Mum's Cooking

The very first time I traveled out of Nigeria I was married with a child, long before that I had traveled to several places, though not physically but I traveled to other lands nevertheless. Actually my first journey physically leaving the shores of Nigeria was when I crossed into Cotonou to buy my first car, but I digress again. I want to tell you the story of travelling through the cooking of my mum. Her kitchen was our airport, the dishes she churned out was the landing port in whichever country we went.

Liberia Road Accra Ghana with Total House in the background

She opened up our palates at an early age to varying dishes, as long as it was called food and eaten by people and she learnt it, we ate it when she cooked it. Grew up drinking kunu long before I knew which part of Nigeria it came from, yes I finally knew it was from the northern part of my dear country. So soothing when the sun is high up blazing hot and the ground seeks water to quench its thirst. Kunu did magic, refreshing and filling. Koko was a bit difficult for me to adapt to but plenty sugar did the trick, please no questions I told you I have a son already! She took us on a flight to Ghana, banku with groundnut soup was the flight we boarded, Saturday morning was specifically earmarked for Banku, my people the bottom pot was the sweetest! That burnt part that is crispy!! Oh! Wait have you tasted banku with a little of fufu mixed into it? Kai the smoothness, add a little okro to the groundnut soup, heavenly. Donkunu is one food I do not understand why they eat it with such peppery stew, no one answered that question, then I discovered groundnut soup was a col accompaniment for it and the puzzle was unraveled for me, none of that pepper that makes you whistle continuously and seek cold water to appease it while it takes up the room in your stomach meant for the Donkunu.

I traveled far and wide through my mum’s cooking, she made me realize that we are interwoven and there is no reason to look down on anyone irrespective of his or her tribe, tongue or race. She thought me, we have something to learn from each other. God bless Mojirade Theresa omo (daughter of) Adeyemi aya (wife of) Oyedeji.

IT ENDS TOMORROW

I have been away from this blog for a long while and it’s been quite an age I penned a poem. Below is one I wrote today. Let us make the most of life. It’s a gift and it is all we have got to make the world a better place. Enjoy, drop a comment I will appreciate it.

Oyedeji Aderemi 

IT ENDS TOMORROW

Times of fright

(c) @greatise

Worries and fear

Twist and turns

Hand of fate

Future so bright

Present so gloomy

Past best forgotten

Memories linger on

The breath we breathe

The words we speak

The time Spent

The duties shirked

The frightful dreams

The powerful thoughts

Unmatched

Strange bed fellows

This is life

It ends tomorrow
@Greatise

Low, High

This is the lowest I have felt in years. It seems everything is in slow motion, each day simple walking into the other, I am tired I think. I tell myself maybe a break is all I need, just a moment out of this routine that has become a life. It is almost as if I am stagnating. Reading has become an arduous task. Music keeps me company daily, my brain simply lets go at the sound of the music floating from my speakers. It’s a slow life, short one yet the days come too quickly for one to lay adequate grasp of it. It seems it will soon end, everything will stand still! A hand unseen, will press the pause button, just to review the present situation and make additional manoeuvres or changes to favour some and put some in dire strait. It is life, that’s what we call it, that is what it simply is, LIFE, a four letter word inundating to most people. We come and go, we simply disappear like the smoke from the fire, into thin air. No trace of the path we traveled left behind, soon the people who sang our praise simply move on to another one, where their bread will be buttered. It is as simple as that, quickly forgotten, as long as your life as not made another one better.

Life is short, very short, the pursuit of money, comfort and that which the heart desires to the detriment of our health, makes me wonder which is more important? It’s all vanity, says the wise one. Vanity upon vanity, so live each day free of scuffles and anger, do the best you can and know that at your death the work will continue.

The world is in a continuous loop, never taking a pause to mourn the dead or the dying. It’s simply the ones affected that will bury their dead and soon they continue their life. The death of the dying becomes memories to be remembered at such a time when they will need the help of the dead, if he/she was alive. Such is life deal with it.

