Chika Jonah Writes

Blog

  • When the hustle gets hard and you loose yourself in the process? Get inspired!

    When i look at this picture i see a girl at ease, with a smile so bright, so free spirited and so relaxed and carefree. I really don’t know what must have been going on in her mind or the challenges she must have been facing at the time of the picture but all i can see now is a girl that is enjoying the little and simple things she loves doing and is obviously happy about it. So what do you see?

    * * *

    Last night by ten i closed the store and locked the gate. Afterwards i turned to go back inside when i decided to just walk round the compound. With my hands in my knicker pocket i walked slowly. When i reached where the cars were packed my legs stopped and my body followed. I knew why; it was because my mind was no longer in motion. i was looking hard at the blue Toyota jeep packed outside. It was not the jeep i was focused on, it was the car bonnet. I was not just looking at the bonnet but i was remembering the moment i spent doing God knows what on it. As i recalled every moment a lone tear fell from my eyes…
    I remembered the girl…
    I remembered the girl in the picture…

    I couldn’t forget how bright and silly she could be. Her favorite place was sitting on the bonnet of the car on a dark chilly night. She loved sitting there holding a paper juice and savouring its sweet taste. She loved lying there; resting her head on the glass and counting the stars with her fingers. She loved giggling at the moon when ever she remembered the African night story of a grandma who lived in the moon and always carried a log of firewood on her head. She was a girl who called nature her sister, called every bird in the air her brother and called every flower her friend. She was a girl who loved taking a long walk on a lonely path and enjoyed every moment. Sometimes she took the weekend in search of other straight long path roads she hadn’t yet explored. She was a girl who looked at every mannequin she saw and gave them sweet names to identify them and when she sees them the next morning she would call them by their names, and when they didn’t answer, she would laugh so hard, remembering the fact that mannequin’s couldn’t talk.

    What happened to her? Where had she gone to? How did i lose her? I asked myself as i slowly leaned by the side of the car door. I missed the girl in me. I couldn’t remember when last i really relaxed and did those silly, fun things that were a part of me. Now it was just reading, writing and watching movies which i loved a lot, but those silly, awkward and weird things were the things that made my eyes so full of life, those were the things that made my smile wide and big like the deep blue sea.
    I couldn’t recognize myself. It was like that part of me never even existed but deep inside i knew it did. It was just that something took over and clouded it.
    Thinking hard i knew what overshadowed that personality. It was the Hustle.

    The hustle is hard and we tend to lose ourselves along the way.

    At a time when Nigeria is in recession, things were scarce and hard and my responsibilities increased. I work ten hours a day for six days a week and on Sundays, after church and tons of meetings, chores and errands all i want to do is jump on the bed and take a nap at the end of each day. The little time i had in between was for reading few pages of a book and writing along side. I had no time of my own. For me it was time and increased responsibilities. I had no time to give my self which made me pay less attention to the things i love doing and in turn made me lose a part of myself i never wanted to lose in the first place.

    For Grace an acquittance of mine, it was family problems. When i discussed with her i saw the bitterness in her voice and the dreams she kept hidden.

    She said ” Every time i wake up instead of waking up to appreciating a beautiful sun kissed morning, i wake up to a call of gregarious expectation and need”.

    Every time they asked for something it took a part of her away. Every time they needed something she lost something of her own. Her hard work and hustle never benefitted her. She never got to enjoy it. It was always for her brothers, sisters and parents. It was a sacrifice she had always done for a long time and have kept doing till date. It stole the excitement in her life. She was always indoors after work, hardly socialized and hardly did anything for herself. Grace said it’s been a decade since she ever did what she loved doing or did any of the silly playful activities she did as a child and wanted to continue doing.

    Its funny how one day you are the person you’ve always wanted to be and the next day you find that you’ve been broken into bits and pieces and a big part of you is missing.
    One day your life is whole and the next day a problem presents itself before you and all your sweat, and tears is focused on eradicating that problem or challenge, that you lose your self in the process.

    I always used to pride in the fact that i knew how to keep the balance. This picture is a reality check that i hadn’t kept the balance in a long time.

    I want to work, hustle, keep my family, handle my responsibilities, enjoy my relationships, read, write, play, have fun, play and play again. All at once. Tied together in a scarlet thread and held bound together as one.

    Yesterday night i made a mental note to bring back that girl in the picture. My life is incomplete without that part of me.

    What have you lost that part of your self to? Can you maintain the balance in your life? Or are you struggling with the same things? Have you found the balance? And what was that thing that made you lose that smile and the free spirited part of you?

    Share them with me in the comments section. Don’t forget to click the follow button and receive notifications of my blog posts.

