20 Years In Memorial

God is amazing!!!

I cannot believe it has been 20 years since Daddy was taken from us in a very brutal and gory way.

Then, when it happened, I thought our lives were over. Looking back I now understand what it means to truly rely on God daily for provision, for sustenance, for direction, in fact, for everything.

Then, I understood what it was like to cry and feel your heart broken in pieces, literarily. I never believed that someday we could move on without the heaviness associated with the pains of losing a loved one.

To be honest, I still cry sometimes when I think about him. I cried during my MSc graduation because I would have loved him to be there. I cried during my wedding because I would have loved him to be physically present. Last year I remember crying while driving as I thought about how he was separated from us. Sometimes I get sober when I am having a great time with my husband, and I realize that my mother is all alone without the company of a lover and best friend.

 

 

This post is just to say "Thank You Lord!" In these 20 years You have proven, times without number, that You are the Father of the Fatherless and the Husband to the widow. You know how to turn mourning into dancing. Your promises of never leaving us nor forsaking us remain tested and true. Thank You.

Finally, I thank You for the "September Gift".  You that promised is faithful.


You can read about how he was separated from us here.

Lesson from Egusi Soup

Every year six million children die from malnutrition before their fifth birthday...

More than 800 million people go to bed hungry every day, 300 million are children.
Of these 300 million children, only eight percent are victims of famine or other emergency situations. More than 90 percent are suffering long-term malnourishment and micronutrient deficiency...

http://cozay.com/

Such headlines did not move me. Even if I did give to causes to help save poverty, it was most likely because I had something to give away, not out of love and compassion. It is hard to be empathetic, especially when you are not the one wearing the shoes.

One weekend, I prepared fresh, delicious egusi soup (melon soup). I had 3-days old egusi soup in my fridge but I was not about to “contaminate” the fresh soup so I decided to pour the old one away. Just when I was about to throw it into the dustbin, a long buried scene surfaced in my memory.

It was Friday evening. There were little remains of the 6-day egusi soup, which I kept for myself and my mother who would be returning late from work that Friday. When she got home and asked for soup, I realized that the soup was too small for both of us to share. I poured water to increase the quantity. It became too watery. So I decided to add garri to the soup to give it weight. In my naivety, I did not know that the garri will coagulate in the hot soup. By the time I was to serve the soup, it was no longer soup. It was hard garri coloured with egusi and leaves. Garri-Egusi cake – in summary.

It was not edible. Mother and I went to bed hungry that night, looking forward to Saturday when we will have the next meal…

I stood by my cooker and wept. I looked at the soup I was about to throw away. If only mother and I had seen something like that then, we would not have gone to bed hungry. I wept as I realized how easily I forgot where I was coming from. I realized how wasteful I had become. I realized that there are indeed hungry people in our world. I realized that I (or any of my family) could have been part of the statistics if not for the love of God. Suddenly, my heart feels compassion for those in need.

Beloved, nothing is a waste, especially food. What you do not want, someone else will need.

Do take out time to find out whose life you can make a difference in with your food, money, clothes, or whatever you have, no matter how little. There are ministries, foundations, NGOs where you can sow into. As as you sow, may you reap a thousand fold and lack no good thing, in Jesus name, Amen.

Do not despise the days of your small beginnings [Zechariah 4:10]. And though your beginning was small, yet your latter end would greatly increase [Job 8:7].
Have a blessed weekend ahead.

Please join me in celebrating 16 years in memorial…

In Memorial

Of September 11. As America is in memorial today, so am I. Only that mine is 15 years. 15 years of losing a man I took for granted. Every time I have to reflect on the incident that took place today 15 years ago, I just weep. There has been no maturity about it. I think of the manner, the untimeliness, the words I wished I said, and the things I should never have said or done. Now I know it is never too early to appreciate a loved one or to say, “I love you”.

I recall this day 15 years ago. Before the crack of dawn, the deed was done. Leaving Daddy, who was so full of life, as nothing but a lifeless corpse. In just a matter of seconds. I wondered if morning will ever come.