Remember you are not all in all, you are nothing but a mere mortal who needs the help of fellow humans so, spread the love, lend a helping hand, a hug or smile could help that lone soul through trying times.

The inexplicable joy of putting a smile on the face of my patient is worth it all, the reason I wake up daily to walk into this consulting room not caring the unending bottlenecks I have to fight to give my patient the minimum obtainable care.

So life is worth living only if you have discovered the joy of making someone -random someone- happy every day, just to make the world a better place.

Thank You My Friends

Today I was going through my friend list on Facebook and I came across the name of a classmate of mine back in primary school Tunde Brown, I was about sending him a message when I read through his time line only to discover he died last year, May His soul rest in peace. So this a piece trying to say thank you to friends I have made over the years I have spent on earth, some of whom I have not spoken to or seen in decades. This is dedicated to you all from Sherryville Junior School, Ogba Grammar School, Effective coaching centre, St. Theresa Catholic Church Ifako, Obafemi Awolowo University, and to friends I have made on twitter and everyone out there whom we have met and spent days together.

Looking back over the years I have spent on earth, I have come to realize friends are treasures to keep. They come into your life and leave indelible marks, difficult to overlook or ignore as the months rolls into years, as night becomes day and days gradually give way to night. They became family, counsellors and confidants. Friends who have become brothers, sisters, aunties and uncles. So this is me saying thank you to all my friends, right from my nursery school days, they who made me comfortable and welcomed when I felt like fish out of water; willingly shared their snack with me when my food was thrown into the bin!

Back in primary school (Estate Primary School), I met these great guys who went hunting with me for grasshoppers during the lunch break, we shared our porridge and whatever our money could buy and that coloured sugary water that we called ice cream, we saved our lunch money to buy on our way home! Ekana Gowon, baba dudu and sausage, the cold pito we relished inside the hot sun while walking home.  To many faces and names I cannot remember today, but the days we spent together I have not forgotten. My classmates back in Sherryville when I returned there after a brief stint in a public primary school, Wale, Bukky, Femi, Biola, Tosin and many more to list. Those days when we were interacting we never knew the impact we were having on each other life, today years down the line I remember lessons I learnt from you all, from how to treat a lady (lol) to standing up for myself against bullies.  I am grateful. There was this incident I slid a metal ring unto my finger and I was unable to remove it, I panicked and my cousin came to my rescue, but that finger was bruised kai! I was spanked for getting a metal ring stuck on my finger. Back in secondary school, my first days were interesting. I won’t forget Bukky, she took me around and helped me establish a footing in the school. From learning which part of the school to go fetch my desk that will be carried away whenever it rained, where to buy food during break time and which part of the school to dodge lest I be bullied by the seniors ( thank God I did not attend a boarding school). Friends who gave me their notes to copy, who took their time out to teach me what they had learnt while I was not around. Friends who we walked home together after close of school on a daily basis (Kingsley, Taofeek, Mustapha and Femi). The friends I made in Ablaze for God youth Army, the list is endless but I am glad I met you all, you left me with memories I will forever cherish. Thanks to the Efere family, you guys thought me a lot! The trust your parents expressed in you guys was heart-warming, God bless your mum won’t forget her in a hurry. Happy memories are made when you have friends who accept you with open arms and never stop trying to put a smile on your face. Bernard Oyoyo I wish today I took up the challenge to learn a musical instrument during those days. Thank you room 141 faj guys, you made me appreciate music at another level entirely, Seyi and Bass lines in songs!

