Tag Archives: Memories

When a smile was so hard to come by…


Marie June 1991

I have looked at several of her childhood and teenage photos and not been able to find even half a dozen where she smiles…

Was it some unwritten photography rules of the era or just her life as it was then? Nothing worth smiling into the camera for? …

Ah indeed a picture they say conveys a thousand words… I stumbled on this one today and it dates 8 June 1990… O had just turned 11 years that January… That picture was my school portrait…  It is when I wrote the common entrance examination into secondary school…no comment about what was happening at home back then – inside me …

I marvel at the laxitude with which I smile today. Could smiles really have been so hard to come by then?

To all those therefore not able to smile today, know it will and can come to pass…

I am very grateful I can smile now so much and feel it and love it and love me so…

The above was taken yesterday on my way out to the Startup Grind Douala launch… I had fun, networked and all… Smiling when coming from within is the best thing can happen I hold…

Happy Sunday to all

Advertisements

Am Back and Am using His Phone…


Am trying to be safely anchored ship
Am trying to be safely anchored ship

Grief can make, mould or mare you… Take it from it I have experienced grief and its various effects… Obviously to different extents but … a recent Grief ( Ulla’s passing )propelled me to rush right back to my e-family via our communication outlet par excellence: our blogs or vlogs …

Dear world,

Am Back… I can’t say if it’s gonna be any consistent, but I know for sure Am happy to be back… I didn’t leave altogether, I stayed around reading some of my favorite blogs… But I just realise writing is part of the deal and going by the number of followers I had when I last checked, others sure like reading some of my posts… writing has equally been so so therapeutic for me, I really can’t leave it alone…

Another Grief, one of the most poignant next to the loss of my own daughter, is on another note making me currently… I never knew two years ago I’ll get to this point of smiling when I think of my brother… I think it’s because He Lives on in Me

Am using his phone since Thursday

That's Gaby's phone ontop of my fav kindle, and I put his lone selfie I sound in it on the wallpaper
That’s Gaby’s phone ontop of my fav kindle, and I put his lone selfie I sound in it on the wallpaper… his face is so swelled, probably the meds meds meds…

When he died in August 2014, I wanted so badly to inherit lots from the little he left. I was living in Belgium then, and couldn’t take back lots of his clothes or few house utensils you know… The clothes weren’t going to fit anyway, although I did resize a few and cared less wearing his big snickers… But, I so wanted his mobile phone ans I pleaded with mum then to no avail…Her own Grief was so raw I left it at that

Today, I am finally in possession of one of my priciest legacy from my brother, second only to the memories we shared of things we thought, said and did together…

I sincerely am grateful to mum for giving me my brother’s phone which was successfully unblocked and charged up after two years of non use… I have lots of him physically in my home like most of his house utensils and even beddings… And some clothes… And now the very phone he was using – and sure that on which we last spoke two days to his passing on… his call log was still there oh my …

And you gentle readers and followers, what are some of your priciest legacies from your departed ones?

Wishing us all peace, joy and love in abundance…

One of my traumatic Childhood Streets


image

That uppermost apartment was where we lived with our mum at the time. I remember vividly the day I packed my brother and I up and got our dad to drop us off there. I was bigger and bolder by then and had had enough of living with him and his wife of a typical ‘stepmother attitude’. Only my cunningness had saved us so far. I knew we were not going back there again, and although we never discussed that, I guess dad knew or never cared by then anyway.

That apartment was 2 bedrooms and oh we were a typical African family in there. Mum, kids, aunty, cousins and all. There was so much love, joy and fun until one fateful night!

image

This was our oga Landlord’s church. It’s actually next gate to ours, and opposite our balcony at the same time. Imagine the noise and action and even people you saw or who saw you! One of such people was a wayward son of his who probably escaped any exorcist powers his dad may have claimed to had.

