his decision saying that 'his know-know was too much.' Others that appreciated his value, did nothing when he was being disrespected.

Not many years after, Mr Ikonshensi departed the Community without anyone noticing. The few that noticed made no serious effort to appease him and bring him back to the community. The majority cared less and moved on with their lives. Five years became ten and then twenty, Mr Ikonshensi did not return. There were rumours that he had died but some were certain he had started a new life in a far away community.

It wasn't long before things started falling apart in the community. Greed and selfishness had taken hold of everyone. The elders cornered all the community land for themselves. Families were crumbling and no one could help because Mr Ikonshensi had long gone.

The account of Mr Ikonshensi is an allegory of how we lost our conscience in Nigeria. When I read the news of a village school collapsing on innocent children in Zamfara, a state where politicians recently spent billions to buy SUVs for themselves, and how the National Assembly padded the 2024 budget to the tune of N3.7 trillion, in a country where millions are starving, my heart cried 'Oh God, where is our conscience?' Please come back, Mr Ikonshensi.

Is your conscience alive, dull or seared with hot iron? (1st Timothy 4:2).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

WEALTHY WITH NOTHING

 

I was thinking this morning.... On my way to attending the burial ceremony of the father of a friend at Oviri-Olomu, a village in Delta State, I passed by several small settlements. I couldn't but notice how peaceful life was for the villagers. No noise or air pollution, nor stress, as their needs are basic. For a split second, I wondered whether city life was worth all the stress.

Good health and peace are the main determinants of wealth. Most people don't appreciate how wealthy they are. A man cannot be wealthy in sickness. It takes a healthy body, mind and soul to be wealthy. You are as rich as your health status. In the face of sickness, material possessions amount to nothing.

Wealth is only yours or of value to a man in great health. When a man gets sick, he loses a part of his wealth. Wealth and sickness are inversely proportional. The sicker one gets, the smaller your wealth.

Think about it. To a poor man with only N10,000, home and abroad, ordinary malaria can wipe out his wealth. To a civil servant with N3 million savings, the onset of Hepatitis B can take his wealth away because it cost over a million (about $1,000) a year to treat the illness. If a billionaire comes down with hemophilia B (a genetic bleeding disorder), his wealth may be eroded fast because Hemgenix (the most expensive medication in the world) cost about $3.5 million (N5.2 billion) for just one treatment.

It takes health to appreciate wealth. At the end of the sickness spectrum is death and when a man dies, the wealth is no longer his but someone else's. Herbert Wigwe was estimated to be worth $65.2 million (about N100 billion), while his wife, Chizoba, was estimated to be worth $1 million. With their unfortunate demise, no one will say Herbert is a wealthy man. The wealth is no longer his but now belongs to someone else.

No wonder Luke 12:15 says "one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.” Wealth is measured by a healthy body, mind and soul. If you are alive and healthy, be thankful, because you are a wealthy man, even if you have no money in your pocket. Adieu to the Wigwes.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

OUR GBOMO-GBOMO WORLD

I was thinking this morning.... Days ago, I had cause to travel by boat. As I dashed to the departure lounge, a lady stopped me by the entrance, requesting to talk to me. She said, "Please, can you help to check in one of my bags along with yours?' Without hesitation, I responded 'In present day Nigeria?' even as I walked away to board my boat.

It wasn't until we set sail that I had time to reflect on the encounter. I felt sad for the world we live in today. In the world I knew growing up, there was abundance of trust, but what do we have today? You can't assist anyone at the airport for fear of being framed for drugs.

Growing up as children in Warri, those days, we played under the moonlight. We played 'otori, ototo' which was local term for Hide and Seek. We would hide in our neighbours houses, backyards and even adjoining streets. There was no fear of being kidnapped. Even when we had 'gbomo-gbomo' (the local name for kidnappers), it was rare and almost like a myth parents used to instill fear in their children. We had security and communal life in abundance. Today, kidnappers and ritual killers have changed our world.

It's a scary world we live in today. For 24 years, three sons of Abia state reigned as governors. Umuahia and Aba were run down. Public infrastructures were non-existent. Less than a year after the current governor took over, the state has turned to a huge construction site. Someone asked why the other governors did not perform, I said they were political gbomo-gbomos.

Have you noticed how the banks charge you for everything? It's like they are not happy seeing money in your account. Chai! Economic gbomo-gbomos.

Many say the world today is a Gen-Z world where people care for no one but themselves, but to me, it is a gbomo-gbomo world. Too many people are looking for who to use or what to take from others rather than what to give. Acts 20:35 says 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' May God deliver us from all forms of gbomo-gbomo.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

What Is The Taste Of Your Truth?

