Dr Myles Munroe Changed my Life

12 years ago one Sunday morning, I chose to stay home from church for some reason and it changed my life forever. After my parents left for church, I remembered I had a video cassette my Uncle Yakubu from Tom club (Teenagers' Outreach Ministries) had given me. I pulled it out and slotted it in thinking it would be a boring message but I could hopefully feel less guilty by watching it.

I saw Pastor Myles Munroe that day for the first time and when he began to speak, one of the first things he said was, 'The greatest tragedy in life is not death...but life...without a Purpose.'

That day, this God's General changed my life! I watched that message over and over till my parents got home some 4hours later! I even sat my dad down and made the Prof watch the message too. And my dad said at the end of the message late that afternoon, 'I wish I had heard this forty years ago.' Guess what, my dad was exactly 40 years older than me! So I understood that I had a rare opportunity he had been denied. Here I was 40 years earlier learning that I had to above all else 1; Discover and fulfill my God-given purpose in life and that 2; To understand the purpose of a thing (or person) you had to go to the manufacturer (God), and 3; that 'Where purpose is not known, abuse is inevitable.'

And so I began to write again, poetry and prose and music. I completed my degree and sought every opportunity to polish my gifts and today I still write because of what I heard that fateful day. It marked a turning point for me, basically shifted all my paradigms. And I remain eternally grateful for it.

Rest in peace Pastor Myles, my dad talked about you till he went on to glory 6 years ago and I am sure you guys will exchange a hi-five over there when you cross paths on the streets of gold. My comfort are from your very words, 'The greatest tragedy in life is not death, but life...without a Purpose.' And boy! Did you fulfill your Purpose! I hope I do too. I will certainly spend every waking moment working at it. May you and your dear wife Rest in Peace, till we meet to part no more. Adieu.

Life of a Proud Naija Graduate; Road One

The different roads in my great University were popularly called by numbers. And the most famous of these roads was Adesoji Aderemi Road a.k.a. Road One. This is because, this basically was the road that led you into school. Road One spans all the way from the majestic school gate into the body of the campus. Now, I had many things I loved about my school but I must say, Road One was my earliest love on campus. 

First, Road One was full of the promise of majesty and awe. It was very wide, smooth and bordered by well-groomed, lush and verdant green lawns on both sides. The in-bound and out-bound lanes were separated by this same nicely clipped lawns and you had tall street lights all the way down. And the streetlights worked! Not very common back home.

One of my first impressions of this long road was of smooth and wide-sweeping twists and curves that hid what lay ahead from you. Yes, you knew great Ife lay ahead but it was just out of sight, hidden maybe around that next corner? You caught a glimpse of a hill here, a tower there, but you just couldn't see the school straight ahead, like a shy but mischievous bride flashing a promising shoulder here, a timid knee there. And finally, as you approach the end of the road, like the conclusion of a giant game of hide and seek, first comes a glimpse of the sports complex on your left and before you can take in the wide lush fields, students playing games, gisting or holding meetings in the field, you sweep around the last bend in the road and it's like the very breath is sucked out of your lungs!

Suddenly, three of the greatest structures on campus dramatically lunge out at you; the sprawling Amphi theater to your left, the School library to the back in the middle and the tall stately Senate building to your right. The first time I caught sight of this view fourteen years ago, I remember I gasped with wide-eyed wonder in the car. You just never get over it. In the middle, right before the library lies the green lawns of the beautiful park used for photography called Motion ground. Road One brings to mind words associated with my Great School like Learning and Culture. It was just the perfect way to get your mind set to partake in the intense academia represented by the Library, the cultural and social heritage represented by the Amphi theater and Motion ground and of course never forgetting the eventual goal of leaving with a good degree in hand represented by the Senate building.

You know while writing this piece, I found myself remembering something else about Road One that it would be easier to forget. You see, just as there is the in-bound lane, you also have the out-bound lane which is of course exactly the same except that it faces the opposite direction, leading out of school. When a student for some reason or the other got expelled from school, maybe for academic or disciplinary reasons, the popular slang in school was, he or she had been placed on Road One. It was one of the most painful experiences a student could have. To have to leave before acquiring the degree you came to get. Worst of all were those students who after a few years on the campus had to be carried out on the same Road One, dead. I once had a Room mate who died so I remember this so clearly. I remember the tearful candle light processions held by students for their departed colleagues.

