Monday, October 31, 2011

Working On It...

I am still trying to find my blog voice, and what I want this blog to be. I will find it soon, but keep popping in.
Thanks!

Thursday, October 27, 2011

"Mama, Please Hold My Baby, Hannah Montana is on!"


"Juno" grossed $1.4 million and Jamie Lynn Spear's baby was wrapped up in nice neat bows. But in the midst of our pseudo-joy and Hollywood frenzy, a pregnant 14-year-old Jane Doe is unlikely to finish high school and could end up on welfare.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, a total of 435,427 infants were born to mothers aged 15 - 19 years in 2006. More than 80 percent of these births were unintended.

In light of these statistics, many parents still leave the teaching and nurturing of children to the media and to Hollywood. These powers come alongside the ever-failing abstinence-only classes and the comprehensive, but enabling, sex education classes.

It is the era of "Juno", and "The Secret Life of An American Teenager."

Parents, aunts, uncles and, mentors sit with  tween- princesses and princes to watch sex-laced, pregnancy-happy, PG-13 television shows and movies. When the cast and credit rolls, do these adults send  kids to bed with a kiss or do they engage them in open conversations?

Who will point the scolding finger at cultural propaganda? Who will stand against the trend of 12-year-olds having condom-happy sex? Who will guard the already low self-esteems of  children dealing with lies like being fat, being stupid, or being ugly? Do we all smile and get coerced into an implicit consent of hilarious, teen love-struck scripts, only less plausible than the idea that Rebecca Black can sing?

Are society and parents going with the flow? At what cost?

Teenagers are having sex, and they are making pregnancy pacts. Teenagers are craving attention and validation. While parents work double jobs, Hollywood serves an irresistible dish. It is time to leave utopia and focus on the reality.

Several studies show that adults’ involvement can help reduce the risk of children becoming pregnant. It is a new era; the buzz word is "Change" and we sure can do it.

Parents, guardians and mentors, the next time you talk to your child or watch a movie with them, remember it is your charge to challenge their minds, build their self -esteems and fight some battles on their behalf.


It is your charge to tell your gallant prince that having a baby does not make him a man, but acting responsibly does. It is time to tell your brave princess that men would still want and like her, even if she does not sleep with them. Above all, she will like herself.

A Kaiser Family Foundation study reveals that 29 percent of teens reported feeling pressured to have sex, and 24 percent have done "something sexual they did not want to do."


It takes an entire village to raise a child, but it also takes an entire village pooling resources to fight and challenge all the enemies within.


[Photo Credit]
[Photo Credit]

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

I Stand to Reason...


...that the difference between people who are successful and those who are not follow a pattern.
There are people who dream and there are those who dream not.
There are people who take action in living out their dreams and there are some who do not.
There are people who succeed in acheiving their dreams and there are many who do not.
There are people who got up after failing to keep pushing their dreams or dream another dream and there are those who do not get up.
The commom denominator for all the successful is action and more action and more action. Mental action of dreaming. Physical action of doing. The act of having an idea and pushing through with discipline and dedication.Success is a culmination of dreams, action, discipline, persistence, hardwork, failure, determination and passion. Not one successful person on any level sat on their bum and wished their dreams into fruition. There was the hardwork of discipline, planning. falling and getting up. Years of strategizing, making mistake, fighting back and following ones heart and intuition.

Years of hardwork.Weighing the pain of hardwork against the joy of success will always reveal that the pain was all worth it.

[Photo Credit]

Monday, October 24, 2011

Scribed: Layers



I am many coatings and layers of dreams, desires, goals, friendships, co-workers, mentors and family. I am the peak of passion and the beginning of ecstasy. I am the cold face of a racist victim. I am the flaming annoyance of a Negro’s experience and the subjectivity of a black female. I am the degraded perplexity of an African. I am White like me. I am the backside of a human stabbed by stereotypes. I am the family's black sheep.

I am not the lawyer, but I am the little girl who climbs trees. I am not a doctor, but I am the little boy who loves shoes. I am the enjoyment of sexual abuse. I am the well-dressed black professional who cringes at the smelly African-American drug addict on the metro. I am the middle-class that dips into my pocket, but not my heart for the subordinate class.

I am young, male, female, queer, immigrant, American, Congolese, Muslim, Buddhist, of low-income, teen-mother, heiress, disabled and differently-able. I come in many layers wrapped in dust.

I am action, advocacy, self-love, empowerment, strength and the struggle after sexual abuse, race abuse, sexist abuse, fallacies, stereotypes and oppressions. I maneuver all my layers attempting to connect.

I am the slope of voluptuous breasts, the sturdiness of strong legs, the scar of a circumcised vagina, the smoothness of facial skin, the vibration of an erect penis, the gallops and contours of a belly, the pulse of a masculine bicep, the softness of a feminine skin, and the angle of a well rounded butt.

