Sibling Love: How tough is and should it be?

How true?
How true?

I couldn’t find the term for sibling love, like we have filial love to mean that between a parent and the child. So please if you know it right, just leave a comment.

Now to my post, the picture’s caption tells us something so what is it I have to add? Read on to find out for yourselves!

One of my very first posts on this blog was about my family and that was on the 29th of November last year. Wow, how time flies?

I didn’t know then why I labelled it a ‘Gardener’s Family’. I decided to be a gardener and to have a special page called Marie’s Garden so maybe that’s why!

Now, my relationship with my siblings has always been as diverse and all and I said a little in my book.  Ah that controversial book again?

Life has dealt my siblings and I blows for example when our parents divorced and for some time we were ‘motherless’ in my father’s house and had to deal with that our own way. I remember stepping it to ‘mother’ us a while and I reflect on some of that in a recent post of mine.

Now, as if that was not enough to keep us together, as if that was enough to increase our Sibling Love, I had to go through my own divorce and cut connection with my siblings for quite some time (like 8 months while I sorted my sanity out).

Well, I thought we could survive that too and well somehow we did!

How True?
How True?

But, things have never been the same again!

My siblings and I have  a ‘cool’ relationship. Let me leave it at this!

I miss my brother
I miss my brother

My all the time favorite I must admit, is and has always been my brother. My one and only and his post will be featured someday. He is special, so special. I fought real fights and tough one in primary school to protect him whether he was at fault or not. I fought 5 girls at the same time, I mean older girls and even some boys.

As for my two sisters, they have their own lives, ways, believes and all!

The trouble is, probably ME! I must be difficult to love unconditionally. I don’t know if that should be expected and if I truly love them unconditionally too?  Yet,  I sincerely think I do!

I came across a blog post on ‘siblingship’ and how we should take care of them and that is exactly what I am hoping to do this next three days.

I sought a visa to go thousands of miles and visit my sister and her family. She was initially excited about the project but then she read my book and things sort of became very ‘formal’. I dare not say more.

But, I will still go for that is what I want to do. I haven’t seen her and hers for years. That’s life right?

This I know to be true :

I love my sisters
I love my sisters

This I wish to be true:

I wish to be true always
I wish to be true always

And this I leave for our reflections:

How truly memorable could this be among siblings?
How truly memorable could this be among siblings?

Gentle followers of mine, you know how much I appreciate your likes, comments or sharing right?


Secrets We Hold, Secrets We Tell

I stumbled on this post when visiting the freshly pressed section of wordpress. I am glad I found it and it is most timely to me in particular. I took the decision to publish all my ‘secrets’ in a book title My Unconventional Loves: My Hurts, My Adulteries, My Redemption. Yes, I didn’t want to carry them anymore and felt I would share them with the world and not just a priest, chaplain or whoever! There is such liberation in that and I now feel ‘free’ to help others in their ‘secret journeys’!

Dharma Cowgirl

Post card received by Post Secret, an online blog that people send anonymous post cards to with their secrets. ( Post card received by Post Secret, an online blog that people send anonymous post cards to with their secrets. (

People tell me things, deep, painful, secret things. It’s part of the work of chaplains, why we exist. We are the conduit of their unburdening. This is a beautiful function of the human connection. Can you imagine it: healing a little just by sharing? How marvelous! We do it all the time, every day. When we tell our boyfriend how our day was, or complain to our best friend about our boss, we are healing through sharing through connection. We need each other to witness our lives and we witness for others. But because this is such a powerful need, we are sometimes afraid to share and afraid to witness the deep, hard, suffering parts. We don’t want to risk the connection. These are the burdens we keep and carry…

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This indeed is a pearl. Some give up once they ‘lose’ something ‘precious’. Others give in to ‘drinks’, ‘drugs’ and ‘all’.

I almost gave up and in all together but that’s past now.

So, I thank Mah Mekolle for sharing this anf urge you all my gentle followers to reflect on this pearl!

No matter what happens, no matter how much you may have lost, all is not lost. You are still here. You are important to the continuation of your journey here on earth. Find your strength and stand firm. As long as you have breath you have a fighting chance to regain what you lost or to find something different altogether.

Mah Mekolle

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What my boy says he learns most from me!

Wow, its been hectic for us all I guess right?

As for me, you all know some of dynamic enterprises like the book I recently published and I still hope many of you will get copies. Any way, my target really is quality over quantity.

Over to what this article is all about. First , I am sure you know that I am a divorced woman who ‘eloped with a street kid ‘ and left her own kids behind right? I actually now survive only on drawings, letters and phone calls when grazed by the network.

Last two weeks, my first son almost embarrassed me by asking me if I couldn’t draw a simple flower for him. I tried my best and well over the phone i explained to him that sometimes we couldn’t do it all on our own and that we each had different gifts.

He argued with me that we could still strive to learn new skills and work hard to become what was still only a wish or dream. He said we could even get those who already know to teach us some too.

Oh, how I was proud. That was just the beginning because yesterday, I received this from him along with his usual weekly letters:

Stop dreaming to fly and work hard to become a PILOT!
Stop dreaming to fly and work hard to become a PILOT!

How happy, proud, excited and thrilled I was. I shared this on some of my networks and most comments were so warm.

Some said you teach your boy right, others said he was a genius, and others said this was precious.  

I  think, sometimes, our kids know so much than we think unless we engage them and encourage them. I think, age ain’t nothing but a number. I think distance is not a barrier.

And you my gentle followers, what make you of his drawing?

Fouziah and Catherine my mates, friends and heroines!

Fouzia my friend
Fouzia my friend

When I was had been accepted to come to the prestigious University School of Brussels Studies, it was a very crucial point in my life.

As my story narrates, and for those who will be reading my memoir, l just wanted to leave the country for good.

I needed to go to a different world and start all over.

I got onto the internet and joined as many school list serves as possible one of which was for prospective students where we introduced ourselves and hopefully made some new friends before coming.

l didn’t want many friends again and so I picked two out from the various introductions I read and going by my guts.

The first one was the lady you see in the picture, Fouzia is her name. I bookmarked and that was in September 2012. Funny enough, I finally got to meet Fouzia and we became friends only in April last year or thereabout giving four good months after we both started off in the same school.

Fouzia is like my elder sister and that is why I like her so much. She is kind of fragile and very careful, has her own dreams in her own calm way, and takes her time to do things.

Fouzia is also my star because she bought the very first paperback edition of my book, well from my stock of 10 which I had ordered.

Fouzia even wanted to pay a double prize saying it was her modest contribution while brooding how when we invited her over for dinner I didn’t let her bring a bottle of wine.

Oh, Fouzia helps me fume off whenever I am crazed by my team at work or feel stuck with my studies and hyper beehive. It is also funny how I only knew she was the same person I had bookmarked a few weeks ago when I stumbled on an email we had exchanged before I came.

The next friend I bookmarked is called Catherine Duchess of W.

Catherine duchess of W
Catherine duchess of W

I met her a little earlier than Fouzia well, probably because we were not many Africans in the class right?

I had even exchanged a few emails with her and so it wasn’t difficult to introduce each other further.

Ha Lady Kate as I will henceforth call her is one dynamic bunch but not as bee like myself.

She says she just recently joined Facebook and that alone had prevented our friendship from blooming back then because I didn’t have a smart phone nor even a reliable one, I lived in a far off village, and well I am part time while they both are full time.

Who buys a book for twice the price? Lady Kate does. Who offers the seller a gift of a bottle of perfume em euphoria by Calvin Klein? Lady Kate again.

Lady Kate does not like ‘wahala’ like I don’t mind entertaining though. I think she would be more like my kind sister. Social in her own way, but just that.

Lady Kate however has a gift I admire; she can read piles of books at once. As for Fouzia, she knows how to just shut down the damn “smart ass” of a phone and enjoy her vacation or get serious if need be.

How could I not be very grateful for my two friends who just complement me in one way or the other? Fouzia and Lady Kate had even unknown to me then been flat mates at some period last year; Hm, they even tell me the other is a nice person.

They are therefore my school mates, my friends and my heroines from this other episode of my life!

And so, on the ocassion of the International day of the Woman, I wish them and all other women who will read this post, a great day and life all together. May all the men who are their women’s Gentleman have a great life too!

Finally – Live on Kindle and Paperback

And so dear all, this is a reminder of a public service announcement:

You got the preface

You got the trailer

You got the contents

You got the why

You even got a star chapter on Marriage My Refuge

And now in all modesty, I give all to you LIVE: My Amazon Author Page

Thanks in advance for all your comments, reviews and love (or em hate? well that would be honest critical reviews too right?)

The Kindle version is easily accessible with this one click, while the paperback Product Details can be found right here .

Gentle followers of mine, dare I thank you for checking my book out and leaving your honest reviews thereafter!

Be Inspired!!

Be Inspired!!.

There is definitely no elevator to success.

We either climb those stairs of life cheerfully no matter how winding the staircases may be or how rugged the wood or surface is turning out, or we stay on the ground floor.

We could even opt to stay there and watch other climb to success and be story tellers for them – to me the choice is ours!

What could be your take gentle followers of mine?

The Twin Divorce!

Just me, battered and shattered by life but not tattered.
Just me, battered and shattered by life but not tattered.

I have heard some Africans talk of Generational curse or whatever and other wonder if there isn’t something wrong with the family history?

I am a regular contributor to the Divorce Magazine and the other day, I read with interest an article by JungleDiva  on that noble  Divorce Magazine where she highlighted her uncle’s premonition about her own marriage.

Her uncle hinted that said because her parents had been divorce, the chances of her own marriage carrying that same ‘gene’ were pretty high.

Yet, I also know it is not an established fact that kids from divorced homes will end up down that same tunnel especially if they marry for the right reasons I suppose. Well, both my sisters are still happily married.

As for me, the stakes were pretty high that I will take that same path, not because of any curse nor family history but by own ‘negligence’ I must confess.

I got married actually because I was trying to run away from a similar path. Marriage was my Refuge, turned jail in which I all over again left even younger kids than when we were left too.

Now, a little history right?

My Parents divorced when I was thirteen or so. I am the second of four siblings but the one all considered the ‘toughest’. They still call me to date ‘L’homme de situation difficile‘ (The man of tough times if I could translate it such).

I took charge soon after our mother left. I skipped the wall at my father’s to go fetch us food and all when our step mother denied that we touch her anything. I also jumped that same high fence to bring my mother some stuffs she left behind and needed. I did this because my dad locked the gate with a key on leaving for work and his wife kept it locked!

I had known from my tender age that all was not right and it hurt me who was considered a favourite of my dad’s. My mother often taught me some good lessons with the whip or her shoe. I was a revolt.

I testified in court at their divorce and none of my siblings had the courage to do so, hence I spoke on our behalf.

Simply put, I grew up my own way, out on the streets or in boarding school, wherever but home.

That was why I wanted so badly to have my own home. There was a problem however, I already had a son and so I wasn’t according to the African Tradition, a worthy woman anymore. Marriage was going to be hard to come by.

I thought I could force one into being and keep it up.

Don’t ask me where I learnt about marriage. Don’t ask me either where I learnt about Love. Still do not ask me what I intended to do to stay married or avoid a divorce at all cost.

So, it came to be that I knew barely nothing about marriage. It came to pass that I knew little or nothing about love. And the inevitable came to happen that my ‘sham of a marriage’ collapsed at even a faster rate than had my parents before mine.

Wow, was that some curse? Was that something to do with my childhood? Was it some mistake on my part?

As for a curse, I don’t believe in those, don’t care to and don’t want to think of that possibility.

Are there any statistics to link kids of divorce homes to their own divorces?

As for my childhood, I definitely think it had a lot to do and Soila published a very interesting article on the adverse effect of Divorce on Kids.

As for mistakes on my part, definitely. There are many. I did not Marry out of Love, I badly loved to get Married and out of what I considered then a jungle.

Secondly, I did not Trust the man I married, well eventually because I started out trusting him until he indicated by his actions that I was wasting my trust.

Finally and yes the big wreck, came via a string of adulteries which pushed me to suicide’s door and then out of the country all together. My tale of Unconventional Loves is now published and both the Paper back and the Kindle versions are on the amazon.

I tell my stories of course just mine and I share them to heal and help further.

I really do not know if there is any statistics to link kids of divorce homes to their own divorces should they get married.

I also had this question asked me during my book launch by a friend: ” This book captures your life during a period of time… Aren’t you worried about the implications it may have on your kids?”

I asked her to explain further and this was her explanation: ” Some stigma may be attached to you and extended to the kids. To be honest, I remember vividly when your parents divorced. No one stopped to blame your Dad- it was always why couldn’t your mother have stayed, what kind of woman is she? Etc. And with your divorce, most people just attribute it to your parent’s divorce. In your case, unfaithfulness – if any of your children stray -well, knowing our society, you know what they would say. Their mother was unfaithful, why would you expect  better? ”

And so I gave her this reply: ” you are right and you remember well. All I can say is, stigma don’t mean a damn unless you want it to. They are boys soon to be men and I hope to by my own example teach them to develop thick skin. You know too that regardless of the reasons of a divorce especially back in our country and or continent , the woman is to blame and hence her Children will have to live with it somehow.”

I don’t even know if I would ever get married again at this rate.

I am therefore a little concerned about my own boys marriages should they get married too.

What do I do now? What do I teach them? From where do I start or how do I proceed given that I have only social network routes to them for the moment?

Sincerely, I would appreciate your comments, advise and resources.

mum, author, mental health advocate, therapist, inspires & motivates with personal experiences

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