Shooing Away The Dust...Brushing Off My Collar

Well, its only a few days until I am on that great, big metal bird, flying me across the ocean; into the warm embrace of my loving husband. I can't wait to see him, and in the music and lyrics of Anita Baker, 'it's been so long, I'm missing you baby...'

As I squeeze all of my clothes in my suitcase - I've already utilised the timely tradition of my people by sending a gigantic blue barrel ahead of me, so I can travel light - and zip and unzip until my suitcase resembles a fully stuffed, can't fit any- food- inside - stomach, I can only reminisce on my time in the UK - good times and bad.

Yesterday, my oldest son treated me and my youngest son to a meal in Chinatown. We went to this cheap and cheerful restaurant, where the food is plentiful and the staff are rude. Nonetheless, with some bittersweet moments of being in my boys presence and knowing that they can't just jump on Eurostar or come by coach to see me in Holland, and trying to determine my youngest son's sullen silence, we had a good time.I  couldn't really garner an appetite as the realisation was hitting me hard that I will be separate from them; many miles away in a place which is comprised of pure nature, and irrigated by 365 rivers - or so the locals say.

 Its easier saying goodbye to friends, but saying goodbye - well, its not really a goodbye- to sons that you have carried and nurtured all these years, can be a tad emotional. I was surprised that I held it down though. I didn't want to embarrass my children, and cause a tsunami in the restaurant,  but I cried all the way home. It wasn't really of sadness...

Anyway, next door to this restaurant is a place where I used to rave hard, way back in the days - The Wag Club. Its no longer there. I felt a sense of sadness and loss, because this place, and also the The Empire in Leicester Square, were my youthful days of abandoned rituals: partying and being reckless (in the way that I could, as I was still living a sheltered life at home).  As I said, The Wag Club is no longer there, and I guess like this former landmark which was a place of my post adolescence innocence,  like then as of now,  I'm in the midst of change, of transformation.

Its funny, in the last few days, I've noticed a couple of friends becoming kind of distant towards me. I'm still trying to understand what that is all about. I'm not sure and I can't put my finger on it. Maybe they will miss me? I tend to over analyse things, so I'm just going to leave it alone, shoo it away with the dust that has accumulated in my life.

Its at times like this, deep in reflection of my continued journey, I really have seen who my true friends are; I can literally count them on one hand, and this is fine by me. There is one particular one - who will remain nameless - but if she sees this blog she will know it is her (!) who was/is there for me unconditionally. Through thick and thin, more than some members of my own family. I will never, ever forget her kindness and her nurturing spirit towards me. In a way, she reminds me of my late Godmother, Margaret. Margaret was this amazing Jamaican woman who knew my mama. I'm not sure how they became friends, as they were like oil and water. She smoked. My mama didn't. She held people in great bear hugs of affection. My mama couldn't. She drank like a fish and swore like a sailor on his first foray onto dry land. My mama never cursed - unless it was in Yoruba and I had no idea of its meaning! Yes, they were so different, but she trusted Margaret with me.  In fact, she looked after me for a couple of years when I was in my preteens when my mama took my brothers back home to be educated. She reminded me of Billie Holliday, as she used to always wear a gardenia in her hair; she had this husky, sing song voice vibrating with love and compassion for mankind. She was a treat; I still hunger and miss her presence. I guess that's why I've always, always felt some kind of affinity with people from the Caribbean - more so than my own folk from Nigeria. Its the truth. I never pretended to be something else, but it was this warm familiarity that made me feel at ease and relaxed. That's also another reason why I have visited these islands more than my ancestral homeland. Because I feel a sense of 'belonging'. I mean, look who I married! An amazing and resilient man from - guess where? Yes, the Caribbean!

 Anyway, as I was saying, my dear friend reminds me of my Margaret. She always wants to know if I am well; if I have eaten. In general, she has looked out for me since arriving from Holland. My friend has been a refuge from some of the storms and challenges that I have faced, and I can never thank her enough in all that she has done for me since living in the UK. Her children let me become part of their furniture  unreservedly and again, I am so grateful that they allowed me to live in their space.

So, I am just brushing off the dirt from my collar to all the folk - family included -  who thought that I would not do it; could not do it.  I am shooing away the dust from my feet; getting prepared to take that leap of faith to be somewhere where my uniqueness will be offset by my own perceptions, and what I will  bring with me to this new land.  I am getting ready, like a marathon runner,  for the next part of my journey. I am well aware of the obstacles that I may face, but like other obstacles in my life, I eventually get over and carry on, sprinting and sometimes running.

