Thursday, April 13, 2017

Date a girl who reads

Date a girl who reads,
So that on the day she tells you she is from a marathon,
You’ll look at her in disbelief and without panting she’ll say,
“I was racing with the sun in a bus with no lights.
By jove! I managed five pages! My best yet.”

Date a girl who reads,
The one whose handbag is too heavy because it is full of books,
A bible, a hardcopy book and a myriad others on her kindle and the scribd app on her tab,
Offer to carry it for her because chivalry is still alive in the books she reads.

Date a girl who reads,
So that when on a date,
When she looks like she’s in a daze,
And when you think that it is that time of the month
You will gather your courage and ask “What is wrong?”
Then she will look at you with tears in her eyes and say,
“It is unfair that he had to die that way.”
And you will think that she looks so beautiful when she’s vulnerable and passionate about the books she reads.

Date a girl who reads,
The one who seems to know a little about everything.
Listen to her as she tells you how gladiators used to prepare for combat in the ancient Rome colosseum,
Get awed when she explains what a laparoscopic cholecysectomy is,
Then, when you see that her signature has some Japanese Hiragana characters,
Realize that she probably has the most beautiful of minds.

Date a girl who reads,
The one whose thrills are affordable and exciting,
Propose to her in a library,
Prepare huge shelves in the house you both plan to move into,
Help her look for huge boxes to pack her book collection.
Imagine what your kids will be like, having such a mother.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Did They Tell You?

Did they tell you?

That I am an active volcano mountain waiting to erupt,

A powered projector waiting for my display to go on,

A canned coke just shaken waiting to be opened?

Did they tell you

That I am a seed just buried in a rainy season,

A woman who just broke her waters,

Fireworks on the day before new years eve.

Did they inform you

That my determination reminds them of a cursor on a Word Document

Or the majestic waves of the sea, rising fearlessly and majestically

Or the bermuda triangle that swallows everything whole?

Oh tell me, did they whisper,

That my handwriting is too straight,

Or that I seem to have an idea about everything?

Did they tell you that all these things are true?

Sunday, June 19, 2016

My Father My Superhero

Fathers are like nuts: hard on the outside but very tender on the inside. We’ve grown up having to tell  our fathers where we are going, who we are going to be with and at what time they should expect us  back. You see, my father has had the un(enviable) opportunity of bringing up two daughters through  and out of their teenage years. When I was younger, I found my father a bit too protective and intrusive.  I really looked forward to getting out of the nest and now that I am all grown up, I want to brood for a  while longer.

There are a few things we don’t get to choose in life: key among them being who our parents are and  how they choose to bring us up. The experience of having (or not having) a parent can only be a single  story. I like what Chimamanda says on single stories, “The single story creates stereotypes, and the
problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.”

Overtime, I have formed stereotypes on fatherhood and men. For a long time, I believed that fathers (if  not all men) could fix everything. I don’t remember a time when I asked my dad to fix something and he  said he could not. Recently, my sister had a splinter of wood in her palm. I tried removing it and after  failing, we turned to my dad who removed it in a few seconds. I also remember a time I was trying to  open the zipper to one of my boots and it got stuck (If you want to develop claustrophobia, have one of  your legs stuck in a tight leather boot). My dad as always was the superhero. In a few seconds, my toes  were free. Apart from the father hat, my dad wears the electrician, plumber, carpenter, mason,  policeman, alarm clock, cobbler, teacher, physician, chef and ‘ultimate superhero’ hats.   There is a notion among most people that ladies get married to men who are like their fathers. This  could be true because attraction tends to lean towards stereotypes made about family and fatherhood.  However, I have come to accept the fact that my husband will never be like my father. I do not expect  my future husband to be my superhero; my father already wears that hat. I’ll want him to be the  superhero to our children and the husband to me. You see, despite the many times my father has saved  the day, I have also seen him fail and struggle. It did not make me view my father as less of a superhero,  it made me realize that he is human. Just as his sacrificial love made me understand God as Father, so  did His shortcomings make me realize the supremacy of God. 

Recently, I was animatedly describing to someone how protective my father is. “At least you know what  protection is.” He told me. Having a loving father is like living in a fortified city during a war: it makes you  feel safe; it is an untradeable privilege. Cheers to all men who take on fatherhood roles. You are a superhero to someone!