AN ISSUE OF...................................

                                                                          

With the last ounce of my will, I pressed inexorably through the swelling mass, swam through the surf of resistance until I broke through the swirling currents and touched the silky smooth, woolly fuse. Suddenly, BAM……..EXPLOSION!!!.......

When I look into the mirror, I see the macabre grin of the skull in its most charming state; reaching it reaches out to me a pale ghoul with its repulsive beam. My face used to be flushed with cheeks that were ruddy rose petals, but now they are as ashen as rain doused embers of coal. I was a robust palm oil fruit which has become a shrivelled charred kernel. The music I hear these days is the swish of the grim reapers sickle, the clattering hooves of death’s black steed crashing down the cobblestones of my soul. I sleep perpetually in the embrace of cold’s chilly fingers, the only warmth I feel on my pallet being the pillow of my tears.  The echoes of silence fill my home, no children running about, no man to call my husband (He walked). I haven’t been touched in many years, only loneliness sought, courted and is now betrothed to me. I used to walk about in a cloud of Chanel NO 5 but now, the odoriferous smog that dogs my every step is part of what has made me a hermit in the temple of my solitude. Church doors are barred to me, the law says I am too tainted to worship.  I have needle bites all over my arms yet I am no junkie, but veno-punctures required for a battery of tests have drained me like vampires. Angels in all their forms have attended to me, young, old, black, white, bespectacled, friendly, ornery, name it but none has been able to heal. Their white coats, a mockery of their shortcoming as their fingers probe and their speculums explore.  I am continually subjected to the impassive glare and robotic examination of radio-diagnostic inspectors.  My affliction has made them richer and left me poorer. All my saving and investments are gone.  Recently my breath comes in short gasps and rattles in my throat with every step. With the most minimal exertion, weakness soaks every fibre of my being, pampers me in its sauna and floods me with sweat. The latest report is that my heart is failing. Fat and back, the ugly worms of suicidal tendencies worm through the rotted wood of my consciousness, truth is, the burden of living has become too much to bear. I am on a trajectory of fatality, a derailed train on a mountain pass heading for an inevitable end. My life is haemorrhaging away, I have a primary issue amongst all these, a dozen years issue of blood……….

Then I heard about Him and there was a twist in my tale. My tragic saga turned into one of hope. He sowed in my heart the seedling of a fairytale…

Our Narrator embodies all our travails and agonies. Life is a hive of issues and they come out stinging like a furious swarm of bees and their anaphylactic shock kills.  The memories of terrible nature can also be quite long lasting. We are in a lot of ways similar to this woman, in the sense that issues can be spiritual, physical, financial, emotional, psychological, marital, relational and every other …..al. Hers though primarily physical affected every other area of her live. Issues dog our steps with rapid intensity until we run out of breath.  They make one bleed and drain life. Legion in their multiplicity….bills with deadlines, (tuition fees, hospital bills, premiums, rent, mortgage, wedding, etc) lack of jobs, unfeeling creditors, unfaithful partners, divorce, single and lonely, married and lonely, married without issues, battering spouses, mean bosses, loss of loved ones, low self esteem, racial and other kinds of discrimination, chronic debilitating illnesses, addictive habits, PHCN blackouts, terrorists, air crashes, abominable traffic, dismal leadership,  separation from God…. issues are a burgeoning list of hopelessness……

I heard about the Galilean on the airwaves on my small transistor radio, the only gadget I now own. He is a miracle worker everyone seems to say and it sparked something within me.

·          I started thinking differently; I stopped seeing death and started seeing life.  My thoughts went from sickness to health. MY PERSPECTIVE CHANGED!

·         My thoughts translated into my words, I kept saying if I could touch Him, I would be healed. MY WORDS GAVE ME LIFE AND IMPACTED MY DESTINY!

·         My words translated into action. I STEPPED OUT, went for broke, put everything on the line. I wasn’t going to sit at home and give up! I was going to get healed or die trying!

·         With the milling throng, it would be a tall order to reach Him but if I can navigate my way around to just touch the helm of his garment, I would be cool. I SAW POSSIBILITIES WITHIN MY CHALLENGES!

·         The hem of a garment is almost nonexistent relative to the whole clothing, it was a connection point. Irrespective of how diminutive, CONNECTION POINTS ARE VITAL! I found mine, what is the one you need for your issue? Remember the mustard seed.

·         Fighting through that unruly crowd was extremely exhausting but I JUST COULD NEVER GIVE UP!!!!!

·         Most times, we wait for God to touch us, but I decided to touch Him! I THOUGHT OUT OF THE BOX!!! You can touch him too with your prayer, worship, praise, gift, time, faith…..what are you waiting for?

·         Unclean humanity that I was I handled spotless divinity which I wasn’t supposed to do. The law strongly says so, but to live, I BROKE THE NORM!

