Spirituality

watch me live, survive and thrive without you

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          Little Kifi, the fish, gleefully sprang up into the air, gulped some air and flipped her tail. Then dived back into the ocean.

Swimming leisurely along, she reminisced on her recent encounter with another older fish, Azu.

“Your life is tied to the Water. Outside of it, you cease to exist”

“Must be a pitiable state to live” mused Kifi as she recalled the conversation with Azu.

Although, Azu was white and bent with age with glazed over eyes, his senses of hearing and touch were still razor-sharp.

The Renegade

Meanwhile, earlier that day, Azu had noticed Kifi join a school of others who went by a funky name. They tagged themselves ‘The Wokes’.

Led by a renegade herring by the name of Eja. Recently, Eja has began to stir up discontent among the younger school. He encouraged them to become daring. Do more. Be more. Crave more. Eja sold the idea of how their lives in the ocean was boring and there was a better life out there on the shores.

Furthermore, at odd hours when he presumed no one was watching; he would swim away from the sea bed, close enough to the shore to watch the fishermen.

Also, his eyes twinkled when he saw the humans pick some of his mates out of the waters. They never returned. Eja’s mind dreamed up all colourful scenarios about life outside. And as is the nature of unsatisfied yearnings, Eja began devising a plot to follow the humans to their exotic lands.

The Caution

However, Old Azu heard about it and went in search of Eja.

“I hear you are dreaming of killing yourself and taking other naive fish along” he began

“Who have you been talking to old one? Eja chuckled

“My source is not important. I have only come to remind you that there is no life outside of these Waters.”

“Get a life old man. Your limiting mindset stinks. No wonder your life is boring. If there is no life outside why do the others who go away not return?” Eja scorned as he glided away

“I promised your father to do my best for you” Azu had gone in search of little Kifi. “This thing with Eja will only lead to trouble” cautioned Azu

“Thank you Old Azu. You have kept your promise to my parents. I can now take care of myself and know what is best for me” Kifi replied cheekily and dived up again for air.

The scapefish

Then that evening, old Azu woke up to a cacaphony.

Eja was surrounded by an angry school lashing out at him.

Turned out he had led a team towards the shore so they could feel the sand on their skin. They did not see the net until it closed. Kifi was among those captured. Her cries were the loudest as she wriggled frantically inside the net. Eja had no idea how he raced back into the safety of the water. From that vantage point, he stared helplessly as Kifi and the others finally suffocated and lay still.

As Azu approached, Eja hung his head in shame.

“I tried to rescue her” he lied

“I tried to warn her about you” Eja angrily remarked

“Constantly reminding her that there is no life outside of the waters. In it we live and move and have our being”

 

If you like this. You will also like https://amarannaji.com/navigating-anger-and-faith/

#principles #statutes #itishowitis #rulebook #deviants

 

on the road to shangisha 2

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  click here for part 1

“I always have Altars commemorating my encounters with God”

“Altars kwa?”  I responded

“Yes.  Altars like Bible times”

I knew about Altars.  I mean, both of us are Old-time religion, faith-based bible followers.  We shared similar foundational upbringing and the bible was one common area for us. 

However, when I thought physical Altars, the image which drew up was the type in my friend Esso’s Catholic home.

Howbeit now, my Pentecostal friend was talking Altars

“Tell me about it” I returned quietly across the line.

“I learnt to set up Altars.  For each major encounter I have with God I set up an altar at the location where it happened” 

And I listened to my friend go on about memorials as statutes of remembrances of God’s faithfulness. So much so that by the time I drove off, that billboard location became an altar for me.  I would eventually set up others.

Years later, after I had moved away from Magodo, that location remained an Altar. A place which held the presence of God for me strongly.  It also served as a place of Refuge for me. 

For each time I drove through that environs, I would cast a glance to that landmark and say a prayer. 

I recall during the Pandemic when I was super-stressed and floundering.  This particular day, driving to the Fruits market at Ketu; I stopped by the First bank after Caleb College to use the ATM. 

Overwhelmed, I parked and walked down to the billboard.  I stood there for quite some time seeking solace.  I felt the security which you would find when you run into a Safe House.  Then, feeling grounded, I left. 

Now, as I stand 110 metres above sea level drinking in the views, I feel so relaxed and peaceful.

I recall the first time I was up here – the week before the surgery.  Crushed and groping my way to understand what this new drama was all about, I had stood at this same spot closer to the heavens monologuing to God.

“Cancer?” 

“Surely Lord, you know I trust you enough to make this this disappear and we would not have to go through this process?”

I reasoned.  Pleaded.  Argued my case as I stood up there.  By the time we left there, I had built an altar on the clouds of the Spinnaker Tower.

God did not make the Cancer disappear. 

Yet, standing at this altar again today, I know that victory comes in shades. 

 

 

on the road to shangisha

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“I vividly recall where I was when Uzoejiagaaro spoke to me about Altars.

Pause.

“What type of name is such a mouthful?”

Please come with me.

Uzo. Eji. Aga. Aro. [The road to Aro. Where Aro is short for Arochukwu a local government in Nigeria].

Arochukwu is the third largest city in Abia state. Initially inhabited by the Ibibios. it would later become a territory for the colonial imperialists. The Ibibios, are a riverine tribe from the coasts of Akwa-Ibom – a neighbouring state to Abia. And thanks to their proximity to the Coast, they were exposed to civilization as all Coastal areas are.