  • A memory of a lifetime

    “Ebubechukwu get me a cup of tea”
    “Okay Dad” i replied rushing off to the kitchen.
    “Here it is Dad”.
    “Good. Thank you”. I turned to leave when he said “Wait! Come closer”. I did just that
    “Ebubechukwu never forget to serve a cup of tea with a saucer and a tea spoon no matter where you are. Okay?”
    “Okay Dad. Noted. Thank you”.
    I quickly walked back to the kitchen smiling, thinking of how cool my dad can be.
    “Chika watch where you’re going and don’t fall”, Mum shouted behind me. “And what have you been doing?”, She asked.
    “I just served dad tea”, I answered.
    “Did you rinse the cup before doing that?”
    “Yes mum”
    “Good. Not just the cup, but rinse every dish and utensils before serving”, she said sternly.
    “I hear you ma”. She walked back to be with her husband.
    “Gosh cant this husband and wife stop lecturing me at every chance they’ve got”, i muttered to myself and walked straight to my room.

    * * *

    “Daddy where are we going to?”
    “Somewhere. You’ll see when we get there”, i nodded still trying to figure out what was going on.
    “Did you pack your writing materials and note pad?” He reminded.
    “Yes i did”
    He finally found where to pack after twenty minutes, we came down and walked to the front
    “Ebubechukwu this is the place”. I looked up and found the tall building by the side of the junction. It was located properly at a very busy area.
    “What I’m i supposed to do here dad? Finally speaking up after staring at the long building.
    “You’re here for your first basic IT training” he said smiling at me.
    “Wow!”, i exclaimed as my eyes grew wide.
    “You start today. Resume every morning by ten and leave by two in the afternoon for two months”.
    “Two months?” I asked obviously irritated by how long the training would take.
    “Any problem?” Dad asked looking directly into my eyes.
    “No” i said quickly. I cant disobey my dad and not especially when he looks at me like that. I was still scared that it was too early to do this. I was just twelve years old and as much as the training would do me good, i still wanted to play and enjoy my holidays. But its my dads wish and I’m sure its for the best.
    Five hours later i stood staring at the kitchen thinking of what to eat after coming back from my training class when mummy entered the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
    “Thinking of a fast food to prepare. I’m starving” i replied groaning.
    “Hope you learnt something in your training today “
    “Hmm” i said slowly.
    “Don’t take this lightly Chika, this is a good step for you. Your dad has given you your first step towards independence. While that is good always work hard and remember there’s no short cut in life. You work hard you eat fat. Do you understand?” She asked sternly.
    “Yes Ma”.
    Must every discussion be a lecture, i thought to myself as mummy left the kitchen. Then heating the pot on the gas i smiled finally. Thinking of how different my parents were yet they were the same in many ways. Dad was always lecturing with his deep baritone voice that command a kind of authority you wouldn’t want to go against and mum was always shouting her lectures in a way that even when your ears are closed you’ll still listen and adhere to them just to get her to stop talking.

    * * *

    He was on the hospital bed for months been treated of diabetes and high blood pressure. Every day we were attending to his every needs and it was never easy seeing him in that ill state. I watched him closely and i was confident that he would be alright. One time i even smiled and said “Dad when you get stronger I’m sure you’ll tell us every thing we ever said or did around you”. That was my faith. I believed that he would bounce back strong and healthy. After some weeks we saw signs of recovery. We were all glad and relieved that soon it would all be over. Soon our life would be back to normal. Soon we would be home taking a breath of fresh air and not the air of sickness and drugs surrounding the hospital.
    I went for my clearance for a few days knowing that by the time i come back Dad would be home. Than my phone rang a day to my clearance. “Hello, Chika”
    “Yes. Hi”
    “I’m sorry to inform you but we just lost your dad….”

    Every thing stood still. Like a bolt of lightening it hit me so hard…i couldn’t move…the phone dropped from my hands…i sat staring into space. I couldn’t find any strength or light, only darkness. My eyes were burly…my hands were shaking…my legs got stuck to the ground…and i was there for what felt like an eternity.
    Then suddenly i gave an earth breaking scream. I kept screaming for an hour till my voice cracked and when i had no strength left in me the tears rolled down. It just kept pouring without control. I cried till i had no tears to cry. Days past by and i was still numb; stressing my eyes to reach out to my tears but found none. I had shed them all. I couldn’t make sense of anything, one minute he was getting better and the next minute he was gone. Gone forever. I was angry at the God i had faith in, angry at the prayers i prayed and blamed myself and my so called confidence and faith in God. Even when i got home. I looked hard at my mom but there were no words to say. I left the faith, refused to hope and stayed away from friends. Of what good were all those things? I asked my self. My room was my hiding place and i lived that way for months but when i saw my mom everyday i saw something else. A new hope…