[Photo Credit]

Friday, October 21, 2011

Day 10: Put Your Music Player On Shuffle and Write Out 1st Ten Songs



1. Cassie - Me and You (Reminds Me Of college and dancing with and on MDF)


2. Ray Charles - Somewhere Over The Rainbow (RMO "Ray" The Movie)


3. Chicago SoundTrack - When You're Good to Mama (RMO Power and Sex)


4. Lyfe Jennings - S.E.X (RMO the fact I don't like this artist and I do not know why)


5. Hoku - Perfect Day (RMO Me and Why I love life)


6. Donnie McClurkin - Stand (RMO Faith and How God always comes through)


7. Cascada -  Perfect Day (RMO Schydes Bar and dance music)


8. D'Banj - Agala (RMO all the dance moves I want to burst out)


9. Kirk Franklin - Imagine Me (RMO of the gifts I have and how nothing is impossible if I try)


10.Cece Winans - It Wasn't Easy (RMO how many old songs are on my ipod)


[About 30 Days Challenge]

[Photo Credit]

Friday, October 14, 2011

Waking Up to a Good Day...

I woke up this morning feeling good. The kind of good that makes you wanna move mountains or walk out of your house ready to change the world. I felt powerful! So I strutted to the train station feeling all kinda sexy...


Aboard the train, a gorgeous guy was flirting with me. I thought "it is a good day, why not?" I dusted up my old flirting skills and went to work. Alas, few minutes into my tiny heaven of smiles and eye lash battling...he rubs his head and on his finger was a ring.

Dang, I always check...only today, I was feeling all kind of good. I stuck my tongue out at him (literally) and went back to my book.

I got off the train and waltzed to work.

I am still feeling my good at 12:51pm.

This is definitely a good day!

[Photo Credit]

Friday, October 7, 2011

Some Wise Thoughts...


These words resound deeply with me. It sums up philosophically(well, kinda) what I was thinking when I wrote this post "Twenty Years From Today..."  I have always lived my life along these lines, but somewhere between spending four years in the DC area and growing older...I lost that sense of truth.

I have a deep feeling that I will be living this out for the rest of my life. Dreaming...Exploring...Discovering...Living!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Scribed: On Lovers and Food!




***
Hunger pangs are part of living in the dorms. They are most unbearable during starvation period when your provisions are all gone and the school's kitchen food supply is almost exhausted for the term. We all have to make do with a pinch of garri soaked in water for hours and later shared by five people. It is also a few weeks to the end of the school term; we are getting ready to go back home for holidays. The life of a secondary school boarder is filled with craziness, and it is a love – hate relationship. Most days, I wish I could be home with my parents and siblings watching Checkmate. I could be salivating over Richard Mofe-Damijo right about now, but I am stuck in the jungle of life doing 6am – 10pm. The trauma of lights on to morning duties to lights out is my life.

My one bliss is the lover’s quarter of the administration block. The Admin Bloc, as it is fondly called by both students and staff, is avoided by students during the day, but a popular location for lovers at night. Here is where I get to explore all guilty pleasures with my school father. He is really my school father, but with time father became admirer and then lover. It is hard keeping our hands off each other while we pretend at the duties of father –daughter relationship. However, in the end I get to lay on the Admin Bloc’s concrete goodness in his arms.

It is almost time for dinner, and the dining hall is full to its max during starvation period. Everyone goes. Well, almost everyone goes. Some parents are in close enough relationships with teachers and house masters/mistresses to secretly and regularly supply their little brats with milk, sugar and cabin biscuits. The rest of us suffer still.

"Nneka, there goes the dinner bell." yelled Deks from her room. Fadeke Badmus, popularly called Deks by all, is my best friend, and I am screwing her father. A lonely widower and a willing teenager, no crime in that.

"I will be ready in a second." I yelled back across the lawn. Our rooms were across from each other, but she is usually either in mine or I in hers. I dragged myself into my house uniform, made sure my make-up was subtle enough to pass with the old haggard nosy mistresses, grabbed my wrapper, pillow and school bag. Thirty minutes after dinner is study time, and I have a big test coming up.

It is Wednesday, and dinner is beans boiled in gallons of dirty brown water and spiced with pepper, salt and palm-oil. Today’s meal is a perfect recipe for constipation and diarrhea. Such pleasure, but this is the stuff living in the dorms are made off. The kitchen caterers never think to divert from the meal plan except every once in a while our meals get spiced with a roach or two. You expect porridge with an occasional hair-ball for Saturday dinner. The dining hall bell’s third ring is an indication that If Deks and I, plus the dozen other JSS 3 students still milling around do not get out the doors in two minutes, we will either be crawling to dinner or hiding in the attic to avoid the prefects. The god-forsaken never been in authority prefects with their over-expanded crutch of responsibility. Please get a life, freaks.