·         MY FAITH WAS STRONGER THAN THE IMPEDING OBSTACLES, both physical and otherwise.

·         Loads of folks surrounding the Man, shoving and pushing, BUT I SINGLED OUT MYSELF FOR DISTINCTION! That’s the only thing that would make my own touch unique, what would differentiate me.

·         I slowly reached out, painfully stretched until MY BEING WAS A LIVING BALL OF CONCENTRATION.  All that mattered at that moment was the hem of his garment; it meant more to me than the Golden Fleece to Jason and his Argonauts.

I finally touched it, a contact so faint it seemed it did not happen but……SUDDENLY! EXPLOSION…BAM…I was zapped by a power beyond my comprehension, Zoe; God’s divine life surged through me and dried my poisoned well.

I felt like Persephone emerging from Hades womb into a spring eternal. Every cell of my being sang merrily and laughter burbled in my spirit. I WAS HEALED but more than that I felt whole. Joy percolated within me and gave me a heady high rush. The future was not scary anymore; there was a fresh taste to life.

He called me to Himself. It is actually true that the eyes are the mirrors of the soul; they were pools of mercy, seas of kindness merging to form an Atlantic of love.  His azure eyes washed me over in a river of peace.

As I left him that day, all eyes were fixated on me especially that of one of his disciples. He is quite a hunk, gosh! My blush has returned. Life is beautiful once again. I skip with gaiety into a future of possibilities…..

 Yet I hear His voice forever resounding in my tomorrow, telling me the sweetest words I would ever hear………………

DAUGHTER, GO IN PEACE, YOUR FAITH HAS MADE YOU WHOLE………………..

WAZOBIA FM

                                                 

Magic hypnotizes! Seeing creativity being displayed by someone is like watching African pear (Ube) roasting on a coal fire on a rainy day while dusk comes, tiptoeing into an eastern Nigerian village. It’s a thing of beauty to see its shiny skin swell and soften under the romancing fingers of the flames. Its luscious surface then bursts and the fruit’s natural oil oozes from its cracked epidermis with a sizzling symphony, the soundtrack of gastronomic fantasies. Out of that beautiful ulcer emerges the purplish green flesh that makes one’s palate water agonizingly in delicious anticipation of combining it with fresh farm corn roasted in its tasseled skin. This is way better than any fare the cooks of Olympus could ever offer.

To be the witness of great workmanship leaves you more emotionally satiated than a Lagosian that has just gorged on “Agege” loaves combined with Ewa Agoyin (soft beans topped with the peppered sauce recipe of the Togolese and Beninoise) and washed down by vats of pure water.

I am not really one for listening to the radio, actually I could go for years without listening to one but my wife does and heavily subscribes to Wazobia FM. She loves the station so much that if it were a dude, I would have gone about perpetually green like the “Changeling”. Truth is anytime I get to listen to this station (thanks to her), I am usually enthralled. “Yaw” (his repartee usually has more panache than the riposte of the most accomplished Musketeer) and his crew, from Mayowa (her linguistic abilities spreads sweetness across my soul like marmalade on sweet bread), Diplomatic OPJ (his caustic wit is a balm that massages the rigours out of the cramps of a hectic day) to Uzo (someone said once that he would like to have her laughter as the ring tone for his phone) are absolutely WORLDCLASS!!! Their shows are pure magic. They are like magicians bringing out different coloured bunnies from the hat of their speech centres faster than the eyes can follow or ears in this case. They could make a Roman marble statue laugh more than a hyena on laughing gas. They are veritable masters of their game, spider artists weaving silken golden threads with their artistry from their office in Victoria Island to the hearts of Lagos’ citizenry. People call in, in bucketfuls absolutely bewitched. This gifted group leave a distinctive taste in your mouth like caviar on crackers! They are that good!

The above contributed to why I was absolutely stunned last week when I learnt that Wazobia FM, the most indigenous radio station in Lagos is owned by a Lebanese. That really got me thinking.

Of course from biblical times it has been shown that the Lebanese are great business people with an eye for opportunities (Laban, Jacob’s father-in-law is said to be their father, so it’s not a surprise they have such sharp business acumen). Also it is known that Africans are not one for seeing and exploiting opportunities. But life is about learning. The British brought football and are no force to be reckoned with in the soccer world anymore because other nations now play the game more beautifully.

It took foreigners to bring our natural resources to light, diamonds, oil, platinum, name it. Nigeria’s oil was discovered by them and yet we still have to ship this oil to them for processing. Almost all the best brands in this country are owned by other nationalities, from gadgets, supermarkets and healthcare is fast joining the list. Shoprite and DSTV are South African, Peak is Dutch and LG is South Korean. In my post “a sunflower in the wilderness” I wrote that despite the thousands of radiographers and radiologist in this nation, it had to take Indians to start up about the best and affordable diagnostic center in Lagos (MECURE) and right in the heart of the most dreaded part of the metropolis. Africa has tried indigenization over the years and failed abysmally. Some great brands ended up being buried.