Indeed, Road One is like many of life's experiences. The exact same situation that leads some people to greatness and fulfillment carries some others into chaos. Some get married and are blissfully happy, others end up in a mess of abuse and crushed dreams. Some migrate to another country and flourish greatly while others end up homeless and penniless in a strange land. Interestingly enough, while many students who experienced the dreaded Road One expulsion situation found it hard to pull things back together in their lives, I still know many who got it together and refused to be held down by it. They fought back at life until they snatched back the greatness it seemed would never be theirs again. Sort of like a seed of greatness had been planted within them and though they had been kicked in the gut, they just would not give up until they flourished. Many students who were placed on the dreaded out-bound lane of Road One went on to attend other schools and still acquired their degrees, others became wealthy and successful entrepreneurs but that is a story for another day.

Today, I simply remember Road One as a well-planned masterpiece full of promise, majesty and the hopeful dreams of young hearts.

It's Reinvention Time; What is Your Real Name?

The other day, I met somebody new and as I introduced myself, 'Hi, I'm Nike,' I found myself considering, what really is a person's name? 

Jane or Jumi, Tony or Tope, your designation goes well beyond the word on the surface. In fact, long before you open your mouth to speak a word, you are already communicating, already 'naming' yourself. And that is why a person can tell you, I saw this lady, I did not get to speak to her, but I believe she is Smart or Intelligent or Interesting. This may be influenced by but honestly goes way beyond beauty or the clothes you wear. 

Thing is, with every time you meet somebody, just as you are saying I am Titi or Deedee, you are also saying without words, I am Confident, I am Organized, I Got this.

This subtle communication is all too real. Think of this, a person will hardly tell everyone at a new job, my name is Tim and then have all of them call him Jim. So also, it is what you tell us to call you that we will call you. If the communication coming out of you is, My name is Decent or Successful or Exciting or Humble or Smart, it will hardly matter to the people you interact with now who you were yesterday. You can rename and reinvent yourself and the people around you Will follow your lead eventually.

First, acknowledge who you Were. But if you are moving on from there, don't Stay there. So you have become Single Parent or Jobless or Abused. Know where you are coming from so you can confidently say to the person trying to keep you in yesterday, 'Hey, that WAS me then, but Now... I am Fixed, I am Whole, I am Awesome!'

At the end of the day, people will call you what your Person demands to be called when you own it and consistently act as such. No matter what others say about you. No matter what your past is. And that is why it is simply pathetic to see some people communicate with every interaction, Hi, I am Depressed, I am Loser, I am Pathetic, I am Angry, I am Weakling or worst of all, I am Still-Ashamed-of-my-Yesterday-Today.

So, tell us today; What truly is your Name? Or is it Reinvention time...?

What is Your Excuse? (2)

The first time I read of the Locked-in syndrome, I thought surely, that would be the end of the world for anyone so afflicted. A person like you and I who is fully mentally aware, perfectly fine in the mind but paralyzed from head to toe. How awful to be unable to express joy, love, frustration, desire, anger, everything that you feel within. I have seen a stammerer's frustration when unable to express a thought quickly enough so I know it must be the height of frustration indeed.

Reading about Jean-Dominique got me thinking though. In 1995, Jean-Do had a massive stroke that put him in a coma for 20 days and when he woke up, fully conscious and mentally aware, he was paralyzed  from head to toe. He only had some movement in his head and eyes. Eventually, even his right eye had to be sewn shut so, he was left basically with the ability to blink his left eye.

Could you stop for a moment and move your fingers, wiggle your nose and your toes and move your cheeks into a smile. If you can do that, guess what, you can achieve a lot indeed. Why, you ask?

Well, this man who could only blink his left eye went on to write, edit and publish a book just by blinking his left eye. This book, 'The Diving bell and the Butterfly' is the story of his life with  the Locked in syndrome. How did he do this? A transcriber had to basically recite the French alphabet till Jean-Do blinked to choose the desired letter and that was how the whole book was painstakingly written over a period of ten months. He died two days after the book was published.

In my day to day life, I meet someone every now and then who simply chooses to rise above their circumstances and dream beyond the resources life seems to have given them. Should I mention friends I have had who had no support structures whatsoever or sponsors during school and had to resort to very basic means like washing clothes for people or making hats for people to pay for a higher education? Or people who have basically created a life for themselves out of nothing just by having a dream of a better life and going for it.