One case in point is Senior Sade, the ugliest thing to have ever come out of a woman’s vjjs. She makes up for her ugly with big butts and boobs; most days I want to slap her to hell. She is the Red house prefect, an over-glorified room captain position. However, she thinks she is head girl. Dang, she is ugly. I have heard from a reliable source about her latest and ongoing rendezvous with the Yellow house mistress’s husband. I am leaving it at that.

"Are you done with the Mills and Booms?" Deks asked while applying her lip-gloss.
"No, let’s go. I don't want to crawl to dinner tonight." I replied.

She is taking unusual care of herself lately. I know she is up to something, and she'll tell me what it is when she is ready. I just have to wait this one out. I have learned not to probe her; she always spills anyways.

"Deks, you look good already, let’s go..."
"Okay! Okay! Geez! Let’s go" She interrupted. Her newest trait, but I'll let it slide. I could hear Senior Sade counting down from ten, we need to get out.

"Are you seeing Senior Shina tonight?" She asked as we hurried out the dorms to dinner.
"After dinner, just for a bit though. I need to get to studying."
"Tell him I still need my textbook back. Can you remember to tell him tonight, please?"
"I told him the last three times you said it. Not sure why he keeps forgetting." I replied. "I will remind him and make sure he gives it to me tonight after prep time."
"Thanks." She replied.

"Why are you both strolling to the dining hall?" 

Here goes Senior Funke Babatunde, the social prefect. She makes me so mad, I cannot stand her guts. The feeling is mutual anyways, so Deks and I know to stop walking and run the rest of the way to the dining hall. Senior Funke is my school father’s girlfriend; she is jealous, because Senior Shina spends a lot of time with me and even vals me alongside her on valentine’s day. If only she knew the depth of it. I smile knowing she is clueless on our beautiful secret...

*The characters illustrated in this blog post are products of both the author's imagination and experiences. They do not represent any living or deceased being, and all similarities are purely coincidence.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Scribed: Her Presumption...She Supposed!


20 years ago came the lightning. 15 years ago struck the thunder, 10 years ago poured the storm and in 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 year..., she is living out the aftermath of the flood.

She is in a tunnel. But where is the light at the end of it? She heard a couple of years ago that "THERE" lies the light. And yesterday, on the radio, she is sure she heard it again, "THERE LIES THE LIGHT"

She is in bed surrounded by the very things she holds dear and despises...
She is surrounded by the man that seems able;
She is surrounded by the food that fills the vacuum the man cannot fill;
She is surrounded by the exercise equipment that vows to take away the food's venom;
She is surrounded by the magazines that tells her who she ought to be;
She is surrounded by the friends that "beat around the truth" in love.

She whispers, "I will go tomorrow, maybe I will see the light tomorrow"

She crawls out of bed, and her heart beats with the thought "THERE LIES THE LIGHT." She is determined to present herself in the best light possible. Rummaging through her closet for the best wear...,a cute flowery skirt with a black shirt to match. She had caught the eyes of many beloved in that skirt, and everyone tells her she looks wonderful when she wears that shirt. This will not be different, she will be noticed today. Her make-up was on point..., she knew it.

She stands at the door in her cute skirt and face beautifully made-up. She peeks into the room and takes the first step. This is her first step to freedom, to acceptance, and to liberty. She took the first step, and SHE SUPPOSED that loving hands will lead her to the right pew for her kind.

Then, necks turned, eyes popped and lips moved.

"Who the heck is that & what is she doing here?"
"She is supposed to know better...this is Church"
"This is Church...how dare she walks around looking like that"
"Oniranu...I don't want to see you around her"
"What virtuous woman comes to Church looking like that"
"And she expects to catch a good man"
"Damn, she graced my bed a couple of years ago"
"Remember the girl I told you about...hmm, there she is. She was good!"
“She needs to get a make-up clue”

The voices are louder, the words are harsher and their scowls pierce. Their sense of Right is engulfed in fear and loathing.

The people in the LIGHT seem blinded to her heart and what is left of it. Her heart is like ashes floating in the air after the fire. Her heart is like debris left behind after the house collapsed. Her heart is like waste sediment left behind by the flood.

She is lashed by our tongues, criticized by our eyes and poked at with our fingers. She turns to run and it is back in the wrong direction. She feels the sting of the wind slash across her face trying to turn her around. But she keeps running, because she is running away from our poking fingers, from our lashing tongues, from our Bibles, the weapon we employed to slap her across the face.

We glared at her with the Bible in one hand and a Stone in the other...

The door was open, the people were dressed nicely and the food was served.
How does a woman suffering from ulcer consume over-spiced food drowned in chili pepper?
Did you not know that it burns?

She aspired to glory, but SHE SUPPOSED we could help her get there.
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