At the inception of it all, God initial words to man was for him to have dominion. The word dominion also means take charge. Taking charge means being responsible for the resources that God has blessed the earth with, to make things work, to bring abundance out of our world, to process the things God has made to another level of refinement.

God went ahead to make Eden and placed man in it to control the environment, and to have access to all the fruits in the garden apart from the forbidden one. We are entitled to the fruits only when you are in charge. It is of course not surprising that Africa is still carrying bowls of supplication begging for alms from both God and first world countries even though it is buried up to its eyeballs in rich materials. When you are not in charge, you can’t have the fruits and even if you do get, it will be at the mercy of the person controlling the orchard. Most times the fruit you even get will be off not juicy and shiny. This is why the owners of DSTV smile to the bank while we make do under the burden of the heavy subscriptions they subject us to. This is because they took charge of the air space and have exerted their dominion there. The opening chapter of the Holy Tome actually tells us to exert our influence in the air on the ground and underwater. We need a reawakening!

That is why we need the very first words God spoke to man to ring in our consciousness like the gongs of Big Ben rousing a groggy London at dawn……..

BE FRUITFUL, MULTIPLY, REPLENISH THE WORLD, SUBDUE IT AND HAVE DOMINION (TAKE CHARGE)!

NIGERIA, A NATION OF PARROTS.....??

                                                            
Parrots are the real deal! Aside from dogs, I love them for pets. I think it would be nice to have one sitting on my shoulder like Treasure island’s Captain Flint on Long John Silver’s, squawking out “pieces of eight”. But thing is that the ones that give us so much fun and entertainment by their fusillade of mimicries are usually incarcerated. They are freedom less.  Truth is also that the frequent repetitions could grate your nerves especially on a day your emotional fuse is short. Free Macaws fly unhampered; they are nobody playthings unlike their imprisoned counterparts.
 
I heard a song Fela sang about twenty years ago yesterday and it was saddening to note that the same things he was crying about are still the issues plaguing us today; it is just that they have gotten worse. Power, water, transport, bad leadership, etc, have been Nigeria’s perennial thorns, penetrating the heart of its citizens.


The miasma of pain and the anguish from the Dana air disaster still hangs over this nation like a cloud of putrefaction over a mangrove swamp. And the whole nation is agog with the tragedy of it all. Knowing Nigerians, the whole episode would soon dissipate like tendrils of fog on a sunny morning except for the families directly involved. The agony of losing a loved one may wane with time but it never completely goes. It is a big gash on the heart that never completely heals.


Sadly enough all we do is talk! We organize a jamboree of lamentations, participate in an orgy of sorrows, dance along in the carnival of tears, orchestrate a fete of sadness and that’s where it all ends. ALL WE DO IS TALK! The carousel of destruction keeps up its monotonous circle, the wheels of déjà vu keep spinning, we have been at this point before and here we are again. A lot of noise was made just a few years ago when we lost some stars amongst them school children and the illustrious Bimbo Odukoya. The Corpers that were gruesomely massacred after the elections have been forgotten. We talked then and nothing happened, and the same circle of carnage keeps repeating itself. We parrot away while everything seems to be going to hell in a hand basket.


A lot of hue like the bright plumage of our focus bird is made, we cry until we are blue in the face yet all we get are a few seedlings of placation to smooth a few ruffled feathers while the prison wardens in their flowing robes shake their head in amusement wondering what the whole chatter is about. They are so used to our ineffectual cacophony of bedlam, the tweets, chirps and chirrups that do no good.

Panels are set up over and over again, but at the end we realize they are just like avian parades where a lot of meaningless songs are sung. After a while we don’t even remember where, and when it all ended, if it ever ended or if there was ever any verdict/conclusion.

We revel in the sensationalism of the latest broadcast and try to out tweet ourselves like that would qualify us to win the award of the most informed African Grey. We are like zonked out drunks snoring on a bed of vicious vipers oblivious to imminent cataclysm unless we wake up real fast.


But the talk is surely enough, is it not? Passengers of Charon’s canoe feel like they are on a sun filled trip as they are ferried across the Styx to Hades comparative to the kind of blackout our nation has but it doesn’t matter so long we have enough to buy fuel into our multiple generators. New kids get wiped out like old lessons on a blackboard by the duster of malaria and other ailments that should not even kill an ant if not that we have greedy rulers who keep stuffing their maws with sweets from the national treasuries. But what is the big deal if we live in upscale areas with more mosquito nets than metal grills in “Alcatraz”. A Neanderthal shows more intelligence in deciphering the letters on the Sumerian stone than our so called leaders depict even in the reading of the alphabets, but what do we care so long they continue giving us the million dollar contracts . Bombs go off at the pace of exercise induced heart beats but don’t matter much so long it happens far away from us.