The Incident:I remember vividly well that night. It all started by 1a.m. We were woken up by the shrill cry of neighbours who were being attacked by armed robbers. Dad, who never minds his business, picked up a whistle and started whistling for help. The whole area where we lived was at alert. I guess everyone bolted their doors and started hiding.

I went to Mom’s room where she was with Boy. He was awake and needed a change of diapers so Mommy asked me to do it. Then I heard voices under the window of her room. Someone asked in a deep voice, “Wey dat man wey dey disturb our operation?”. I panicked. “Mommy, they are around the house,” I said. She quickly ran to Daddy and told him. Daddy said we should all enter one room and hide while he deals with them.

We went to the biggest room in the house. Dota 1, Dota 2 and Dota 4 hid above the closet so that if the men want to rape, there will be few to rape. Me and Boy hid under the sheets of one of the beds in the room cos they assumed I was the only one who could keep him quiet. Dota 5 and Dota 6 were so small that you could barely find them hidden under the bedsheets of the other bed. Mom paced the room as Dad carried his cutlass to fight the men.

We heard the shattering of the back door and in no time, they were up to Daddy’s room. I heard nothing else. After 10 minutes of the longest waiting period of our lives, we heard the men say “Omo, let’s go!”. We waited for Daddy to come and call us out. 5 mins passed. He had not come. Dota 4 said she heard something like a gun shot. We told her to shut up, that she only thinks of bad things. Mom told Dota 2 (the tomboy) to go and ask Daddy if we could come out.

*Sniffing…* I have never heard Dota 2 scream like she did that night. It was shrill and laden with emotions. Then she ran back to the room to call Mommy. She could not talk. Her lips were moving but no word could come out. She was panicking frantically. After Mommy held her, he managed to voice out, “Daddy has been shot”.

We all ran to his room.
The door of his room had traces of blood and human flesh splattered on it. I was still carrying Boy. We were totally speechless when we all walked into the room. Dad was lying on the floor, on his student’s scripts, in a pool of his own blood. He was trying to utter something which could not be heard. He tried to reach out to us but we were too scared to touch him. His face held deep pain and anguish. His left arm was scattered by the gun shot of a double barrel. That is how we all stood crying “Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t go.” We were confused and helpless.

Till date, we never knew what happened between him and the armed men.

Those were the days of no gsm, nitel lines were for rich people. Dota 1 and 2 went to call for help that came 20 minutes later. We watched as Daddy was tied in a bedsheet and taken to a car. Mother, Dota 1 and 2 went with them. Our neighbour (not the one being attacked) came and took the rest of us out of the house. One of the kids prayed for us that night.

Mommy, Dota 1 and 2 came home without Daddy. Then it dawned on us that we were fatherless and mother was a widow. It happened to real people not in Nigerian movie.

Traditions and Customs:
We were 6 girls and 1 boy. Boy was only 1 yr 9 months old when the incident happened. Dota 1 was 17. Tradition and Customs (T&C) said the girls should not go to school but go and live with Dad’s people as housegirls. T&C was to save Dad’s money to train Boy. T&C took all that belonged to dad leaving us homeless. Luckily, mom got a job in the university and we were given a small house to move into. T&C dragged mom to court several times within her one year of mourning. Salt inside pepper. T&C made us hate where we come from. T&C made us shave our hairs for one year and insisted that we should not wear wig.

Looking back:
Then, I was completely angry with God. I did not know Him. I simply turned my back on Him and said “Where was God when this happened?” But today when I look back, I see that He is the ever-present God. He is a Provider. Imagine that Mommy’s breast began to flow with milk so Boy had nutritious sustenance while we struggled on how to eat. He provided one day at a time. He could cause people to miraculously give when we desperately needed it (my 1st school fees after was paid by donations from my classmates). Imagine that I had a scholarship in university because someone liked my native name. Imagine a lecturer telling me not to pay for any of his textbooks or handouts. I had them free. Talking about what God has done during those 15 years, is a novel of its own. God, I thank You.

God does not take life – He gives life. This took me 15 years afterwards to understand.

I know how much progress there’s been in the lives of Mother, Dota 1 to 6, and Boy. And I know the best is yet to come. As I reflect on the incident that took place today 15 years ago, I just weep, yet comforted by the knowledge that there is a Father who will never leave me.