Thank you thank you Great Ife Guys, you all too numerous to mention, my classmates (OAU Med school class of 2007) who took time out to watch my back and care for me, I am eternally grateful. I am forever glad to see you guys anytime I have the opportunity. My life is a tapestry of the inputs each and every one of you have had over the course of my life. I have become what I have become because you guys decided to share your life with me. To the friends who have departed this world to the great beyond, my gratitude goes to you. Funke Adegbesan Nee Elusogbon, I cannot forget your friendship, it shaped my life in no small measure. And the friends I have made on twitter, you guys rock!!! I am blessed because I have friends who care, wish I would be a better friend to you all, and wish we will never grow apart with the years, alas we have to, that we may give our friendship to someone out there who needs it.

“True friendship multiplies the good in life and divides its evils. Strive to have friends, for life without friends is like life on a deserted island…to find one real friend in a lifetime is good fortune; to keep him is a blessing”- Unknown

“Friendship consists in forgetting what one gives and remembering what one receives.”- Alexander Dumas

“Friendship is the hardest thing I the world to explain. It’s not something you learn in school. But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything.”- Muhammad Ali

Finally, “Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I am glad for that.” Ally Condie

IZUMA, THE STRONG ONE

Sometime in July last year during that wet season, when our roads are easily flooded some washed away. I was stopped over in Okene on my way from Abuja were I had gone to bid a friend farewell. A friend who resisted joining the brain-drain bludgeoning this country of mine daily. I logged into my twitter account and there I saw a tweet from Pa Ikhide, he was in Nigeria, not just in Nigeria he was right there in my ‘backyard’ he came to see Papalolo who had taken ill but sadly passed on a year later after fighting every inch of the way, to stay alive. I was happy and immediately sent him a message I will be coming to see him where he was lodged and that was how I came to know Izuma, a woman that represents dedication, hard work and unending faith in the good that can come out of the most impossible of situation. A true representation of the African woman’s dedication to her husband, yes this is about Izuma not about Pa Ikhide who is now Papalolo 2 with then passing of the great Papalolo. Throughout the months of Papalolo’s illness she was by his side all the time, day and night, through thick and thin and sometimes the weariness was written all over her face but never for once complained about her own health. It was all about her husband and doing all she could to see he gets better. The day he was able to stand with some support where days you saw Izuma’s face wrinkled with smile, dispelling the despair of yesterday. The burden she bore during those months cannot not be paid back in monetary terms. The ups and downs, the pains, hunger the fear, that moment of joy, the disappointment and sometimes the anger at the whole situation. It is an emotional roller coaster taking care of people who become dependent on you for activity of daily living, they take over your life so much so you wonder why you are still alive at their demise!

So here is me saying thank you to Izuma for giving all she had in those months, daily fighting every inch of the way. This is a tribute to a woman who represents one of the key things we have going for us in our traditional African culture-family support. 

This contraception palaver sef!

Contraception is the process of stopping a man/woman/couple from achieving pregnancy until he/she/they so desire. It is a really a means to an end not an end in itself. Family planning is the use of contraception to space the children and regulate the number of children while trying to ensure the couple enjoy sex.

In our society the women are the major users of contraceptives, and the permanent forms of contraceptives are majorly done by women. Now before I get ahead of myself there are various types of contraception methods, like condoms -male and female.

The female condoms are not so popular, a discussion for another day- intrauterine device -popularly called coil- daily pills, injectable contraceptives and the permanent one that involves ‘tying’ of the tubes in women and in men.

So during my ward round in the postnatal ward, (a ward where women who just gave birth are admitted) a woman asked me what is the best from of contraception since she had four children before she mistakenly got pregnant again, so I delved into the various types of contraceptives and their merits and demerits, I felt that was an opportunity to educate all the women present there at once so I won’t have to repeat it all over again at each bedside so I stood in the middle of the ward and delivered the lecture.