So why not just talk and retreat into our gilt edged shells, bury our heads in the sands, Ostriches of self deception. With all our prattle we have become inured, developed thick skins that makes an elephant’s seem as soft as a Vaseline lubricated baby’s bottom.


The reality should have started to dawn on someone by now that the gap is now being bridged, almost no one is safe anymore whether home or abroad. We cannot remain ornamental talkers. IT IS EITHER WE DO MORE THAN TALK OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES (SOME HAVE ALREADY PAID WITH THEIR LIVES)!!!


There was a time during the exodus of the Hebrews when they were plagued by the consequences of their sin and all they did was moan, mourn and plead. While this disaster was going on, one brother was busy grooving with a Midianite doxy perpetuating the root cause of the nation’s problem until a fellow named Phinehas took a spear and lanced the couple through. That single action stayed the hand of the plague. This hero of Israel took action instead of talking. He struck at the heart of the matter, took out the root cause of the evil but before he did that 24,000 people had died. I am not advocating violence but we have to take action until the jokers who are up there start to take us seriously. Our destiny and that of our progenies are at stake here. WE HAVE TO TAKE CONTROL!!!


Some people say we should keep praying. I strongly believe that if you are a Christian, about the most potent force you can exploit is the power of prayer but prayer is not everything. There is no better model of prayer than Elijah the Tishbite(anyone who prays down rain knows a thing or two about prayers) in the scriptures but when Israel was infested with the bugs of bad leadership, aside from praying, he confronted the king and his henchmen. King’s Ahab’s regime was reminiscent of Nigeria, spiritual darkness that could be likened to PHCN power, famine that caused economic hardship, Jezebel his wife, a terrible first lady, murdering of anyone who stood in the way of their gain like they killed Naboth and the roll call of evil goes on. While other prophets were hiding in caves, Elijah confronted these people and started a spiritual revolution that toppled them. He put some of their spiritual advisers to the sword. Someone had to account for all the bad things going on like extirpating the lives of infants on the altar of Baal.

In the movie "the Good, Bad and Ugly, someone wanted to kill "Ugly" and droned on and on until "Ugly" was able to get a vantage point of shooting at him. I never forget what he said, "if you want to shoot, shoot! Dont talk!

Allow me to digress a bit but if any of you leaders are reading this, you might not have figured this out though it is not rocket science, the airline you didn’t do anything about might cause the death of you or your loved ones, the gully in that road you refused to build might end up swallowing your soul like a Venus fly trap eats up a fly, the hospital you neglected might be the one that your sole grandchild would be taken to in an emergency before your jet gets ready to evacuate her abroad and by then it might be too late. The schools you refuse to build might raise the assassins that will have you in the cross hairs of their rifles tomorrow. Don’t be deceived, whatsoever a man shows that shall he also reap, it is a given. You cannot run away from this one.

Nigeria is our kingdom; the ruler is never more than the people especially in a democracy. We call the shots and that had better begin to dawn on us.


Elijah knew something about the kingdom of God that most of us have not cottoned on to…

“THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS NOT IN WORDS BUT IN POWER”!!!

ROBERTO DI MATTEO.....

                                                                            

I wanted Chelsea to lose! You know how the story ended, don’t you? Thing is, I used to be a blues fan. I loved the two dreaded wonders who with Van Basten helped Netherlands win the 1988 European cup. When Ruud Gullit went over to Chelsea from AC Milan to become a player coach, I naturally followed him and became a diehard fan of the blues. All through the Italian revolution that had Gianluca Vialli, Pierlughi Casiraghi, Roberto Di Matteo and Gianfranco Zola play for the club, to when it became a veritable melting pot of nationalities with the Spaniards Ferrer and Sergi as full backs, the Norwegian, Tore Andre Flo, the Uruguayan, Gustavo Poyet, the Dutchmen, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink and the goalkeeper, what’s his name now….ah ha.. Ed De Goey and until Claudio Ranieri took over with Mario Melchiot (subjectively, he is one of the best right backs in the world, who did not fully fulfill his potential) running down the right flank. Then the Special one took over, I respected his confidence and absolutely abhorred his pride, same reason I can’t abide CR7 but absolutely in love with Lionel Messi because of his humility. I turned my back on Chelsea!

