My Book Of Bible Stories

The Bible, brought to you by AA. Sister, leggooo…..

@Abyurla: *Adjusts clerical collar*

Thank You Jesus! Have you said it today? Ok, lemme rap to you guys real quick about Ruth. 

There was recession in Judah, Naomi's hubby & her two sons moved to Moab along with her because she won their visa lottery. Hubby died shortly after

Both sons got jobs and soon married Moabite babes - Orpah & Ruth. 10yrs later, both sons died *sigh* leaving Naomi & both wives behind…no kids yet.

Naomi began to reflect & soon enough decided to move back home...she had heard on CNN & also read some blogs…the recession had finally abated. Praise God!

At the end of the mourning period, the three set out for Judah. While waiting to board, Naomi decides to send Orpah & Ruth back to their families.

Dunno o, maybe Orpah had a new admirer and was hoping this would happen, but she first formed shantgree but eventually carried her kaya, hugged Naomi and Ruth and left.

Ruth ADAMANTLY refused to go. She stayed with Naomi. She prolly just didn't think it right to abandon Naomi after all the hard blows the poor woman had suffered. Loyalty

But Ruth said, "Don't force me to leave you; don't make me go home. Where you go, I’ll go; and where you live, I’ll leave. Your people are my people; your God is my God.  Where you die, I'll die, and that's where I'll be buried, so help me God-not even death itself is going to come between us!”

On arrival, someone must have recognized Naomi because before they could even pick their checked-in luggage, a picture of her & Ruth was already on LIB [Linda Ikeji Blog] & LLB [Ladun Liadi Blog]. Hahahahahahaha….

A “friend” later sent her the links to alert her. She read a few of the comments, sighed & added hers "Don't call me Naomi; call me Bitter ..." Awwwwwww [Naomi means Beautiful, Pleasant in Hebrew] Thanks Google.

Ruth is super-sensitive of the fact that Naomi may not be able to fend for them so she goes job-hunting amidst stares & yimus.  She got one. Yaaay!

Turns out Ruth's employer, Boaz is her late hubby's family & is a good, caring, honorable & rich man. Ruth is also decent, diligent & obedient. I'm sure this also exists in Nigeria; the culture of the nearest male relative marrying the widow exists in Judah. Naomi recognizes an opportunity.

 Naomi tells Ruth what to do to set the ball rolling, “Take a bath. Put on some perfume. Dress up, go to the threshing floor...lie at Boaz' feet!”

If na babes of nowadays, na her looks & awayian accent Ruth go dey take do sprespre up & down, no go even hear wetin Naomi dey yarn am again. Hahahahahahaha….

*Naomi pulls her right ear* “I didn't say u should go and twitpic you & him while he's asleep o. Wait & see what he says. He'll tell u what to do.” LWKMD!

She went. When she got there, she said, “I am Ruth, your maiden; take me under your protection. You are my relative & in the circle of covenant redeemers, you have the right to marry me”.

If Ruth thought her mother-in-law was a little crazy, she didn’t let it show. She simply replied “I will do whatever you say.” And she did.

Ruth, sharp girl! Boaz, sharp guy! Before you could say GBAM, him don begin follow due protocol to marry Ruth. Court wedding, twitpic, DP, honeymoon

Ruth born boy [Obed].  Trust the anonymous commenters to get busy:
“e don reach 9mths already?”…
“ah Naomi, God don turn your sadness to joy”…

Ruth didn’t even send “haters”. Little did she know she was going be so great...King David's grandma & part of Jesus' family tree. Learn people! 

I dedicate this story & say a big God bless you & kudos to the Ruths & Boazes out there - loyal, diligent, committed, good character.

Pls share lessons learnt & ponder: Ladies, would you act like Ruth or like Orpah? Guys, would you act like Boaz and not take advantage of Ruth?

Thank u for being such an attentive audience...Till another day when I bring you anoda tori...Pastor AA(Yummy) signing out.

Hilarious piece yes, but the strong message therein cannot be mistaken. Are you a Ruth, tenacious and loyal, destined for greatness and courageously worked towards it; or are you an Orpah, flaky and flighty at the first sign of hardship?

If I’m totally honest with myself, I am 80% an Orpah than a Ruth. I get too caught up in whats happening in the moment to see the long term benefit of situations. Today, I ask for His grace. God knows I need it!

