Edima Usoro

Let go of the past for it belongs in the past. Its mission has been accomplished and delivered as instructed.

Those chains you’re holding onto are bruising your delicate hands. Your palms are red and your fingers are blistered. Don’t you see that with each passing day you keep holding onto those chains, it’s bleeding you and soon will leave long lasting scars that will reflect deep within your soul?

You took those shackles by yourself and placed then on your feet. You’re unable to move because it’s weighing you down and soon, you will stagger and fall. Don’t you see that when you fall, you will find it so hard to rise because your hands and feet are bound?

Now, you sit on the chair, unwilling to get up; not even ready to rock it back and forth, perhaps the rhythm will bring you back to life and remind you of all the good things you have allowed pass you by. Don’t you see that as you sit, seconds are becoming minutes, minutes are becoming hours, hours are becoming days, days are becoming nights, nights are becoming weeks, weeks are becoming months and months are becoming years?

The world will not wait for you to decide when it pleases you to let go of the chains and shackles of the past. Decide today; decide now to get up from that chair of sorrow, regrets, heartbreaks and failures. Let go of the past and embrace now while hugging the future.

Image Credit: Crossmap

Life is like a mystery with its ups and downs. Some days it looks like you’re progressing, taking all the huge steps to achieve your goals and other days it looks like a force more powerful than your fears is pulling you down. It feels like the descent is quicker than the ascent.

Life is like a mystery with ins and outs. Some days you feel so full of ideas like a yam barn during a good harvest. It’s like you can outrun Aliko Dangote in business. Other days, you’re bereaved of ideas and nothing productive comes out of you like a fast flowing tap suddenly turned off.

Life is like a mystery with its lefts and rights. Some days you make the right decisions like a farmer who knows well to plant cassava in the South because of its high demand, like a block layer who knows well to combine coke with bread. Other days, you blunder and struggle, full of regrets like a taxi driver who turns left into a one way, driving against traffic and having Road Safety on his tail.

With the ups and downs, the ins and the outs, the lefts and the rights, life’s mysteries cannot be solved but can only be endured, enjoyed or unraveled.

In the end, it’s your decision to make whether to live each day as it comes, making the best out of it or wallow in self-pity wishing for silver spoons that may never come.

Image Credit: Desiring God

I got to heaven’s gate yesterday weary and broken. I journeyed tirelessly in my mind but weak physically in my bones. The journey to heaven’s gate hadn’t been a smooth one. My best friend Idara told me she once tried but had an accident and couldn’t continue. My mother told me I am just a woman and need not embark on such a stressful journey. My father said it was only for the brave and I wasn’t courageous enough yet. In all of this, my mind was made up with the ultimate goal at hand.

I got to heaven’s gate yesterday, tired and sad; sad because the gate wasn’t what I expected. It was like the Great Wall of China; stretching left and right to distances beyond my sight. There I stood; confused on which way to go, not knowing who to ask for help for everyone seemed preoccupied with themselves.

Just as I turned to leave, dejected and unhappy, unwilling to come to terms with what loved ones had said, someone put his hand on my shoulder. “Mmayen, you are at heaven’s gate. The path you seek is yours to choose. Do what you must. Climb the gate if you must. Go left if you must. Go right if you must; for heaven’s gate is endless and the treasure you seek is behind heaven’s gate.

With his words, I found courage. Climb, I must.

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The first time I ever saw a Water Lily was in the hands of a classmate. We went on class excursion to a rice farm. ‘What’s that in your hand?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know. It’s a strange looking flower’. ‘Let me see’. As I walked towards him, he ripped the flower into bits. ‘Why did you do that?’ I yelled as little balls of tears rolled down my cheeks.  Almost immediately, our Agriculture teacher showed up and I told him what happened. He pointed at a pond not far away from where we stood. Behold my flower! There were so many!

Gently, I knelt as I reached out to stroke its leaves. I couldn’t help but wonder how it’s rooted in soil inside the water with floating leaves and flower undisturbed by the water. I carefully pulled one out and studied it.

The roots were a lot; some tiny and some big. The stem was slender and long, disconnecting the roots from the leaves and flowers. The flower though tough, smelled good! How could my classmate have thought of ripping this beauty apart! I certainly must take one home to show my mother! ‘Edima, let’s go to the bus, everyone is waiting for you’, Mr. Davidson said as he tapped my shoulder. ‘I see you like Water Lilies’, he added. Oh! So that’s what it’s called! I laughed so hard like never before.