Therefore, between the Ibibios and the imperialists, Arochuku boasted of Economic development which included an Ashpalt-paved road.

Back then, a tarred road was a rarity. It meant a smooth and easy journey for you if you were travelling to and fro Aro -no speed-breakers, potholes, bumps or delay.

Thus, names like Uzoejiagaaro, *Uzoejiabaliaga, **Uzodinma and other forms of Uzo became popular names which connotated a prayer for an easier ride through Life.

Subsequently, the next time you hear Uzoaru, Uzoma, Uzodi etcetera, you now get the picture.

*Uzo. Eji. Abali. Aga. = the road you travel at night because it is so smooth you have no worries

**Uzo. Di. Nma. = A good road.

Now, back to where I was when Uzoaru called.

I was on my way home from Banana Island to Magodo after a full day’s job.

I had crossed Alapere and veered in to buy fuel at that Service Station just before the Apostolic Faith Campground at Ojota.  As I drove out of the Station, my phone rang. 

By the Anglican Church at Ikosi Junction, I turned in. 

and parked in front of the Zenith billboard. Yes, the conversation was that captivating. Besides, with police presence only few metres ahead, I felt safe from the dangers of the infamous robbers on that Ojota bridge…..click here

 

 

Letting The Cancer Fester 2

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You can click here if you missed part one…….. and if they were active in church, temporarily relieved of any duties until they served out the suspension period.  If you refused the discipline, you were ex-communicated. Nevertheless, before that suspension stage, you would have had warnings. Warnings given privately at those face-saving meetings held with you. … Read more

Worth More Than Flowers

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As I stood there with the flower vase staring at him angrily while he argued, conflicting thoughts crisscrossed through my mindfield.
 
 
“Think before you say the next thing now so I do not smash this thing on your head”  But as he continued talking, I shut the door and walked.
 
“Phew, that was close!  at what point did I leave the soothing warmth of my early morning Father-daughter bonding to this mother-son heated brouhaha?”   The last thing I recall was going to the fridge for some milk.  And now I stood by the kitchen counter pacing my breath.
 

“you almost fell into that trap and would have ruined this atmosphere over nothing”   the rebuke came

Atmosphere.  Trap.  Fell.  Nothing. Then it hit me.  Cradling my cup of hot chocolate I walked back into my room.  As I sat back down on my Prayer/Yoga mat I heard again “Over nothing”.
 
“It is not nothing.  That Plant already survived the winter and is thriving in this Spring and I keep telling him ……”
 
“And you life-giver enabled it to survive the winter?  how many flowers do we have in this house again?”
 
“Why are you flipping it on me now?  did you not watch him kill my Maranta last year?
 
“the winter would have finished it off anyway.  And the Maranta is sprouting again so why are you whining?
 
“Aha, now I am whining?”
 
 
“I will slash his footballs if I have to”.  I huffed
 
 
“Since when have you ever slashed anything?”
 
 
Ouch!
 
 
“Is it not your fault that I am so constrained? afterall…….”
 
“Amara, how many plants do we have in this house?
 
 
 Grudgingly, I stood up again to go take stock.
 
 

Meanwhile, the past few days had been rough.  Last night I had knocked off about four hours of sleep without the morphine.  By 7 am, I had spent time catching up with friends around the Globe, finally finished the story I began writing weeks back and caught up on my messages.  Manifested my day, had an invigorating bath, dressed up and back on my Prayer Mat for some Father-Daughter time.

 
It felt like the real me. Such days were rare and it was probably that feeling which generated all these dopamine I was floating on now.  Also, having a hot cuppa during my devotions gave me an early morning bonding feeling with my father.  And that was how the milk idea came up.

 

Then I saw them on the floor! My precious Chinese Money plant!

 

Lifting the pot to examine, what I saw had my head spinning and the next thing I knew I had yanked his door open. 

This same boy had smashed a big antique silvery vase last month and I chose to accept sorry and peace of mind.  This, right after the winter finished off the Maranta plant from where his football stopped.  My young Philodendron which defied the winter is now fighting for life because each time it attempts to hug the trellis, his football knocks it over. Until he recently met me halfway by hedging it.

 
And now, this!
 
Nonetheless, as I walked around counting all the flowers, I saw the knocked over card on the floor and read the words again.
 
Then images flashed before my eyes.  The countless ways he has cared for me as I battled the illness. The toll it has taken on him and how he is still a little boy after all.
 
Later as he was leaving for school, he stood by my door and explained:
 
“You know that I now play football against only that wall by the sofa.  It was while moving the table last night that it hit the pot. You were already asleep so I could not tell you.  It was not football”
 
“Ndo.  Sorry I shouted at you”  I apologised
 
This son of mine; worth more than all the flowers in the world.

Letter To Lucifer

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Hello Lucifer, My grandfather, Reverend David Nwokocha, died at 100+ years.  He could not stand the boredom after his wife left. My grandmother, Mama-Ukwu was 87 when she bowed out with dignity My mother SUB, a septuagenarian is still here. My father SI ran off at 74.  His soul became weary after the accident and … Read more

The Rose Garden II

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And as all of Heaven zoomed off leaving him to his fate, he stood and walked into Judas’ embrace.   “Rabboni”  Judas greeted   “What took you so long?”  he whispered   Aghast, Judas stared at him.  “you knew?”   “But I did tell you earlier during Supper”  Mallam replied wearily   “Yes, but…. how … Read more