The last Champions league finals will go into the annals of football history as one of the best ever. It had enough heart stopping drama to make it a Hollywood production but it was said that Michel Platini tried his best to make ensure it was a Barca, Real Madrid finals and failed. To me even a classico could not have ended better than the match we saw, nail biting tension and all. The rapid succession of classico games played recently has made them a bit monotonous for me; personally I don’t think it would have made a great final. Thing is that lots of the time in life we try to work things out with our own wisdom and strength like  Mr. Platini but if you are a Christian, wisdom should tell you that God has better things in store for us, so it does not pay to try and scheme our way through life. We should play by the rules and quietly trust God. For example if as a lady, you have changed everything about yourself just to make a guy slip a band on your finger, you are probably trying too hard, it is not supposed to be that difficult. The dude is not your knight in shining armour my sister, please walk. There is a better guy in store for you. Cheating to make a quick buck is also not worth it and the list goes on. Absalom, the son of David used every kind of manipulation and machination to dethrone his dad in his bid to become king and died in the process. Since his dad loved him so much, he would most probably have become king if patience had been a virtue of his. Machiavelli was wrong; the end never justifies the means if the means is wrong.

One thing that astonished me was the way Chelsea and its fans believed even when the deck was obviously stacked against them. They dug into the trenches and fought the fight of their lives. In life, it’s not over until it’s over. It does not matter the disadvantage you have or the hand life might have given you, NEVER QUIT, NEVER BACK DOWN, SIMPLY BELIEVE, HAVE FAITH!!! FAITH MOVES MOUNTAINS!!!

My buddy bro Emeka told me that even though the odds were against Chelsea that they had something, someone who will make all the difference, that is Didier Drogba (humble fellow he is I must say), and I laughed him to scorn. My laughter came back to haunt him and not as Casper the friendly ghost. The Ivorian turned out to be the ace that changed the game. In the game of life we all need aces even God after using all the plagues in the world had to resort to the blood covenant to break the hold of Pharaoh and Egypt over the Israelites. WHAT IS YOUR ACE??

How powerful can cards be in the game of life? After seeing The Gambit of the X-men fame using explosive cards to do away with enemies, you would agree with me that cards can be dangerous in doing a foe in, wild-cards. Against Bayern Munich, Ryan Bertrand was a wild card, an unforeseeable and an unpredictable element that helped to clip Arjen Robben’s wings. God’s a master of wild-cards. Moses was reared in Pharaohs household, Jesus was born by a virgin, veterans of war could not kill Goliath with the best of war armaments and here comes “lil” David and brings the man mountain down with a sling and a stone, ridiculous. If these are not wild-cards then I don’t know what is?

Study life! Czech studied the penalties of the Germans and came away unbowed. We all need to be students of life; this is one of the sure ways to avoid being victims. Samson was betrayed once by a Philistine filly and did not learn his lesson; he later fell for a Philistine vixen and lost his life. Understanding life helps us know the direction to face when things get kicking. It saves you from projectiles that could topple your aspirations.

Believe and invest in a dream! Roman Abramovich did not let up on his dream and invested billions into it. He came away with the grand prize!

I have been plunged into darkness before. Black and stygian, boiling and living, its maws filled with poisonous fangs, breath full of peppery mist and bowels filled with pain that stung like a sting ray until every cell of my being was marinated in excruciating agony. But even though the pain has almost being buried in the sands of time, I still remember the sweetness of the embrace I got from pals who tried to ease the pain (Dego, Nonso, Dozie, Pst Toyin, a million thanks). One of the things about that game I would never forget was when Didier gave a broken, confused Robben a hug. There is nothing like the hug of empathy, an embrace of comfort. Seriously, I have never been able to understand people who leave a wake of pain and hurts wherever they go. The bridge of relationships is one of the strongest things ever, makes that of San Francisco seem like a makeshift tangle of raffia and bamboo sticks. Let us always endeavour to reach out a helping hand, a loving hand, a hand of camaraderie.

Then of course, the Hero of the whole saga, Roberto Di Matteo! This brother makes a cucumber seem hot and sweaty. He is the James bond of the round leather world. I can almost wager that he introduces himself by saying my name is Di Matteo, Roberto Di Matteo.  He is suave, debonair and urbane, can keep his shirt on intact after a battle with a wounded lion. Dandy and cool, he led Chelsea to an unbelievable victory. I told someone recently that one of the worst tragedies in life is committing suicide; it’s an extremely stupid act, absolutely foolish. This is because the winds of fortune can blow in your direction at any minute, the fact that you seem down on your luck today doesn’t mean that your situation has been cast in stone. Ask Roberto, outcast eighteen months ago, hero today. Even when the cup was won, he did not exhibit the kind of euphoria that would make one think he never expected it. His stone cold nerves of steel showed that he knew he had it in him, so it was going to be sooner than later. The thing in life is to keep investing and practicing so that when the platform of fortune shows up, we would be ready to perform on the grand stage.

Loads of people have concluded that the Chelsea victory was as a result of serendipity but I beg to disagree. Fortune favours the brave. That victory came by sheer grits, tenacious guts, meticulous preparation, strategic planning and good management powered by an exceptional Italian. Roberto Di Matteo, I DOFF MY HAT!!!