 

I was thinking this morning..... Days ago, I walked into a heated conversation between two of my colleagues. I wasn't initially sure what the bone of contention was but as I listened to understand, one of them said 'I know you will not like what I am saying, because the truth is bitter.'

After calming both of them down, I left asking myself 'is the truth really bitter?' On the moral and ethical scale of life, Truth is good and Lie (Falsehood), bad. Just like Sweet is good and Bitter, bad. So, why would anyone infer that Truth is bitter? If we say truth is bitter, does it mean lie is sweet? What is the taste of lie, if truth is bitter? Who is giving Truth a bad name? So many questions running through my mind.

These questions kept popping in my head till yesterday as I prepared my morning 'concoction tea.' I had put a bag of my Twinings Lemon & Ginger tea in the cup and added a small cup of freshly blended garlic, ginger and lemon juice. When I tasted the combination, it was harsher than usual. I decided to add a little honey. To my surprise, despite the honey, my concoction still had the pungent and acidic taste of garlic and lemon. Then it dawned on me, it is not truth that is bitter but the receiving ground that is acerbic.

Truth is sweet irrespective of the taste of the receiving ground. However, the taste in the mouth of the receiver will vary. So, when next you are confronted with the truth and you feel this unease welling up within you, remember this write-up. Truth is not bitter, it is your heart that is acerbic.

Though Truth is bitter is a correct English phrase, it is a common aphorism meant to deceive, cajole, confuse, or outright play politics with people’s perception. Truth may challenge beliefs, hurt feelings or force one to face a harsh reality, it should not be cloaked with the garb of bitterness. Truth is always sweet, it is the human heart that is acerbic.

Relationships, within marriages, family, colleagues and society at large should find sweetness in truth. Should any truth start tasting sour or bitter, no need to doubt the taste of the truth, check your heart. If your heart is sweet, you will taste the sweetness of truth. John 8:32 - And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. What is the taste of your truth?

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

The Gift of Men

 

I was thinking this morning.... I started my first year in the University with three shirts and two trousers. It was a very rough start for a Warri boy leaving the comfort of family to live alone for the very first time. For the next 12 months, I tried every combination of meal plan just to survive. 0-1-0, 0-0-1, 1-0-1, Water-1-Pawpaw, 0-Pawpaw-Water, etc. Life was hard but my dream of becoming a graduate drove me on.

I started my second year unsure of where to stay or how I will survive because I hadn't received my scholarship at the time. One morning, I walked into class and was told that the new lecturer had requested to see me. I was troubled, wondering what I had done wrong. I summoned up courage and went into her office. Contrary to my fears, she was friendly and asked how I was doing. My Itsekiri name was what caught her attention and brought the favour my way.

She subsequently welcomed me into her family marking the begining of my soft, or should I say biscuit bone life on campus. I never had to look for accommodation, as I move into her BQ in Staff quarters nor had to think of what to eat, as I got a seat on the family dinner table. She and her husband gave me every possible assistance till I was done with my second degree. I literally became their third child.

While my experience was a classic vignette of campus life, not everyone received the kind of help I got. This help is what the motivational speaker, Wintley Phipps called the HPLP gene, with HPLP meaning Helping People Live their Potential, but I call it the Gift of Men (GoM).

Since I left school, God had blessed my journey with other GoM bringing me to where I am today. Most people at one time or another in life had received the Gift of Men (GoM) to see them through a phase of life. Some may have been life changing and others, subtle. The GoM is not what you solicit or beg for, they just show up and offer to help on a platter. Most successful people today enjoyed the Gift of Men. Someone that just took interest in them and offered to help at no cost.

As I reflected on how difficult it is to survive in Nigeria today, I realise that we all need the Gift of Men to go through this fire. Gift of Men are sent by God to make you, help you live your potential and fulfil destiny (Matthew 4:19). Are you a GoM? Please don't turn down the opportunity to change a life today.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

BRIDE UNDER REPAIR

 

I was thinking this morning...... Someone posted a photo of a caution sign on a bridge in Akure saying 'Bride Under Repair' instead of 'Bridge Under Repair,' and commented that if the Bride is under repair, then the Groom must be under construction. Savage response, right? While I initially scoffed in disbelief, a second thought made me sober.

Yesterday, I attended the inter-tribal wedding of the daughter of my Ibo neighbour and her yoruba groom. As the couple danced to the admiration of all, I considered how they will manage their political leanings in the face of the seriously fractured political environment in Nigeria. With our very diverse culture and upbringing, inter-tribal marriages demand additional work. It is on that basis that I posited that the most appropriate sign to put up here is 'Bride and Groom under construction.'

Many get into marriage believing they are finished products and have nothing more to learn. Only last week, news made the rounds of a lady in Onitsha that violently abused and brutalised her 11-year-old maid. When I saw the disturbing photos of the brutalised girl, I actually wondered if the madam was human. She will thereafter wake up, dress up and make up, acting like a wife and even a mother. Mtchew! There is only one thing for the husband to do, shut her down and put out the sign 'Wife Under Repair.'