The interesting part of the whole scenario was when I got to the aspect of male contraceptive, vasectomy and I told the women it is preferable because it’s easier and the woman does not have to have ugly scars on their abdomen, since we don’t do minimal invasive surgeries. Suddenly there was an uproar, I was shocked I wondered what I said that caused such response, a woman said “oh! So the man can be sleeping around abi? No o! na me go do the operation, make I dey sure if he dey play the field at least one day one day the girl do get belle!” I simply asked her if she does not trust her husband. Her response was not any less shocking, “abeg oga doctor you be man, you wan tell me the thing no dey do you like make you do am with another woman sometime if no be say you dey fear she fit get belle?” I laughed and told her that’s why there are condoms to protect against impregnating the woman and contracting other sexually transmitted disease.

 Another woman in the ward responded, “Which condom, una men dey gree use am? Una go complain say the thing no sweet like if you no use am, no be so I take get belle again, abegi talk something else.” Obviously I said, you women don’t trust your husbands, if not you won’t be against them doing a vasectomy since you have completed the family.

I asked them if they feel their husbands don’t get scared when they the women tie their tubes, if their husbands are not afraid of them ‘playing the field’. Another woman retorted, “una men think say na only una the thing dey catch every time to do, e dey catch we women too but if we do the things una men dey do, dem go stone us and drive us out of our husbands home, na because we fit control ourselves.” One of the women who had been quite all this while, asked how she can convince her husband to accept her using contraceptives, she has been to the labour room four (4) times in the last 6 years and she is tired!

And that opened up stories from other women, how they secretly used pills and aborted pregnancies because their husbands were not listening to their cries of being tired of getting pregnant or their need to rest awhile and pursue a career too.

I told the women when they are coming for the postnatal clinic they should come with their husbands so we can discuss the various issues and better educate both of them on contraception and benefit of family planning.

My people the first couple I saw was not funny o! the man said na him wife dey wan do every time so she go fit born plenty pikin so he won’t have enough money to spend on another woman outside!! I looked at the man and asked if he had given his wife any reason to doubt his fidelity?

I await the response to that question till date my people.

#LASGIDI

So this morning I stepped out quite early in the city of Lagos and its 5:30 AM, patiently waiting for the bus I was boarding out of town to get filled with passengers. Thirty minutes later I started seeing Nursery/primary school buses plying the road with children already in them. This is disaster waiting to happen! At six in the morning? Where are they going? When will they close from school and arrive home? Do they get to see their parents at all? For them to be out in the school bus by 6:00 AM what time did they wake up? Did they get to eat breakfast? How well rested are their brains? Gradually they lose their childhood in a city that is never slowing down. Dirt and muddy puddle of water on the roads. Everyone doing all to maximize profits, house rent skyrocketing, yet the youths in the villages keep pouring into the cities seeking wealth that’s as elusive as cure for death. Everywhere is choked, noise pollution the fumes of generators that are the perpetual source of electricity hanging in the still air. I feel choked each time I come into Lagos, I flee at the earliest opportunity. Spending productive hours sitting still in a traffic you know not when it will move. Spending two hours for a journey of 20minutes. It’s absurd that people still head to Lagos city to heck out a living.

Lagos is not meant for the frail. Healthcare delivery is warped. Gradually Lagos is becoming more and more hostile to the poor. However I feel sorry for the ‘rich’ their life is as tough and filled with heavy traffic, polluted air and all just like the poor people.

Weary faces stare back at you late in the evening after the drudgery of the day, sleepy eyes with dropping eyelids meet your gaze in the morning, seated slumped in the seats of public transport. You can hear some snoring away too tired to be bothered, while the ladies apply make-ups in the moving vehicle. Fast food thrives, mama-put’s pot is in full swing of activity from the crack of dawn. It’s all a race, a survival of the fittest, while waist lines increase inch by inch and chronic health disorders lurk in the corner waiting to pounce on the oblivious Lagosian. In fact the fittest soon because unfit, the body gradually formulates a letter of resignation which will be acceptable to its owner and when the owner ignore its warning it throws in the towel at an awkward moment.

The Lagos of my childhood is since gone, the Lagos that I see today is hostile to the growing child.