I didn’t have what was needed to grow a Water Lily in my house so it withered but I had what it took to grow it in my heart.

As I sit back today and remember that day, I am determined.

If the Water Lily can survive in water surrounded by more water, we can survive whatever comes our way. Keep your head up just like the flowers and leaves of the Lily, unshaken by the activities in the water because its roots are firmly fixed.

Decide what you want for your life and stick to it. Let your goals and dreams keep you alive just like the roots. Develop a thick skin to people who want to pull you down this month; just like that boy who tried to make me unhappy by destroying my Lily but in the end I found laughter deep within my soul.

The French Impressionist, Claude Monet, had 250 oil paintings of a Water Lily. Water Lily is a source of fragrance for perfumes. I say, there must be something about this plant so, BE INSPIRED by the Water Lily.

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Change begins with you; change begins with me, say No to CORRUPTION. The advertisement kept rolling as I watched the 9:00 pm news on cable TV. Ask me not what station it was, for that’s a story for another day. While the news was still on, I received a notification from a post on Instagram. ‘Police is your friend; don’t give and receive bribe. Be the change you want to see…’ I watched this video over and over again. I was forced to ask myself if I was being targeted; same message in one night!

I finally looked up at my mum who was spread on her favorite chair in the parlor munching her favorite fruit, Cucumber. ‘Mummy, police is your friend’. She turned sharply to look at me with her brows raised almost choking on her cucumber. ‘Which police? Your police or my police?’ I was a bit confused. ‘Mummy I’m saying that police, the normal police you and I know, are our friends so we can approach them if we are in danger.’ ‘But I didn’t say I did not hear you the first time. I’m only asking which of the police; Nigerian police? The one I know or the one you know because the one I know is ‘more than a friend’.

In fact, the other day as I was going to Udua Nka (a market in Akwa Ibom State, Nigeria), one bike man (motorcyclist) rode into my side mirror and totally uprooted it. On my way back from the market, ‘police, ‘your friend’, stopped me. I opened my boot, showed my papers and one asked what happened to my side mirror, I explained.  Then, he said he’s not sure the car is mine even after seeing the papers and my driver’s license.  Then, the other one added that it’s a crime to drive around without side mirror as if I enjoyed it. ‘Mummy, I chipped in, how does that relate to police being more than a friend?’ ‘It does oh! It does! My friend would have understood what happened that day. Mama Choir (a nickname for one of her friends) would have understood but because ‘police is more than a friend, they did not oh! They did not! Mummy exclaimed.’

Just then, the advertisement came up again as the news was rounding up. ‘Police is your friend…’ ‘Where is that remote?’ Mummy changed the channel before advert finished. I went back to reading comments on the police post on Instagram.

Image Credit: Daily Post Nigeria

I barely believed in global warming because I felt the world remained as it was centuries ago, and that the earth was still rotating on its axis and revolving round the sun. I had become used to seeing rainfall in March and ‘August Break’ in August.

In the last three years, my persuasion no longer hold water as the weather has become even more unpredictable. For example, it could be very sunny and humid and in a few moments, rain clouds gather resulting in heavy downpour. Finally, I understood the concept of global warming.  In a nutshell, millions of people globally are contributing daily to the depletion of the ozone layer (including Nigeria), through activities like burning fossil fuel and refuse.

When I was younger, trips to the village were exciting. It was stirring mingling with peers, listening to folktales and playing the local games that were not toys and teddies. My memories also include the usual sanitation ritual my aunty executed with Saturday weekly precision. She would gather the refuse for that week and burn it. It wasn’t just our compound but other homes do this as well, some more regularly than others.  In the evenings, we would see thick smoke wafting over the once peaceful horizon of the village. Our clothes and our bodies will stink of smoke. The air would seem to clear, but alas what was normal for the ozone would have been slightly shifted, another point for global warming. Yes, I believe that somehow, the air was contaminated.

This practice isn’t just common in the villages but in the urban areas too, like Lagos. Generally, it’s a normal practice in Nigeria to burn refuse at home.

Over the years, a lot of water has gone under the bridge and companies have sprung up with the ‘pick your dirt services and we dispose it for you’ system.  Some people have embraced it while a larger number haven’t; perhaps because of the high cost and inconvenience.

I remember visiting another aunty I hadn’t seen in ages and behold the garbage in her kitchen, not one but three litter bags! She was quick to respond, “I’m hardly around and most times when these refuse people come to pick it, I’m not here and you know I live alone”. “Please later in the evening, help me burn it”, she added. Clearly, she didn’t find the service convenient.