Well, no matter the excuse today, I make a choice to dream even beyond what my ordinary self can obviously achieve, and then grow into the reality of that dream. Does that make sense to you? I just think we will never grow if we only do the mundane things we feel sure that we are able to do. 

In the same year, 1995, when Jean-Do had his heart attack, a lady simply began to knock on her neighbors' doors to start what she called 'Columbus neighbors'. She thought, how can people get to decide which local business to patronize and choose those who have served other people around them well? By the year 2006, a mere eleven years later, Angie's List had reached one million members online and over three hundred employees. 

Not everybody's dream is meant to reach the whole world but, within your local environment, is there a life you can positively influence? A lady with a passion for young ladies chose to speak to the teenage girls in her daughter's high school about sexual purity. In that meeting, she met a girl who had been sexually abused before the age of ten and thus was birthed a foundation to fight child sexual abuse. Today, Christianah Fate Foundation has trained over ten thousand parents, children and volunteers in the Lagos metropolis  and beyond on how to prevent the occurrence of sexual abuse in our children. 

So once again I ask you, what is your excuse?

What Is Your Excuse? (1)

Seriously, what is your excuse?

Helen was born a normal little girl. Indeed, everything was fine until she was 19months old when she fell ill. That in itself should not have been much of a problem if she had been born in 1980. But a mere hundred years earlier, in the year 1880, a condition that might have been meningitis was described by her doctors as 'an acute congestion of the stomach and brain' and left little Helen both blind and deaf.

So, how do you communicate with a blind person? You speak, and he hears. To a deaf person, sign language solves the problem. But what do you do when a person is both blind and deaf? 

Helen learned how to communicate through the sense of touch. She learned how to speak, how to read Braille and even how to read people's lips and sign language using her hands. In fact, in 1904, Helen Keller became the first blind and deaf person to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree. 

But she did not stop there. You see many of us make our education or career an end in itself. It is not. It is only a tool in your hand with which you can make your own unique footprint in the sands of time. Helen went on to become a world-famous writer and speaker who gave speeches in over thirty countries of the world and supported many worthy causes such as birth control amongst others.

So I ask you again, what is your excuse today? You see, whatever the odds stacked against you, there is somebody out there either with exactly those same odds or worse who is choosing to excel IN SPITE of those odds. Great achievements were never made in the absence of opposition and problematic circumstances but In spite of them.

Unfortunately, one of the factors I have found that hinder a lot of people from doing great things is inferiority complex resulting from unhealthy competition. So you won't write that book because Mr A surely writes better than you or you won't start that charity or sing that song or make that business proposal or approach that lady of your dreams because surely, Mr B is better qualified than you or simply because no one else has done it before!

Well, it is understandable when right from the first day in a classroom all our achievements are made into a competition between us and our peers. So, instead of being focussed on how much math I learnt this semester and why I got a B in math, all I am concerned with is, I came 2nd in class and Eddy came first, I have to beat him next time.

And we take this mentality into the outside world, but we let it stop us from even trying at the things we are passionate about! Don't get me wrong, healthy competition is very good indeed. It pushes you to try harder and achieve more, but I find that in reality, the flip side of the coin is more often the case. A lot of us look with secret envy at a few people doing great things we once upon a time passionately planned to do, then simply return to our mundane lives.

Well, today, throw away your excuses for not trying! Don't just be a doctor, find time to participate in that community health enlightenment program on radio you've always been interested in. Don't just be a government worker, write that book about good work ethics you have dreamed about writing. Don't stop at a first degree, go for that masters in the particular area you have desired to further explore. You want to visit the Alaska? Start saving up today and go apply for that visa. The penguins are waiting!

Yes, in life there is always the chance that you will fail, but failure is only one of the many ingredients found in the pot of greatness. Take a realistic look at your excuses and tell them, 'You are not stopping me any longer.' Remember, you have a unique set of footprints that no one else can imprint on the sands of our time. So, quit worrying about what the next guy is doing better than you and just give us your own unique 'You'. We ask for nothing else!

When the Evening and the Morning Meet

Yesterday, I saw my Grandfather.

He was older than I recalled

His frail body shrunken with the years

He sat, limp and bowed

Tired after the fierce battles 

And the rigors of the adventures

Of that Great Field of Combat;

Life

But in his brown eyes I saw

That old sparkle

That as a child I always glimpsed therein

The spark of hope and of life

Shining on through the years

Fueled by the breath of Life

Panting through his parted lips, 

And I wondered, What happens

When the evening and the morning meet?