This whole tale of fortitude and unbelievable triumph sparked off the timeless verse Paul told the Galatians in my heart and it’s been burning like the fires in Vulcan’s forge.

“BE YE NOT WEARY IN WELL DOING, FOR IN DUE SEASON, YOU SHALL REAP IF YOU FAINT NOT.”

THE AFRICAN MIND...TWO CENTURIES TOO LATE?

                                                                                                                       

One of my sons favourite rhymes is “Ring, a ring o’ roses…..”. The origin of this poem stems from 1665 when London was swept by the bubonic plague. Following this disaster was the great fire of London in 1666. In the 19^th century this great city was also plagued by cholera. All these calamities show that there was a time London was like a lot of areas in Africa and other third world countries, traffic clogged and polluted with poor sanitary methods.

First time we ever met God in Genesis, one of the initial things that we get to know about him was that His spirit was brooding (thinking, meditating). Then He said let there be light and light appeared after which heaven and earth were created out of a waterlogged inky soup of nothingness. He thought and out came an idea that led to the creation of the world. Little wonder that ideas are represented by light bulbs. When The Master of the Universe made us, his grand masterpiece, we were formed in his image to function like him.

From the era of the great crusades to the divvying up of Africa and some other parts of the world because of mineral resources and real estate (valuable concrete things), it was clear the leading powers of the world then, mainly Great Britain and France, were very interested in tangible resources. These nations got what they needed through firepower and force. That was a huge factor in the equation of world domination. The period of the cowboys and the conquistadores also depicted this, what made someone a big boy then was how big a ranch was and the number of cattle one had. This were major driving factors behind everything good, bad and ugly that came out of the wild, wild west back in the day.  Everything was driven by the material things that translated to wealth.

From the eighteenth century, the industrial revolution came on with the machine age changing the landscape of the world. The intangible knocked off the tangible from its perch and the first world countries started placing greater premium on ideas and thoughts. Intellectual property became hotter than the furnace of Vulcan. Great poets, writers, tinkerers and thinkers flourished like crocuses in the developed world like never before, igniting a revolution of revelations. Now you don’t need an army to rule or conquer the world, you just need ideas. Facebook that just finished its IPO, Google, and Microsoft are in very nook and cranny of the world without the clash of swords or a single shot from a gun, no sweat was broken. They empty the coffers of the nations of the globe making the originators of these brands richer than some countries. Men started living like the original prototype, we became like God using ideas and thoughts to dominate the earth. The city of London went from being a slum to a Mega Metropolis.

From time immemorial, the African’s reverence for his peers has always been based on how many cows he had, the number of yams in his barns, the number of wives and concubines acquired, and so on. It was all about the perceivable spawning “my Mercedes is bigger than your” and “I pass my neighbours” attitude. This is why in Nigeria we have a swollen senate that grabs everything in their path to buy a larger jeep or bigger houses or marry a third wife but cannot generate one idea to make their constituency better even to save their lives. It explains why most of our leaders are like inedible snails hiding in the shell of amassed things. They are useless to themselves and everybody. The world has moved on but we are still stuck in a rut.  Thieves and con-men are venerated so they have loads of dosh to spread around or a mansion built like a mausoleum. Even when ideas come up it is mostly how to steal, kill, and destroy negating the plan of the Originator of life. We are still far from the starting blocks, a great distance away from Gods original plan. And until we change, salvation will be farther than Pluto.

It is time to start celebrating ideas and thoughts in our continent if not, the future of Africa would remain in the shackles and manacles of slavery reminiscent of our fore-fathers who sold their tomorrow for trinkets and cowries. A captivity of the soul and mind that is even worse than the physical. It shows our nakedness to the world, brands us as cheap and will continue to make the continent serve at the feet of those who peddle ideas and brilliant thoughts.

We should provide a good environment for ideas to bloom like light sandy soil for palm trees. From our homes to our schools to the working place, IT MUST BECOME A PRIORITY!!!

A great Hebrew king looked at the beauty of the world and was awed but he knew that the visible world was a product of the invisible. He knew that it was good thinking that produces great products. The man got on his knees and worshipped, saying…………………………

 “O GOD, HOW WONDERFUL ARE THY WORKS, THY THOUGHTS ARE VERY DEEP”!!!

SIC VOLVERE PARCAS....

                                                                   

It is usually an exhilarating expedition taking a voyage down the literary seas of Greek mythology. You cannot help but be more amazed at the sights and sounds of their intelligence and imagination than Captain James cook was astounded by the beauty of the Hawaii.