Online Litter picker! I jumped out of bed and opened my notepad to write the idea before it gets lost in the sea of ideas, just like the others that have gone because I hadn’t taken note. I had been lying lazily on my bed thinking of how to solve the waste problem because asides the smell, our health and environment are at risk of depletion.

An example of an online litter picker can be found here www.litterpicker.com (although it’s for commercial and industrial use); my idea of online litter picker will be for individual use. On the website, a simple interface is provided where you can fill in your details. Next, you’ll be directed to a payment portal where you can select a convenient payment plan.

In my case, the options will be weekly, monthly, quarterly and yearly.  The online payment makes it easy for people with busy schedules to subscribe. Discounts will be made available for loyal customers and people who sort their waste into different litter bags of recyclable, non-recyclable and organic. Customers will simply dump the refuse in a neatly tied bin bag outside their home or office for pick up.

The economic downturn in the country has led to high rate of unemployment, and to make ends meet, some people result to doing odd jobs like pushing wheel barrows on the streets to carry load for a token. Litter picker will engage their services.

The wheel barrow pushers will go to customers’ homes, shops, etc. to ask for any refuse for disposal. Government intervention will be required to provide litter bags at a cheap rate to litter picker which will be given to the pushers for distribution in the communities. In the situation where Government intervention is not possible, partners and sponsors will be needed to ensure sustainability of the project. Litter picker will meet with the Local Government Chairperson and village heads to explain why the old practices need to be abolished. A town hall meeting will then be organized where the people will be sensitized. Here, they will be informed of a reward system put in place by litter picker for people who sort their waste and give to the wheel barrow pushers. The reward could range from cash prize at the end of the year to the best person or house as the case may apply or provision of some basic farm tools.

The success of the litter picker will largely depend on the rural communities because they require more sensitization, therefore, the sensitization will concentrate in the local communities.

Before hiring the wheel barrow pushers, a background check will be done for security reasons and to ensure the safety of customers. The first one year of operation in the rural areas will be free in order to gain their interest and trust with the aim of encouraging them to adopt the new system of waste disposal. Therefore, litter picker will cover the cost by using the money generated from the urban dwellers who can afford more.

In the end, the recycled products will be sold at affordable rates. With litter picker, Nigerians can breathe a cleaner air and live a healthier and happy life.

DEFINITION OF TERMS

Refuse: all non-hazardous solid waste from a community that requires collection and transport to a disposal site (from Britannica).

August Break: a short dry season in August lasting 2-3 weeks.

Image Credit: The Guardian Nigeria

As a child, I hated going to Port Harcourt because of the traffic and with each passing day, I’d pray and hope my family there would relocate. To me, Port Harcourt traffic has no bearing; the ‘go slow’ as we call it, is highly unpredictable unlike Lagos’; less traffic when people are at work or school and weekends. Every trip made to Port Harcourt (PH) was a torture for me; a few times, we managed to escape with only an overheated engine.

As an adult, though I still dread trips to Port Harcourt, I’ve been able to understand the traffic better; maybe because: LIFE IS LIKE TRAFFIC.

Just like the start of my journey to Port Harcourt by road from Akwa Ibom State, a smooth road is ahead of me, well tarred, no port hole; it is the same way life’s journey is for most people. You have that great idea to change the world, make money, build a house, buy a car or start a business.  You go on to plan and write your goals and vision.

I’m still on a smooth course till I reach PH. Behold; heavy gridlock! Cars are moving bumper to bumper, port holes on the road, cars overheating, bonnets running into boots, cars scratching each other; overtaking and taking with them your side mirror. Now that’s how the rest of your life plays out. Obstacles everywhere, plans you made failing, visions becoming blurred, targets not met, extra money unplanned for spent, low drive and temptation to quit.

So, I manage not to get hit in traffic or robbed, sadly the driver behind me won’t let me be; honking his horn and calling me names; a real case of road rage. Oh, did I tell you he goes further to tell me to go sell my car or park it if I can’t drive wild? Ok so another piece in life’s puzzle: Meeting people, who will stop at nothing to pull you down, telling you that you can never make it; nothing good can ever come out of ‘Samaria’.

Finally, I get to my brother’s house in PH. I forget how stressful it was getting there. We talk and laugh and talk some more.

Who would have thought that life can be so full of life for LIFE IS LIKE TRAFFIC. You’ll not get stuck forever, you might need to ‘go slow’ or advance little by little. Whatever happens, keep moving, and keep going until you get to your final destination.

Image Credit: Science Daily