I had my hopes; He, his experiences

The joyful, the regretful

And those known to no other human soul.

I had my dreams; He, his visions

Be they mares of the night, pictures of the past

Or glimpses of the wonders of another waiting world.

I had my worries; 

Of the hazy outlines of my tomorrows,

He, his memories

From the unchangeable shapes 

Engraved on his yesterdays and yesteryears.

I had before me

The rising sun of the dawn of life,

And wafting over him were the cool breezes 

Of a colorful sunset

Which ever so softly woos mortal man

At the eventime 

To the long sleep of death.

And when finally comes the darkness of night,

The day coming to a close 

In this threadlike Life of Time -so easily cut-

When the moment comes 

To step into the yawning expanse 

Of eternity -A timeless Time-

Then will begin a bright new Day

For then indeed, will the evening and the morning truly meet.

Yesterday, I saw my Grandfather.

He was older than I recalled 

And he called me by my mother's name.

All too soon it felt,

We had to say our reluctant goodbyes

And as I turned back at the door 

For one last glimpse of a sinking sun

A dying Son,

I caught the flash of wetness 

In his longing eye

The slightest of quivers 

To his once full lips

Then indeed knew I what happens

When the evening and the morning meet.

Life of a Proud Naija Graduate; Moz Hall (Part 1)

It was finally time and after a full two years of begging WAEC to, 'Let my destiny go', I was finally headed to University! The Legendary Great Ife was awaiting me and boy, was I excited and ready to conquer the town.

To clarify, I had finished my high school two years before and passed all my subjects in flying colors, but then, the 'naija factor' set in. To our collective horror, without any explanations, WAEC decided to withhold the chemistry result of my school so, all of us planning to read medicine, pharmacy and courses that required Chemistry for University admissions were suddenly left high and dry...for a whole year! 

I spent a loooong year awaiting the release of my precious chemistry result (in which I had an A when it was released by the way!), only to have 'Aluta' (student riots) in Ife prevent us from resuming the following year again! Suffice it to say, when I was finally going to resume at last, in the Great school of my many dreams, of which my dad had regaled me tales from his days as a student there back in the seventies, I spent the sweltering 12hour drive from middle belt Nigeria to Ife in the southwest gleefully daydreaming!

I imagined the massive cafeterias where Daddy told me they were served choice dishes accompanied with a quarter of a whole chicken and tasty soups daily. The huge lecture theaters with the bright lights beaming down at night when you went to study. Oh! But above all, did I dream of the hostels! I imagined spacious, quiet rooms, where I could set up my 'corner' with my amateur interior decoration skills and where I would have a neat simple desk beside my bed to study late at night if I chose and carry out deeply intellectual discussions with my smart, geeky and bespectacled roommate. Or so I thought!!!

Mm, well, I won't gist you of the 'cafes' that had not functioned as food service stations in over twenty years, nor will I speak of the over crowded lecture theaters where we spent many a night 'jacking' (studying) via candlelight or rechargeable lamps. Oh, those I promise you, are 'delightful' stories for another day. 

Naa, today is all about debunking those dreams of a cosy, warm and quiet hostel room. Let me introduce you to the Mozambique hall I was taken to straight from the registration point of the Faculty of Pharmacy. We drove past some majestic looking hostels (or halls as we called them), nice enough, albeit all needing a good coat of paint, they still looked like shadows of those great hostels my dad had described from the seventies and I was excited and exhausted enough to ignore the peeling paint on Sports Hall's walls, the broken glass of Awo Hall Cafe, the blocked drainage by Faj Hall, etc. 

That was until we drove up to a cluster of blocks of bungalow buildings that to me looked EXACTLY like an abandoned village secondary school! The barbed wire fence was falling apart! The paint job on the walls could have been done before I was born for all I could tell and worst of all, the porter's station in front of the Hall's gate looked like Abule Egba Police station, I kid you not! 

It did not yet penetrate my exhausted mind that this was to be my home for the next two years till I heard the agbero (bus conductor) in the dilapidated bus behind my parents car yell, 'Moz Hall, Moz Hall! Oya come down o! Last bus stop! Oya ebole!(Come down here!)'. I gasped in horror...!

(To be continued)