Thank you, AA. 

Follow her on Twitter @Abyurla. You’ll be glad you did!

A Voice From The Grave: RIP Ogochukwu nee Onugu



Survived by Husband and her two Children

This letter from the grave is a MUST READ. Please read it here

"I am gone forever. But if one woman, just one woman will learn from my story, then maybe i woukd not have gone in vain!"

One of us.....

Chioma O said: Our society wont just allow people to take decisions for themselves. This eye service does not work because of "What will they say?" Who are THEY? Are THEY with you when you recieve the beatings and the torture? Domestic Violence should not be tolerated! Run for your life!

Waga said: For those of you who remember Ogochukwu Onugu from University Secondary School, Nsukka 1993 set. This is a sad reflection of how horrible some men can be. I am ashamed to call myself a man after reading this. God help us all to choose the life partner He made for us.

Dana said: Nice, quiet girl. I remember her very well. Women please listen and run while you can. May her soul rest in peace!

Domestic Violence Should Not Be Tolerated. Women, empower yourselves!

Life's Many Curveballs

Long post alert. There, you’ve been duly warned!
I stood, staring into space in front of the dressing mirror, wondering how & when things got this bad. Where had i gone wrong? Which step in the grand plan for our future did i miss? Where did it go awry? These questions i pondered as i stood there, sad, angry, lonely, hurt. I made to turn away from the apologetic image of myself in the mirror...and caught sight of the tray of food Obim hurled at me in anger as he stormed out of the room some minutes ago! And that was when the dam broke free. I wept!
I wept like i had never in a long time, like i never allowed myself to. I cried for all those nights i hugged myself tight and rocked myself to sleep, praying things would get better between us. I wept mostly because i miss the man i married, the man that was my pillar of support, my partner, my best friend...the man i consider gone forever. Most importantly, i cried because in some twisted way, this was entirely my fault.
Life didn’t use to be this chaotic in my household. Once upon a time, we were the subject of envy amongst our peers. Hubby had a great job as Senior Manager in his Bank. I wasn’t doing poorly myself. We had everything we wanted: well-paying jobs, nice house in a posh estate and the most adorable 6 year old! Life was great. Sigh! The curveball life throws at you when you least expects it…
I came home from school run that fateful day and there was Obim’s car parked at home. Now this is strange because he’s never ever home at that time of the day. Well, almost never except when he’s ill. But he was fine when he left for work this morning, i reminded myself, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that just washed over me. I entered the house and met him sitting on the floor in our bedroom, head hung, with hands on either side of it.
“Honey, are you ok?” I asked. He said nothing. I asked again and he mumbled some gibberish.
“Huh? Are you sick? Did someone die?”
Then i remember my mother-in-law has been feeling poorly...
“Is Mama....?” I started to ask.
“...was fired” He interrupted mid-question.
“Huh?” I went again, this time in confusion. “Fire? Your office caught fire? How? When? Was anyone injur....”
“I WAS FIRED”, he exploded!
I nodded, once, twice, calmly...almost too calmly [Shock will do that to anyone]. Yea, i totally heard him the first time. A burning building just made more sense at the time.

Happy Mothers' Day...To You, You & You!