Hopefully, whoever is reading this blog will come with me on my journey, through my words,  when I migrate this blog to my own domain.

Soon, very soon...

When peace is all you need: The inevitable passing of Whitney Houston.

This morning, after my morning meditation, I switched on my laptop. I wanted to check my email. I went to Yahoo.com and I saw the simple words: 'Singer Whitney Houston Found Dead'. I was shocked; I ran downstairs to inform my sis. We switched on Sky News and watched the truth unfold before our stunned and tear laden eyes, just to confirm the headline that I had just read. She was really and truly gone; the light had dimmed.

I'm not a person who star worships or puts 'celebrities' up on pedestals. Don't  get me wrong, I love the odd bit of gossip now and then, but I do not live vicariously through the lives of celebrities. And the cult of celebrity right now seems to be a booming industry, both online and offline, but I do not really pay attention to it at all. However, Whitney, to me, personified my growing years; she was the soundtrack to my mid twenties when I first became a mother, and I guess, responsible for another life. I am the same age as Whitney - she was born in August 1963, I was born in September 1963. Obviously, our lives were completely different, but there was always something about Whitney that I was pulling for; even when allegations that turned into truth about her drug use, I wanted to raise her up and believe in her, regardless of her circumstances. She had such a wonderful talent, but when I used to see pictures of her looking unkempt and bedraggled, coming out of seedy nightclubs - especially the last images I saw of her the other day - I shook my head and my inner voice joined the ongoing cacophony of the choir judging Whitney.

Whitney's voice brings back so many sweet memories for me, and her voice was  extraordinary when she was at the apex of her vocal dexterity.  But the positive always aligns, like the planets,  with the negative when writing about Whitney. It was well documented in the media about her demons, but don't we all have our own internal demons? This is not to excuse or justify what she was doing with herself regarding her drug use, but it seems so sad so tragic, may I say, so inevitable, from what I have read so far, of her dying alone in a hotel room in Hollywood.

I'm sure all of the salacious and scandalous stories will emerge like a cancerous tumour in the aftermath of her passing; the blame pointed squarely at her ex husband, Bobby Brown for leading her down this drug laden path, and other negative variables surrounding her death; the superficial tributes and chatter from her 'friends' and from the very industry that she was part of, that inevitably, was the loss of herself and physical death of Whitney Houston.


But from me, a lover of great music and who appreciated the stellar quality of your amazing vocals, Whitney, your voice was superlative. Period. Nobody in my lifetime, in my opinion, could touch you when you sang.

Whitney, my sweet, blessed sister, you had your raging demons, that were always on display  and broadcast  like venom to the world. We have them as well, but we are fortunate that we can hide them so they are not broadcasted and judged  so viciously.

May you rest in eternal paradise Whitney,  and hopefully you can find peace there where you couldn't here, on earth.

The Kindness of Strangers

Today, I cried tears of sorrow and frustration. The realisation of being in an isolated position without any kind of financial independence has finally empowered me to learn a new language. This will enable me to be free of all the ties that are holding me down at the moment.
Earlier on, I was at a bus stop, tears running down my face, and this woman came up to me - somebody who I have never met before and probably will never meet again - she gave me this reassuring touch, telling me that it will be alright. Her English was halting, but she gave me a non verbal look in my eyes;her sense of sincerity rang out empathetically for me. She said I have been in your position. That is all she said. It is like she knew what I was currently going through. I tried to mop up my tears, but I was unsuccessful, as they kept on flowing down my face and into my sodden falling apart tissue - unabated.
I smiled at her as she got on her bus and whispered a 'thank you' to her. God Bless her soul. Sometimes, the kindness of strangers is more gratifying and sincere then from your own loved ones. They haven't got the luggage of friends or loved ones who know you and may judge you in your grief. Thank you again lady for letting me be myself.

The year 2011 is suddenly dawning down on my head. I will learn Dutch and become motivated and empowered in my uphill growth.

I posted Lauryn Hill's video with lyrics, because the song really states what I am feeling right now with my life.
It is an empowering and inspirational song and it gives me a sense of freedom every time I hear it.

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