I knew he was up to no good, and I hated the way he and his friends looked at me when I walked the street. Neither were their sounds any funny. One fateful Tuesday night, while I was in another city with my elder sister, that guy and his gang broke into our apartment at around 2 am. They even had women in their gang. They turned the house upside down and stole even food. The women tried Mum’s clothes and hats, taking whatever they wanted. It was raining cats and dogs and needless to call any police!

It was then that this guy started asking for me. He said he wanted to teach me a lesson. My dear brother who thought he could man up to this guy, stood up but immediately got a slap which sent him sleeping for several more hours into the next day.

When they left, mum knew we just had to leave that neighbourhood.

I also remember our Nigerian neighbours below with whom we had formed a family. They had lost their dad in that same apartment. All in all, it became a haunted street, and even our favourite cafeteria below, couldn’t take me back there for a long time to come!

image

So on my return home last month, I went back there to face it and purge it all out of me.

Thanks all for reading.

Precious Portrait & Pics


Precious Potrait
Precious Potrait

I have admired portraits, and I have visited Art Galleries and Museums especially since moving to Belgium. I have wondered in awe what the artists seek to represent and pass on through their work.

I get to have my own Portrait too

I didn’t think of asking my dear Pammy for a Portrait given the shape she was in. Indeed, yesterday, here is an excerpt of a mail she sent me: “I am not feeling that great so maybe one visit would be fine”. Well, I didn’t see the mail before going there at 1 pm, not that I was going to visit her only once on my last visiting day right? When I saw her, she was actually already soso and was instead concerned that I looked sad. She thought I would be happy with a portrait. I agreed to sit for one, hoping it carried her away to that ‘magic artistic world’. Em, I didn’t know sitting still wasn’t fun 🙂 At some point, Pammy had to use pens and colours to get my attention. Well, end result is the precious portrait above. My first ever, from none other but my sweet Pammy, from a hospital, in whatever condition they are kept in there!!! Isn’t it simply gorgeous? I wonder if am really that sweet and peaceful looking 🙂 Anyway, I visited Pammy twice yesterday and she was doing much better by the time we gave ourselves ‘air hugs’ before I left at 8 pm with my portrait 🙂

Other priceless pics from Bratt (short for the town right?)

Bratt by Day, wearing Pammy's clothes
Bratt by Day, wearing Pammy’s clothes

This was on Thursday, on my way to visit Pammy. I missed her in the apartment, and decided to wear her clothes. I wasn’t sure how she’ll react to that, and I didn’t call her before coming because it would have taken some gymnastics to get her response (she still can’t speak). But oh, Pammy was so happy and asked me to keep the clothes. Indeed, she invited me to take all I wanted from her closet – em that’s not feasible nor kind of me if I do so right? 🙂

Pammy's Kitchen which I had cleaned up to my big satisfaction
Pammy’s Kitchen which I had cleaned up to my big satisfaction

Pammy had been taken away in a haste, and even before then she was no longer in a position to “tidy up” anywhere. And that was over a month ago. Her first concern was how I was going to cope in there. Fortunately, I have had a small cleaning agency before and I love cleaning up. I mean, I once wrote a post about how I became a professional cleaner. I was satisfied with all I did in the apartment, and Pammy and others were glad too. Really, the pleasure is mine…

Bratt by Night
Bratt by Night

The Area girl in me again right? So I push for a night out (well up to 11.55 pm) with Pammy’s awesome neighbour. It was wonderful. Just the kind of pub I was looking forward to. The bartender cum owner, just knew everyone, and even knew someone (a Kenyan ) who knows lots about Cameroon. The female football team had just beat the Chinese in the ongoing female world cup tournament, and she thought those girls meant biz 🙂 As for the Kenyan who had to show up at 11 pm, well am sure the BMT (Black Man Time) bee stung him again and he was back in hospital 🙂

Dear gentle readers and followers, I am just so so grateful to Pam. I really really wish her so so much. Oh, if wishes were horses… I’ll be galloping all the time…