    It was extremely hard for mom. He was her everything. I couldn’t fathom what she must be going through or the battles that waged in her heart. Her sisters came home to help in the beginning and they were truly helpful and supportive, and when they left, something changed. Mum started shifting chairs, rearranging the living room and the entire house and cleaning the store. It was like she woke up from a deep sleep. When i asked her later her answer was ” This is who i was when your dad married me and this is who I’ll continue to be even after he’s gone, he may be gone but I’ll continue from where he stopped. I’ll protect all that he lived for, all that he worked for and all that he longed for”. I was perplexed by her answer and i admired her zeal and strength. She drove us down for the funeral, worked so hard to put everything in order. She fought with the world to protect us. Fought with the society to keep her integrity and principles. She kept us fed and refreshed. She kept her faith alive and kept her fire burning.

    I saw her tears when we failed to meet her expectation.
    I saw her eyes so withdrawn when she felt lonely.
    I saw how happy she sounded when she heard i and my brothers voice.
    I saw how tired she was after the stress of the day.
    I heard her frustration when things were not working well.
    I heard her encourage her self every minute of the day.
    Not once did she become weak. She remained strong and unwavering. She was the true definition of a hero. When. I saw all this i wanted to be more than what she was, so i worked hard to restore my faith, confidence and friends. This time i felt God closer. I was happy for the first time in a long time.

    It was Dads death anniversary yesterday and i remembered how long it had been. What a great man he was and how mum had been a great mother and father to us in his absence. That was when i decided to do something. Mum turned fifty, five days ago and i pondered on how little we’ve done for her and how long it had been since we celebrated anything. We’ve never even gone out to a bar, or a restaurant or a cinema or even a party since dad left us because we had no zeal to celebrate anything. But with mum turning fifty i knew it was time to create a beautiful memory. A memory that would make her forget the loss of dad. A memory that would make our life filled with joy and laughter. So i organized a surprise fiftieth birthday house party for mummy. Our first party in five years.

    Immediately she entered the house the shock and excitement on her face was irreplaceable. It was one in a million. I couldn’t trade it for thousands of naira. Since on the tenth, two days ago, after the party, she hasn’t stopped talking about the party. She keeps praying for her children. This is i and my brothers gift to her. A happy memory of a lifetime.

    These are my brothers exact word:

    My heart just turned 50 this week. I see a lot females mostly online(never in real life) talking about being feminist I get pissed off. Women like this with little or nothing grind out something for themselves while carrying the whole family in our country. Our mothers, aunties, sisters who have to work twice as hard in real life are the feminist the ones we should worship there feet. God , the universe, everything protect the two people for me. I will give anything.

    …

    Dad was the little Ebubechukwu’s hero and mom is now the Chika’s hero.
    He taught me to be independent and she taught me to believe in my capabilities.
    He taught me to create opportunities for myself and she taught me to work hard to keep those opportunities.
    He taught me how to build my world and she taught me how to build my home.
    He taught me that life is good, fun and beautiful and she taught me that there was a bad, cold and evil side of life.
    They taught me every thing and more.

    I struggled with publishing this post for the past two days; not because i don’t want to but because its a part of me that I’ve kept deep and hidden for a very long time for fear that if shared, those memories would no longer be mine. I wanted it to be sacred and to be untouched. But now its not all sad because I’ve got something new. Now i realize that, that pain and loss brought us a gift. A lifetime of chances. A chance to appreciate each other more.

    To all parents who took good care of their kids and showered them with all the love you could ever give we celebrate you.

    To all parents who survived all hardship and struggles to see their children happy but couldn’t stay alive to see them blossom. We celebrate you and we know you see us from above

    To all the fathers who worked hard for their families and waited to walk their daughter to the alter but never got the chance. We celebrate and love you and you’ll forever be in our hearts.

    To all women, mothers, wives, and to all women who have been termed widows, orphans, single mothers and handicapped by circumstances and yet still stood strong, fought hard and came out on top. We celebrate you and we applaud your strength, strong will and sensitivities. And we say you you are the real hero’s.

    To those who have grieved the loss of a dear one. Are you still sad? Are you still in the dark like i once was? Have you found the light?

    You can share them with the readers in the comment section and encourage someone. And if my experience has encouraged you drop a comment, like and follow my blog post.