Before the advent of the Greek civilization, it was impossible for earlier civilizations (Egyptian, Persian, etc) to conceive of the image of God so they created ugly monsters with different animal parts to depict their gods, veritable Frankensteins of confusion. The Greeks were the first, by having gods that had human attributes, to have any inkling that YAHWEH made us in his image even before the Holy Scriptures became rife. Uncannily enough they were somewhat aware that our King also suffered our infirmities by attributing human foibles to their gods but they could never discern that He could not be overcome by sin, He is holy beyond holiness. The Grecians practiced polytheism having gods for everything because they could not comprehend that God is everything, He is the EL-SHADDAI (The Many Breasted ONE), and He is everything in one and One in everything. Since Jehovah cannot be understood with ordinary mortal intelligence, they could not fathom that He was the God of war, love, sex, health, wine and all things.

From this rich stew of creativity come forth classic tales (which are juicier than well done prime sirloin) and everyday words like Zeus, Chaos, Uranus, Hermes, Atlas and so on. It is also from them that the Fates originated, three sisters who were said to control people’s destiny by spinning, measuring and cutting the thread of life. These ladies gave birth to the Latin spin-off “SIC VOLVERE PARCAS” (SO SPIN THE FATES) found in Virgil’s Aeneid.

The Greeks said that our fortunes in life are determined by these sisters and we have no power to influence them whatsoever. We cannot help it because what is written is written. It is about our stars, the patterns tattooed on our palms from the beginning of time. Do I hear you concurring, we are predestined to become who we are and everything that happens to us is in accordance to what has been predestinated. Please save us the drivel!

Forgive me for bursting your bubble, there is nothing like that.  WE ARE THE FATES!! We determine what was, what is and what will be and that is by the CHOICES we make every single day. Life coach extraordinaire “Anthony Robbins” in his bestselling “Awaken the giant in you” said DECISION DETERMINES DESTINY!

From vanilla to coffee, lilac to orange, Ferrari to Porsche, life is full of options and it is those preferences irrespective of how inconsequential sometimes that ultimately determines how our fates turn out. Boarding an airline, taking a particular route which are usually no brainers have resulted in the life or death of some people.

Some women give more thought to picking Victoria secrets lingerie than they give to choosing a life partner and by doing so they spin the frail thread of the marriage, measure it to last for a while with the tape of battering and abuse and maybe after two years, she cuts it with the scissors of divorce. You chose your own fate my sister. It was your choice.

Maybe you have a thriving outfit but you never come through for your clients (like most Nigerians do) and they stop bringing you business until you shipwreck on the shores of bankruptcy, you carved out your own destiny my brother. It’s not the fates. You predetermined with your lack of integrity that you were going to have only a decade of financial success before everything would come tumbling down on your head.

If you have children and you don’t spend any time with them because of your high flying career, and you think giving them all the latest gizmo and bathing them with dollars without discipline is what makes you a great parent, then you’ve got it all twisted. If you end up with delinquents on your hands to tomorrow, it was as a result of your choice and your greed. You called the shots. You are the fates; you spun the threads, measured them and cut the destiny of your children with the scissors of carelessness, greed, drugs, alcohol, name it.

Truth is, this message confronts us every day but our nonchalance prevents us from seeing it even if it sinks its teeth into our posteriors like a rabid bulldog. We usually miss the point. For example, in the critically acclaimed “Devil’s Advocate” featuring, Al Pacino, Keanu Reaves and Charlize Theron., Keanu made a choice for a swanky life over the values he once held dear and like William Butler Yeats said, “things fell apart” for him.

We cry everyday about how terrible Nigeria and our leaders are but we chose the leaders. From the emancipation of America, the French revolution, the Bolsheviks uprising until the recent Arab spring, men got tired of their situation and decided to make a change. They knew that continuing to live under oppression is a choice. Their destiny was in their hands and they fought for it. For crying out loud, the oppressors are usually a minority. The black outs we suffer, the looting of our national coffers, the area boys littering the streets and harassing all and sundry. It is how we want it.  It is crystal clear to even a bat that we made the wrong choice last year, but we have a chance to make amends with our vote in 2015. Will we take the chance or watch it slip by as usual.  IT IS OUR CHOICE!  WE ARE THE FATES!

A great Hebrew leader knew this and when he was about to die following an impactful life, he called his people and gave them a choice. He said “choose you this day, whom you will serve. As for me and my house we will serve the lord”. He knew their choice would determine their future and that was exactly what happened. They chose the wrong side of the coin and came under very harsh subjugation by their enemies for thousands of years.

Lot chose a lush land and wasted his generation; Abraham chose his slave girl out of impatience and started an enmity that still rages today within his household. Yeah, the consequences of our choices stretch like a sea of desert sand from one generation to another even to eternity. Amazing, isn’t it?

Making a choice is like initiating a never-ending nuclear reaction which can produce useful energy or cause destruction of gargantuan proportions accompanied by radioactive fallout which affects the people around you for years on end sometimes.