Mama mama...
Nne nne [x2]...
Nne m oma...
It was my sister-in-law’s birthday a few days ago and as we were heading out that evening to celebrate her day, her nine year old son presented her with a gift bag and said, “Happy Birthday, Mummy, from my brother and I”. The gift bag held a purse within it. She was so surprised and as i watched, she hugged her child and he hugged right back and they held on right so for nearly 20 minutes, just appreciating their relationship. Here is a son saying with that gesture, “I love you, Mummy. You are best ever thing since PBJ” and here’s a mother totally overwhelmed and appreciative of this love, freely given! I think a tear slipped past me...
Happy Mothers’ Day, Rockstar!
In most churches, a week before Mothers’ Day, kids are asked to bring gift items or flowers to church for Mothers’ day celebration. They are asked to ensure their parents got the gifts ready and in some cases where a child forgets to bring one to church, freshly plucked flowers plucked from with the church premises are given to such a child. During thanksgiving and with the kids dancing scatter-walking to the tune Mama Mama..., they are asked to look for their respective mothers in church and present the gifts them. It is not the grandest of gestures but what’s more moving than a child, in the presence of God, telling his/her mother “Thank you for the nine months you housed me in your womb; Thank you for being my mother”? What’s cooler than that? My colleague Abby used to watch this from the sidelines as a single and wished she was one of those mothers. She is a mother today.
Happy Mothers’ Day, Abby and to all who today will be their first Mother’s Day celebration.
It’s not easy...
Nine months of discomfort, lugging another human within you wherever you go...
Longs hours of labor...
Sleepless nights checking temperature and tepid-sponging...
Long hours in the day worrying about why this baby hasn’t poo’ed in almost a week...
Moments when you cry alongside the crying baby in your arms that you just showed that you would not spare the rod and spoil the child...
Days when you second-guess yourself and worry about whether you are doing a good enough job by your kids...
Always worrying...
Constantly worrying...
Worrying about your child’s physical, spiritual, emotional, psychological, educational wellbeing...
...but it’s totally worth it...
When you get home from a hard at work and she cannot wait to hug you...
When she learns to say Mummy...
When he says “Thank you for selling your Hollandis to send me to school”...
When he tells you in confidence “Mummy, you are my life!”...
When he brings home awards and scholarships and does your heart & ovaries proud...
When he doesn’t bring home any awards but still does your heart & ovaries proud...
To every single mother i know, and Nwabugo and Nwahdee, your struggles and sacrifices and love will not be in vain. You’ll reap triumph and success and you will reap love where you have sowed it!
Happy Mothers’ Day!
If you ever get to read this Mummy, I love you to bits. I might never tell you or show you enough but i don’t know where we would’ve been without your love [even though our behinds felt most of that love], your support, your sacrifices, your encouraging words but most especially, your prayers on our behalf. You made us who we are today and we will always be thankful. I only hope i can be there for my kids the way you were there for us. You have always been, and will remain, my role model. God will continue to bless you for us. Happy Mothers’ Day, Mum!


13...And Pregnant!

Househelp Chronicles was birthed because I needed to vent out my frustrations from dealing with the numerous househelps I’ve had in my employ. But as much as I vented, there were lessons learnt from every single one of those helps. 
Today’s HouseHelp Chronicle was sent in by a good friend and blogger Olaedo of Olaedo-GoldenThoughts. Do check out her blog and enjoy this chronicle…

I remembered her today. I had only been married for a short time, and pregnant with my first child, when she came to live with me. She was the first househelp I had. She was thirteen [three years ago] and was about starting secondary school.
The first day my aunty brought her to my mother's house from the village, my sister wondered aloud at her big breasts. She had a small body but was definitely busty for someone that young. She had a bit of a tummy too. I commented on that. My mum said that it was possible that she was malnourished. She was of the opinion that by the time the girl started eating right, she'd fill out properly. I asked my new help then if she had started seeing her period. She answered in the affirmative and said that she had just finished a period before leaving the village with my aunty.
She came back with me to Lagos. She seemed smart and was very hard-working. All she wanted to do was quickly take care of her chores and sleep. I told her that she could watch the television whenever she was done with her chores. She would come join me in the living room and in a few minutes, sneak off to her room to sleep.

House-Help Chronicles [Part III]