    You can also send me a mail at nwannaebube@gmail.com i wait to hear from you

  • Romantic ‘How we met’ stories that would inspire you to love 3

    High school love

    LATE 2003

    He came through the gate looking good and nervous. He didn’t know how this visit would turn out to be. It was a long awaited visitation he had promised and planned for so long. Now it was time to go all out and carry out his plan. She was a pretty and petite girl and he couldn’t wait to see her. When he asked he if she could date him, instead of giving him a yes and no answer, she insisted he come over to the school to visit her; Maybe she wanted to introduce him to her friends or brag about him and possibly show him off to anybody she wanted to. So he indulged her.
    After meeting her, on his way back, right before leaving the gate something happened. He saw me for the first time. I was just a big sized little girl in a printed school uniform, just starting my senior year in secondary school. At a time when nothing else mattered except obeying your parents, acquiring knowledge and getting good grades. At a time when i knew nothing about boys or men; I was merely a child who was starting senior year and feeling all grown up when obviously i knew nothing about the ways of grown ups. At a time when the freedom of a girl child were being limited and children were never exposed to learning more. Parents and families were there to stop children from having friends, going out, dressing up, meeting people and acquiring more knowledge. Every child was expected to stay in their room after school each day ( it was typical of the African Nigerian Family).

    I was sitting with other classmates discussing over break time and had no idea that he stopped in his track and observed my every move, the expression on my face, the movement of my hands, my laughter and so on. To him i was like a vision from his fantasies. The sound of the bell broke our conversation, so we all stood up to go back to the classroom and that was when i finally caught him staring at me. It was scaring but i quickly glanced at him and left immediately.
    He totally forgot the other girl and focused entirely on me. He found out where i lived and began sending people to talk to me. Every one he sent to sweet talk me into accepting him went back with a bigger rejection. I got irritated, i couldn’t stand it anymore “couldn’t this man just allow me to live my life? So he’s looking for a girl he’ll date and keep a tight grip on. And I’m sure he wants a property not a person” i thought bitterly. This thought always made me disapprove him.
    I had a whole life ahead of me. I wanted to study more and enjoy every moment of my youth; an age i had not yet attained, yet i fantasised about how i wanted my youth to be; lots of traveling, going on girls trip and spending time with friends. What about my dreams and visions? What would happen to them? The fear of loosing my dreams increased my resolve.

    Towards the end of my second senior year in secondary school his cousin spoke to me. It was an intense conversation that opened my eye as to the kind of man he was. The depth of this man who fought to have me at all cost. When he told me about all there is to know about him. I believed him because i knew they were both good friends and brothers. But i wanted to know more. What was it about this man? I became so curious and inquisitive and told myself that if he is as good as they say then I’ll offer him my friendship as an opportunity to know him more. I marvelled each time i wondered why he was so serious about me. I offered him a hand of friendship and he took it. That was our true beginning. Every little thing i learnt about him was refreshing. I enjoyed him and he was such a wonderful person that i started developing feelings for him. Feelings beyond my control.

    My greatest fear vanished when he made no fuss when i got an admission into the university, although i already knew how good and kind of a person he was, still every little doubt i had disappeared. I was truly grateful to God for such a man. I studied two years in mass communication and he stood by my side never letting go and never holding me back. It was such an amazing feeling. I got another admission to study Economics for another four years and i went for it with him beside me every step of the way.

    I cried so much and nothing could hold them back. I was happy to be pursuing my dreams, but i knew it meant our future together would take a step backward. I was so sad for us, for what we would have to endure. But somehow i knew i had no reason to worry as long as he is by my side
    There were times when we thought we wouldn’t handle the pressure. Our families couldn’t wait for the big wedding (as long as he is from a good family and he is ready, marriage follows with no room for dating. That’s the typical African Nigerian mentality) Most people were waiting for us to fall apart. Some people thought we were just crazy to depend fully on each other . There were always problems but each problem made our relationship stronger. We choose to resolve every problem not go separate ways. We’ll cry and hold hands, we’ll pray about every single thing. Every problem brought us closer together. Time may have not been our best friend but we sure did stand strong at the face of time.

    In December 2013 my third tear studying economics in school, all i wanted was to spend the rest of my life with the man who gave me wings to fly, who shared my dreams with me and waited for him. I had so many things i wanted us to do together. I didn’t want to waste anymore time so we dragged each other to the alter and made our vows.
    Every moment since then has been so beautiful. “When you love that person you’ll want them to fly, not hoard them or want them for yourself only”.

    We’ve come a long way from 2003 till now. From when i was his fourteen years old high school crush and dream girl. Its been sixteen years and I’m glad he never gave up on me and i him. He is my everything; my first love and my first partner in this journey of life.

    “Love is everything in 2 Corinthians 13:1-8”
    “For love to work it must bear all things, believe all things, hope in all things and endure through all things together”
    Not one person but Together