Esau chose pottage, Demas went for the world, Judas settled for 30 pieces of silver, and Samson embraced Delilah. WHAT WILL YOU CHOOSE?

The best way to choose is to choose The One Who Was, Who Is and Who is to come in our decisions. He is there to assist if we can only reach out for his help. Engage the help of the One who knows tomorrow, who can see the future.

TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING. IN ALL YOUR WAYS ACKNOWLEDGE HIM AND HE SHALL DIRECT YOUR PATH……………………………………………….

20-0: THE END OF AN ERA

                                                          

I CRIED! Mind you, I did not boohoo like a child whose lollypop had been stolen by a bully, neither was it a torrential downpour akin to a desert storm. No, the tears slowly filled my eyes like sweet drops of palm wine filling a gourd, and then the gourd broke and filled my being with intoxicating and overwhelming emotions. The tears over flooded the banks of my eyes similar to a mangrove stream during the rains and clung to my lashes like lead weights which refused to drop. I felt like an overcast sky that was indecisive about shedding its watery load.

Wrestlemania 28 was sensational, to me the much hyped “once in a lifetime” fight between John Cena and the Rock did not meet the mark even though both men gave it their best. Something was missing that I cannot place my hands on. I personally think the Rock has gone past his best wrestling days. CM Punk and Chris Jericho were also cool but the matchup that stole the show was the one between The Undertaker and Triple H. It presumably might turn out to be Undertaker’s last fight hence the tag, “the end of an era”. And in the battle the Undertaker got his twentieth Wrestlemania victory, making it 20-0.

It was this match that made me cry. Over the years, different matches have made me go through a range of sentiments; I was deliriously euphoric when Ricky “The dragon” Steamboat beat Machoman “Randy” Savage in Wrestlemania 3, miserably sad when Hulk Hogan lost to the Ultimate Warrior in Wrestlemania 6 and completely heartbroken when Shawn Michaels defeated Bret “The Hitman” Hart in Wrestlemania 12 and anytime Jeff Hardy loses but no bout has ever made me cry.

Hold your horses bro! Before you brand my post as jejune for becoming schmaltzy over a scripted and stage managed sport, please hear me out. This is not necessarily about the sport/entertainment but it was about the performance of the two men. All the matches that night were most likely scripted about but these two men stood out over others like the Andes over mole hills. They gave that match their best shot. No one could have asked for more. If it turns out to be The Taker’s last bout, then no exit in the annals of wrestling can be more glorious.

Potential, purpose and Leadership Guru Dr. Myles Munroe always says that we should die empty, meaning we should live to the best of our abilities, give everything in us to this life so that we would not add to the wealth of the cemetery by joining hordes of others who led a mediocre life and carried the potential inside them to the grave. The greatest missionary that ever lived said he had been poured forth like a drink because before he died, he had emptied himself of his purpose of being. Jesus before giving up his ghost said “it is finished” and out of him gushed out his life juice, liters of blood. The Undertaker and Triple H gave their all, threw everything into the grueling mix, blood, sweat, name it. They had left footprints in the eternal sands of wrestling history which the winds of time would never erase. That day it was not about victor nor vanquished, it was about a sterling performance. And performance is what separates the sublime from the mundane.

Life is scripted for everybody, as a great Hebrew king made us know. He said all the days of his life had been chronicled by God ever before he was born. So, since the pages of our lives have been written by Originator of life, what now makes the difference is what we put in.  Just like in the movies where everything is written before the acting but some thespians separate themselves from the pack by giving all they have and go ahead to win Oscars like Heath Ledger in the Dark Knight (I keep citing that).

As those two future WWE Hall of famers carried their battered and bruised bodies from the ring that day to the thunderous applause of 78, 000 plus fans within the stadium in Miami and millions all over the world, I cried when I thought of how I will exit the grand stage. Russell Crowe in the Gladiator said “the things we do on this earth echoes on the shores of eternity”. Will I exit in a blaze of glory like Elijah on chariots of fire? Will the witnesses both present and those gone before applaud my performance? Will the King give me a standing ovation the way he did Stephen the martyr showing that I had done a good job and that He approves?

Will I exit the squared circle of life being fully persuaded that I had worshipped God with my all? Would I make the hall of fame in the golden corridors of heaven? Would I have my wife’s and my children’s commendation that I was the best husband and father they could ever have. Would I have used my talents and my potential to the hilt? Would I have managed my finances judiciously? Would I have made history, given and left a legacy for the world I would be leaving behind? Will I be able to say this like Paul the Missionary……..?

AS FOR ME, I FEEL THE LAST DROPS OF MY LIFE ARE BEING POURED OUT FOR GOD. I HAVE FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT, I HAVE FINISHED MY COURSE, I HAVE KEPT THE FAITH. FINALLY THERE IS LAID UP FOR ME A CROWN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS………………………..