I grieve for Moses

Imagine with me for a moment that you were Moses; brought up in the palace to experience the very best, attempts to rescue people from their enemies and probably expects a pat on the back. Instead he gets a condemnation and is forced into “hard” exile. Imagine a Prince tending sheep in the wilderness. Imagine a lord becoming a servant. Fast forward forty years and he is sent back to the very people who had caused him to go into exile. He becomes their leader and takes them out of bondage, but are they grateful? Yes, for a short while; and then the complaints begin. From one thing to another, nothing ever seemed good enough, they frustrated Moses to no end. He stood in the gap, he prayed for them, led them and gave his all, yet they complained at every turn and finally, he yielded to frustration and disobeyed GOD!
Then he lost the prize, he would not see the promised land, after all the years of enduring every type of suffering for the sake of these people, a moment of anger cost him the reward. I cannot imagine what he must have felt when God made that pronouncement but I doubt that he was happy. It’s a mark of his humility that he accepted the decision without any protest but I grieve for him and people like him. Followers can frustrate a leader to anger but we must be careful not to disobey God and lose sight of our purpose. Followers are generally selfish and fickle and only the wise leader can manage recalcitrant followers without losing out. Be they children, employees, church members or other followers, whenever you feel frustrated and ready to give up, remember there’s a promised land just around the corner. Don’t give up, look up, don’t yield to anger, refocus. Whatever you do, remember Moses. Selah

Enter the new Pope

Okay, so the catholic church has elected, appointed or anointed a new Pope. What does this mean for the rest of us non-Catholics? On the surface, not much I guess; but he is the head of the largest body of Christians on Earth and that should count for something, shouldn’t it? I mean what if the new Pope becomes born again and begins to preach baptism of the Holy Spirit? What if he spoke in tongues? ( I don’t mean Latin tongues). What if he begins to practice the entire new testament? Imagine with me for a moment if he lifts the ban on celibacy for priests. What if he were to declare that there is no other name given under heaven whereby men may be saved except the name of Jesus? What if? what if? what if?

I know, I’m a writer and my imagination often gets the better of me but didn’t Jesus say that “with God all things are possible?” Didn’t the Bible say “….exceedingly, abundantly, above all I can imagine…..?”

The Pope has asked for prayer and I’m going to pray for him, that he will be filled with the knowledge of God’s will, in all wisdom and spiritual understanding. That he would walk worthy of the Lord and be fully pleasing to Him….” I will pray, yes, I will pray

The Railway crossing


She hurriedly rolled away her mat and rushed to the big water pot. The cup hit the bottom of near emptiness. She sighed in frustration. She had instructed her younger daughter to fill the pot from the village stream yesterday and she had been so tired after dinner that she had gone to bed without checking if her instructions had been carried out. Obviously they had not and this would mean at least five trips to the stream before sunrise. She sighed again as she unlatched the door and stooped low to step out into the biting cold of the early morning. She washed the residue of sleep from her face and pushed her fingers across her teeth and rinsed her mouth vigorously and spat far into the distance. She poured more water into her mouth and gargled before again spitting it out.
“Good morning Mama na!”, her young neighbour called out in greeting as she turned back to her hut. “good morning, my dear! I didn’t notice you in the dark, did you sleep well?”
“Yes I did Mama na, I hope you did too?” please will you be going to the stream this morning?”
“I’m just about to do so, let me get my water pot and join you”
“Thank you Mama na” 
She smiled to herself as she bent down to pick the smaller pot used for fetching water from the stream. She knew the young lady was too scared to make the kilometre trek to the stream in the dark. But who could blame her? The footpath was quite narrow and bushy on both sides with the occasional menacing shape of a tree along the winding path. She was a young bride from another village and she was not yet used to the ways of her new home. Mama na chose to ignore her still sleeping daughters and finish up her early morning chores by herself.
Two hours later she was ready to go. She looked up anxiously at the sun which was slowly making its way up from behind the trees close to her house. She gingerly balanced the basket of dankwa on her head, took the outstretched bucket of groundnuts from her older daughter with her right hand and collected the low stool and raffia tray from her younger daughter with the other hand. She hardly ever got the chance to sit down but she took the stool anyway. She made her way quickly but surely to her destination, her marketplace, her sure source of livelihood, the place that made it possible for her daughters to attend the school three villages away where they would learn how to be better than her; she hurried there, because soon the vehicles will come and they would slowly grind to a near halt and the hungry passengers would start buying. If she got there early enough she could finish her wares before noon and still have enough time on the farm before coming home to prepare the family’s evening meal.
Soon her destination came into view and she could see her fellow traders gathering. Some idle men were beginning to loiter as they always did; they had no real business there nor anywhere else for that matter but they liked to hang around wherever there was promise of action. And there was plenty of action here, all the latest news, the stories from far away, the beautiful people in the cars and buses passing by. The strange looking women and prosperous looking men all passed through here. This was where it all happened every day. It was the centre of all commercial activity and the harbinger of all news, good or bad. It was the railway crossing

Dedicated to all hardworking village women across Africa on International Women’s day 2013

Some things in this country never cease to amaze me. How do politicians live with their consciences for instance? This weekend I had to go to Makurdi for an assignment; it was my first time and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew it was a largely agricultural society famous for its yams and fruits. I was looking forward to seeing the mighty Benue river and maybe taking some good photographs. The one thing I didn’t prepare for was the level of poverty I saw almost everywhere. The grass and mud huts I saw with my own two eyes was like something from the fifteenth century! How could this level of poverty still be visible so close to a state capital in Nigeria in 2013? How is it possible? The number three man in this country is from Benue state and the road to Makurdi is bad? And he has been there since 1999?

They have a Governor who goes to church? And drives cars? And lives in mansions? Will someone please tell the Governor to go on a ride around his state? He should use his security vote to build houses for these people. He can build a hundred basic homes a month from his security vote! What is wrong with our people? How come these politicians keep getting into and remaining in power? mshewwww

Thank you Jesus!

When I deserved hunger, You fed me
When I deserved pain, You healed me
When I deserved torture, You comforted me
When I deserved misery, You gave me joy
When I deserved turmoil, You gave me peace,
When I deserved death You gave me life
When I deserved nothing, You gave me all

Olorun, Eledumare, Arugbo Ojo, Osonobruwhe,
Provider, Redeemer, Friend, Comforter
Ore ofe Re kpo!
Baba, mo kunle o! emi ayin O!