My house help left today. 
Before the nay sayers and anonymous vermin get their knickers in a tight bunch, let’s start from the very beginning, shall we?
The first time I saw her in November of 2011, the day she was brought to my house, my spirit was all kinds of uneasy. Chic is a full-breasted [kegs for days], flat ab’d, skinny 21-year old wench. She came sporting this long-ass weave [most definitely a 22-inch weave]. Add her snooty i-am-not-available-please-keep-your-distance aura and I seriously feared for my marriage. I hear guys like those hard-to-get i’m-not-available types. But because I was in dire need of a house help, I employed her…with a caveat: she would be on one month trial period after which we would both decide whether or not we were good for each other. I was also buying time for myself. One month was also enough time for me to score another help, just in case. I was not prepared to let this envisaged bee-magnet stay longer than was necessary in my house.
She passed the one month trial period with flying colors. Chic is sensible, a hard worker, proactive and very organized. She knows what to do and when to do them. The kids are feed and bathed on time. I didn’t need to prompt her. And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t have to come back from work and go straight to slaving in the kitchen. In fact, I come home and food is literally running after me…
 “Mummy, can I bring your food?” This is even before I clear free of the front door
“Mummy, are you ready to eat now?” This is usually 5 mins later, as soon as I enter my bedroom
“Mummy, your food is getting cold. Should I bring it now?” 10 minutes later
“Ok, Mummy, can I at least bring water for you to drink?” 
And I would murmur within me, “Chic, do you plan to poison me? Fi le!"
But I loved that she asked and I adjusted her salary accordingly. Other helps I’ve had in time past couldn’t be bothered…whether I eat or not is none of their business. This chic was good to me.
Second week in February, she informed me that she would be going for her aunt’s burial in Calabar come first week in March. I know her aunt died; the drama played out in my house within the first month of her employment. What I didn’t understand was why she would want to travel all the way to Calabar and for an unspecified period of time. She couldn’t say when she was coming back and if she was coming back [I sweated a bit at this part]. Not again! I was a little angry but I made arrangements for a replacement. At least, she had the good sense to give me three weeks’ notice.
On Sunday March 4th, I finally realized why she wanted to leave.
This morning as she was prepping to leave, I called her and asked what her plans were. She said she’ll call me as soon as she was done with Calabar.
“So you are coming back?” I asked, very hopeful. She said yes.
“Good”, I said “But I meant what are your plans for your pregnancy?!”
Her head snapped up…and slowly dropped.
“I’m not pregnant”, she murmured.
“How far long are you?”
“Four months”, she answered.
“Who is the father?”
“My boyfriend”
“Does he know?” She had told me about this boyfriend of hers when I interviewed her.
“Yes, he does”
“What’s he saying? Are you guys planning on getting married?”
“He’s not saying anything…”
I sighed. Children having children. Children of nowadays just don’t get it. I was still in my early twenties when I became pregnant with Chets. I was married oo but I was scared shitless of that pregnant state. It was even worse when I had the baby: what was I going to be doing with this tiny creature? And I had this baby enveloped in the comforts of a marriage where i didnt have to worry so much about money, with a husband, mother and mother-in-law that loved me. Now imagine being 21, impregnated by a boyfriend that doesn’t give two f**ks about your present state, with parents that gives less than two about your wellbeing, jobless and nearly broke! Scary shit. I told her all this. Told her abortion was not an option. Considering how far gone she is, it would be a health risk. Also told her being a mother is definitely not a walk in the park. Your whole life changes. What happens to her dreams and aspirations...whatever they are? Or maybe being pregnant at the stage in her life is her dream? Who knows? But hard as it might be, if she gets it right, it would be totally worth it. I mentioned all these.
I doubt she heard anything i said.
I have a sneaky feeling she’s not going to come back. Not now that i know that she’s actually pregnant. Maybe she was planning to go to Calabar, remove the baby and come back? Who knows? But i made sure i drummed this into her ears: Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, ring me when you get back from the burial. In fact, ring me if you need anything. Baby clothes, a helping hand...ring me.
I hope she does right by that baby. I hope she does right by herself. But i’m not entirely hopeful. That chic has plans! Considering how composed she was, she definitely has plans.
I do miss her. Who woulda thunk it?


Its been a hectic 2012 and we are only 2 months and a few days in.
Three weeks ago, the hubby was ill. Men never fall sick, have you noticed? But when they do, nsogbu di! Yours truly was the Nurse.
Two weeks ago, Zi was ill [my last post]. Inflammed tonsils, ear infection and hyperpyrexia a.k.a high fever [i love messing with you, Foluke]. Yours truly was Nurse and Pharmacist.
This week, Chets decided it was his turn. Gastroenteritis. Food poisoning. Why won’t these children have normal ailments? Headache or bruised knees? Why? This time, yours truly was Doctor [i seriously doubt Lagoon Hospital has one], Nurse and Pharmacist.
Yours truly is actively a banker. Yours truly is a hustling business woman. Yours truly is a pharmacist in her spare time. Yours truly is a size 14 starving dieting to get to a size 12. Hungry. Angry. Too angry! Angry at the hubby: why is he never in town when i need him the most? Angry at the kids: why won’t they try and keep their meds down? Like seriously, its bad enough they are keeping me awake in the night, the least they could do is get well quicker!!
Over-utilized. Under-appreciated.