Like buildings and other infrastructures, humans need regular maintenance and repair. Reseash revealed that the life expectancy of a modern building is 60 to 75 years but with can last much longer with repair and maintenance. Albi Cathedral in South Central France was built about 900 years ago but still standing because of regular repair and maintenance.

Truth is, even the best of us need regular repair and maintenance of our physical, mental and emotional being. Any man or woman that refuses to devote time and resources for repair or maintenance will eventually kaput. If you know your heart beats uncontrollably when Nigeria plays, please stay off and put out a sign 'Man under Repair.' There are ways to renew your body and mind (Romans 12:1-2). Take responsibility today.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

LESSONS FROM 1995

 

I was thinking this morning.... a few days ago, my former boss, whom we called Oga Adoki (third from left), sent me this group photo we took sometime in 1995/96 at our SPDC office, Edjeba Housing Complex, Warri. Just looking at the faces of everyone brought both smiles and tears to my face. Sad because two persons in the photo had transitioned to glory and smiles from fond memories of my previous life working in Warri.

The longer I looked at the photo, the more I observed interesting features. The first thought that jumped at me was how cheap fabric must have been in those days. Did you observe the size of my trousers? My goodness! Where did all the fabric come from? Even the ladies, the way they were dressed will make a young girl of today wonder if they had skin disease that they were covering. Long and short, we no dey manage material those days.

I looked again and observe that all the men in the photo had flat stomach. Where there no pots in those days that men could have swallowed? What are we eating that is making us have pot belly today? We were all looking fit for the role. Natural and healthy meals and being active made the difference.

I peered at the ladies again and observed something that may indicate how stingy they must have been. What were they doing with all their money that they couldn't afford bone straight hair? What kind of 'alaroro' are they doing by perming their hair? Ordinary N1m they couldn’t spend to buy bone straight and Brazilian hair. Na wa o.

But wait o, what is it with the flowered neck ties, shirt and dress we had on? Is it because the vegetation then were green, colourful and luscious? A youngster today will think we were flower boys and girls.

Irrespective of what you think of the photo and our looks, it was the appropriate 'costume' at the time. Life is a stage and we are actors. The script of life is in Scenes and that was Scene 1 of my Working Script. Be deliberate about whose script you are acting and whether you are giving it your best. Your success and victory in life is dependent on how you played your role on the stage with the script you have in your hands. Let God's word be your script (Matthew 6:34).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE DOCTOR EVERYONE WANTED ME TO BE

 

I was thinking this morning.... I woke up this morning, a day after my birthday, thinking about how far I have come in my journey of life. In my reflection, I saw myself in the dark blue uniform of Mowoe Primary school Warri, clutching my school bag as I walked from our compound at 6 Ogboru Street. I meandered through 15B Father Healy Street, into Ometan Street, Ginuwa Road and finally into Robert Road where I branched into the gate of my beloved Mowoe Primary school. I recalled how my dad and uncles called me small doctor. I never understood why but that birthed my dream of becoming a doctor.

I then saw myself in the white shirt on sky blue shorts of Hussey college Warri. I was a day student and walked north from 6 Ogboru Street towards Obahor and into Upper Erejuwa where the sprawling compound of Hussey college is located. From Class 3 to Class 5, I was in the Sciences studying my way to becoming the doctor everyone wanted me to be. When my JAMB results were released, it fell short of the cutt-off mark to study medicine, marking the first setback in my journey to becoming the doctor everyone wanted me to be.

I was later admitted to the University of Benin to study Microbiology but was determined to switch to Medicine the following year. With good grades, the switch happened but was short-lived, as the interdepartmental transfer was cancelled after just 4 weeks, ending my dream of becoming the medical doctor everyone wanted me to be.

As I graduated with a B.Sc, I did not despair about my inability to become a medical doctor. I however took a slight detour and started studying to become an academic doctor. Afterall, doctor na doctor. Within a short period, I completed my M.Sc and started my PhD but 6 months later, I suspended the program to focus on building a career. It's been 28 years and my dream of becoming the doctor everyone wanted me to be, is still on hold.

In all my years on earth, many dreams have come to pass and many others fell through, but in all, I am on course with destiny. Along the way, I have learnt that not all dreams come to pass but that every sincere prayer and genuine effort you put into fulfilling that dream eventually leads you to destiny. Stay focused on life and not on dreams because it is the steps you take in life that fulfil dreams. I may not be the doctor everyone wanted me to be, but I am thankful that I am who God wants me to be (Romans 8:29).

Thanks to everyone that celebrated me yesterday.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey