Paris or paris? Random thoughts of mine


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Infront of the Marche au Pousse

With these two pictures, I begin my narrative and analysis. Well, just my random thoughts using some personal experiences. Still doesn’t make sense right? Ok now back to the words or rather question.

Paris or paris? What’s the difference? Ah just the capital letter right?

That’s precisely the differentiation I want to make. You see, I was in Paris during the summer and the first picture was taken in the beautiful scenery of the Montmartre, one of those touristic attractions you sure want to visit.

During that same trip, I visited the Eiffel Tower again, eye-shopped the Champs Elysées (for that’s all I can do except for buying a hot dog maybe) and had dinner in some chic apartment  in the 16th district and spent the night there too.

Wow, there, I got to taste Foie Gras, Choucroute, fromages, various wines and histories and eat with maybe 9 different cutlery and drank from 3 or so glasses. There was one for champagne, the other for wine (sometimes two if you will be having both red and white  at some interval as the meal is served) and of course one for water.

The different courses of such meals need some real courses in the university for their grasp.

Yes, to me that was Paris. The city of love, the city of bling, the city of fashion.

It reminds me of how from the same letter P, you can have Presidents or prisoners.

Now, this weekend, I went to paris as you can see in the second picture. That is the notorious Marché-aux-puces, the kind like we have back home (really reminded me of one called Nkoulouloun), where stuffs are pushed around and displayed on the ground, where you can bargain all you want and buy a few items too at real give away prices.

Yet in that market like in all paris, you are conscious of your bag, holding it tight as I held mine, you take a picture far away and zoom it later because it you dare in the market itself, be thankful to still keep the camera thereafter.

In paris, I visited this time around with a cousin who lives in the ‘banlieue’. She is called Marie (just like me huh).

Marie and I

We grew up together and really get along so well.

We spent the afternoon and evening cooking because on the next day she had one of those ‘njangis’, (a sort of meeting where money is saved by the members and lots of food ate) which Africans and Cameroonians in particular know how to carter for.

We cooked Cooking all night for a meetingand cooked and ate and drank and cooked again.  I wondered if even the concept of ‘should in case’ (where you anticipate uninvited guests or that people will bring plastic bags for take aways), is known and entertained out here.

Later by 2 am, her husband said he was taking me out to the famous 18th district to show me some hot spots. I did not come anticipating such an outing but Marie quickly lent me some clothes and here is the end product:

My brother inlaw wanted to show me Paris by nightIn three hours or so, we visited such spots and I danced myself out. I really did some sports huh!

The Périphérie du Nord is a famous Cameroonian ‘cabaret’ where music from the 60s’ and home food and drink flow in abundance… well as far as you can afford.

The Byblos night club in the ‘Cargo’ (for there is like a huge container full of people and there are four different dance halls and all) is also another attraction of paris.

By the time I got home, all I could do was pass out and this is how I saw it the next morning Hyper tiredas in a few hours later since we actually got back at 6 am or slightly thereafter.

Now, you have the narrative and even graphics, over to the analysis.

I earlier talked about Presidents or prisoners right?

I have had the pleasant opportunity  in life to meet both categories of people.

I have met Ellen Johnson, Dlamini Zuma or even Portia Simpson Miller just to name those few. Yet, I strongly think the chances of my meeting them are better if I am in Paris than if I find myself in paris.

Back home, I worked in the prison and on the streets and made some real friends. I went there like I would go home and I even dated a ‘street kid’ known as ‘Nanga Mboko’ in our parlance.  An extreme, right?

My random thoughts here is that, in life, we could be on either side of the same city. We could find ourselves on the left side of the road today and tomorrow we are on the right one.

I sincerely think that, if we work on flexibility and adaptability, our chances of making it in this life are greater.

I love both worlds. I have very fond memories of both Paris and paris and treasure my encounters with the Presidents as much as with the prisoners. It’s all a matter of choice and living up to those choices.

So, gentle followers of mine, what do you make of these random thoughts of mine?

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The Contents: The 14 stations of my Cross …


Coming to Kindle stores March 1st
Coming to Kindle stores March 1st

Surely this ain’t a Bible just MyStory!

Since everyone can literally own or carry a ‘cross’, I decided to refer to each chapter of my book as a station  of my own ‘cross’.

Most if not all  of those stations taught me lessons in and for life and I am who I am today thanks to them.

Find bellow therefore, the list and stay tuned to read more in the book itself:

Foreword

Chapter I: That Day in 1991

Chapter II: My Parents and I

Chapter III: My First “Boyfriends”

Chapter IV: My University Loves

Chapter V: The ‘Loves’ go Out of Bounds

Chapter VI: Alain My Son

Chapter VII: Marriage My Refuge (A post on this was featured two days ago on the Divorce Magazine and on marieabanga.com so check them out)

Chapter VIII: David My Shepherd

Chapter IX: My Adulteries

Chapter X: Gabriel My Angel

Chapter XI: Alain My “Treasure”

Chapter XII: The Cost

Chapter XIII: The Course

Chapter XIV: My Redemption

Epilogue:

Of course I retain the suspense by refraining to add anything else. You can refresh on the preface here, and look forward to the next insight come Saturday …

Oh Ye gentle followers of mine, what is your take?

My Darling Darling…


My-Adorable-Darling..

There is love in the air especially on this day right? And there should be love in the air too for the likes of ‘us’ I assert!

So I seize the opportunity to blog (and why not brag) about my Darling Darling…

You may wonder if I am not repeating a word here, but yes I am and on purpose. You see, when we met, I told him I will call him my Darling Darling and my Super Super Hero because I had hitherto called so many darling that he deserved the twinning.

I had earlier done a post on A Gentleman and of course I was talking about my DD (as I abbreviate it).

You see, I have come to learn that just because life has all those twists and turns and that we go through so much and even become ‘whore like’, does not mean we would never find a ‘Valentine’.

So, I am grateful for my DD and all the love and support he’s given me. Yes he even bought me my first ever smart phone for Christmas and a kindle for my birthday . He handles all the tech related issues of my various occupations  like the book you’ll soon be reading (but he doesn’t for my social media beehive for he’s not into all those -stopping just at Linux and Ubuntu’s door).

Lets celebrate ours if we’ve got them, and lets keep walking and hoping and dreaming if we’ve not found them yet.

My DD and I, are  still a long way from the above quote but we ‘are sure getting there and to me, anticipation, forecasting, dreaming, planning and all are part of the ride.

Do share some love and leave lovely comments all you gentle followers of mine.

Soila…


SOILA

Love and appreciation is in the air right?

So today I will write about a heroine of mine I met last week (em yes I sometimes fall too quickly for people especially when my nerves chick me to). Well, tomorrow, I will post about my Hero so just be patient.

Now, why Soila and what has she done to make me do a post on her so soon after we e-met. Hm, cozy down and read on.

Last year, when I came to Belgium and the weather was just making me more weary, I started to roam the internet more. Ah, ye I was looking for Divorce sites where I could read others’ stories and maybe one day be ready to share mine too.

“I registered with a few of them like the Huffington Divorce, Moms Divorce, Dads Divorce (yes even from that angle I had a thrice divorced dad, a divorce husband, and now a boyfriend who recently got divorced) and oh not forgetting Kids Divorce ( and here, I was a kid from such a home and now I have kids from such a home oh life).”

Yet, I just read on every now and then but didn’t feel ready to start sharing. I think I needed to find love first. I need to love myself hard and to find a gentleman.

The next apprehension was, with the huge crow in those websites, would I not even get drowned and trampled upon before I even learn the basics of contributing articles? Who would have time for an MJC (Mary Just Come) like me?

One thing led to another and I became very social network active along the line. People even started following me on twitter before I could understand the ‘twittatics’.

Soila and her Divorce Magazine were one of such people. Hm, I looked them up and felt a thrill. It popped out at once – that’s what you  have been waiting for so go for it.

You see, I had been following those other sites since July 13th and yet I didn’t even know who ran them of if they even smiled just like Soila does.

I thus quickly contacted her and this is a brief of the response I got and less than 48 hours later:

” Hi Marie,

Thank you for getting in touch.

Your story does indeed sound not only interesting but also one that may inspire others and ease the pains that others might be experiencing which is really the aim of The Divorce Magazine.
 
I have read your story on your blog and there is so much there, I’m not sure what to say.  ” Feb 9 (4 days ago)
You can imagine the rest right. Well, my first article was published on the magazine yesterday so you can refresh right here and I have a page on the DM too,  full of kind words.
Soila is a strong and powerful woman just like my friend June.
Yes, Soila recently shared with us how she survived her divorce(s) or rather how she is dealing with pain.
If she hadn’t I wouldn’t have guessed.
I was ready to share my story, actually, my book is to be released in barely 15 days from now.
Because Soila has giving me this other opportunity to heal and help more than I hurt, I consider her one of my heroines.
Dear Gentle followers, share one of your heros or heroines with us or maybe just leave a comment and spread the work?

Marriage My Refuge


AMAI Know many would wonder at the awkwardness of such a title! Should Marriage be considered as a Refuge in any right thinking mind? Surely, I was out of my mind right?

Well, I think I am not the only one who at some point in her life preferred to be married at all cost than to stay single, and maybe with a child, and maybe still living at her mother’s, and maybe with no source of income, and maybe with her mind drifting towards hyper restlessness.

I was one of those someones and I share my story with you.

I had had a son in 2003 and that one is another story. Now, in Africa and Cameroon in particular, having a child out of wedlock is simply put, an abomination.

Next, I still lived at my mum’s, had no source of income although I had had a law degree and even a post graduate diploma. For a woman and probably for a man of my generation, still living at home when you are 25 and not having any source of income is frustrating.

To crown it all, I didn’t get along with my mother of course among st other reasons because of that b…… I had given birth to and now burdened her with.

So, how else was I to live without any income unless I asked someone to marry me or cornered someone to propose to me sooner than later?

As it happened, while travelling to another city for some petty business I was doing,  a guy who was to become my X, feigned interest in the products and took down my mobile number.

He told me like many had done before him that he admired my courage and figure and whatever. I told him I wasn’t interested in playing around anymore, that I had a son and that I thought I should be settling down at my age.

My X told me he was also not looking to play around, he had a 3 months old son and had intended to marry his girlfriend, but his mother (his father towed along) wouldn’t hear about it, and the girl and her mum were alleged to be witches and he was sick of it all.

I was like okay, we both need to settle down, we each come from far, so why don’t we get married?

Terrible reasons to get married I now admit. But that was how it happened that I got Married because I was looking for a Refuge from ‘home’ and my broke state.

We got to start trying to know each other well after our marriage, which took place on the 18th of March 2005 in my village, and my father who was the Lord Mayor by then, celebrated it. Lord, what honour with dishonour I was bringing to my dad – you alone could give him the grace thereafter and now.

I just wanted the whole marriage to take place so badly that I rejected all signals of incompatibility of personality and otherwise. Mr. X loved keeping late hours, he was disorganized, kept a lot of things to himself, could very well have been groomed at some point by my own father.

my marriageMy parents’ reservation revolved about his level of education, his apparent instability and my still dependent status; my mother remarked that I went to his mother’s too often before we got married, making it look like I was urging things, which in all honesty I was.

Nobody ever inquired about the ‘love’ factor.

By my 26th birthday, I was pregnant and so by the time we got married I was 2.5 months pregnant. Hmm, even if I wanted to back out, what option did I really have?

His mother also didn’t really like me after all. I didn’t want to go to the farm, I didn’t want to stay with her until her sisters and she officially accompany me to my husband’s, and I didn’t want to learn from her how to cook what she knew her son loved most.

Worst of all I was pressing for a small wedding after my family had ‘hijacked’ the administrative ceremony to our village where her all family couldn’t come.

We survived for six years, and by the time I was leaving, I had lost 2 children, had 2 others, had been physically, mentally and emotionally abused, had dirtied, hurt, almost killed myself, and at some point weighed 115 kgs.

I had done it all, and I always remembered how, when I wept bitterly at the loss of my daughter ‘Ange-Claire’ and asked my mother what I had not yet seen at my 30 years of existence, she said I had not yet seen anything. There was still much more I was going to see and go through, she said.

I could not blame any other person but myself and I was from the second year of that marriage, looking for yet some other refuge; this time around, a way out of there.

A gentle aunt of mine affirmed that marriage was supposed to be a 50-50% investment by both parties, but I dread calculating how much each of us actually put into the marriage. I can only speak on my behalf, and I think I put in something revolving around 30%.

It was crazy I never thought of the cute, loving, sincere friend stuff when marriage ‘hovered’; but even if I had, to what good would it have been, as if I were also still that cute and worthy and all.

All this said, you can easily imagine the woman I was when I got married and how further despicable of myself I felt when I left. To make matters worst, I left my sons behind (3) in total. It was and still is hard. I will be writing on this in subsequent posts.

I know marriage is supposed to be out of love, but I hoped the love was going to grow as we did.

Yes, love is and should always be the foundation of any relationship.

Yet, if that love should fade out because it is not nurtured or diverted to other avenues or partners, then even the ‘refuge’ we think we can make out of marriages, become emotional jungles and jails.

Well, I am much better today than I was when I left in 2011, and I able to share my hurtful past and learn from others too. I have discovered several networks and bloggers since coming to Belgium and I know, that the current relationship I am trying to build, is not considered a Refuge!

A poem I read on my friend Dennis blog, also hastened my publications because it was about a refuge too.

“As featured on the Divorce Magazine“.

And you my gentle followers, what say ye about such a saga?

Dare to close some doors…


Dare to close some doors...

Who loves to have those many doors to be opened and some leading to nowhere?

Well, not me and so I decided to start closing some of such doors in my life and yes both personal and professional doors.

Right here on my blog, there’s a page (Women’s Empowerment) which gets no feedback meaning what I post there isn’t what my gentle followers are looking for.

Hence I am closing that door (just did) and instead not leaving it there out of pride and all!

Life to me is more meaningful now and this way.

And to you, my gentle followers,  what’s your take?

The Preface to March 01…


Coming to Kindle stores March 1st
Coming to Kindle stores March 1st

I am aware of the anticipation and excitement building up to the dateline.

I am equally aware of the feeling to want to know some more about this mystery memoir of mine with such a tell it all title.

For the next 3 Saturdays, I will share some insight into my personal thriller of a life story.

Or wouldn’t it be the right thing to do at such a moment?

Well I thought it would and so this morning, I share the preface and thus it reads:

I am what many will call a dynamic and determined woman. I go by the three Ds of Determination-Discipline-Dedication and yes in most of what I do I strive to do it to my best.

This led me through a life’s lane of Hurts, Adulteries and Redemption as I tried to live out what I consider my 3 in 1 life. How do I understand and live fully my Spiritual, Physical and emotional life? It surely is a tough feat but we can only admit that until we strike some kind of balance to do that, we live on restlessly until we rest somewhere.

I got to a point in my life and I realized even suicide wasn’t a solution, I realized living parallel lives wasn’t a way out, I realized recognizing, accepting, loving oneself in all forgiveness and above all starting all over again and again was much better.

Think of if we had Mary Magdalene’s own memoir in our hands. Well she to me is better because it was her occupation as a ‘free woman” and yet I wasn’t for most part of my book. Most of my official documents except for my birth certificate recorded my status as married!

So what will lead a ‘married’ woman to live such a life of spite and end up ‘eloping with a kid’ leaving her 3 children behind is what this book is all about.

My Unconventional Loves narrates My Hurts – My Adulteries – My Redemption. It is My Story of Faith and My God’s unconditional love for me and writing this book is My Therapy.

I sincerely want to make My Mess My Message and My Test My Testimony. I truly hope it Helps more than it Hurts. Well this is my Alter Ego.”

 My ‘garden’ had been introduced long ago and if you want you could refresh right here or go here for an introduction to my tale.

Dear Gentle followers of mine, do read on stay tuned, share and leave a comment or two. Prepare your questions and I bet I would be cruelly honest with us all. Thank you!

 

Overcoming my fear of wearing my hearing aids in Public!


haids

l have had a hearing deficiency from as far back as my high school days. It was and it is still frustrating.

Before, the issue was that I couldn’t hear well so I couldn’t hold a conversation without straining myself out. In school, I read lips and sat in the first row and sometimes really close to the lecturers’ table. I actually preferred reading and still do.

I once went to a specialist back home and he washed my ears and said something about my needing h-aids, but there was no money to spare for them at the time.

So when I came to Brussels last year, I immediately took out an insurance and went again for a check up. This time, I was prescribed one and I knew I either got them or got lost.

I got them and was even surprised to be reimbursed completely some months later. Now, you would think with all this narrative, I should be proudly wearing them everywhere right?

Oh no,  another frustration was, I felt they were too big and will add to my ‘pity likeness’ (if such a word exist). You see, we even judge ourselves before others do and this is bad.

Now, I tried to always have a hair do that will cover my ears so no one sees my h-aids. But for how long you may ask? I needed them so badly and could not leave them home you see.

I talked about it with my Gentleman and he reassured me that people wouldn’t care and that even those who did would be glad it was me not them who had the problem anyway.

I also started seeing people with theirs and they were all so confident and happy. I had been scared that I would lose my job if my boss found out I had h-aids but oh poor me, she has never even made a remark up to today.

I remember the first time I had to go visit my friend’s family with my braids pulled back and how nervous I was but then it went well and nobody even remarked.

Sometimes I still forget those aids and then it is hard to hold a conversation and this time around, I often remove them at home and it nerves all over. I  however feel more comfortable with them and don’t care about their size and colour anymore.

A kid sister of mine back home with a similar problem was talking to me about the different types of h-aids (the BTE and the ITE) and the negative attention it attracted. I told her I didn’t care anymore.

Surely one day, I would get an ITE (inside the ear) but for now, my BTE (behind the ear)although big, was just perfect for me. Many may want one but they just can’t afford and so I am truly grateful for that.

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Does anyone have similar experience to share or just a remark to make?

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