If it is God’s will……

I am a Christian, and believe in God’s will. I have seen seemingly impossible situations turned around, because I believe it was God’s will, and I truly believe that with God nothing shall be impossible. In many cases where one has already done ones best God’s will is usually what makes the difference.

But, now the big but is that I totally reject as false the belief in ‘if it is God’s will, nothing can prevent it from happening’, when one has not done one’s best. If you have not yet recognised it as such, this post is a RANT!!!!

I urgently need for my sister to be here in two weeks time. The first time we discussed this issue was at the beginning December, and she told me that particular week would be best because she would be on a training trip to the UK and could afterwards fly over for a week or so. Now, the visa procedure for a private family visit here entails getting an official invitation letter from the town hall (against a small fee), the original copy of which the potential visitor would need to present at the embassy during their appointment. Together with this document, they’d need a copy of the host’s birth certificate, if related, their own original birth certificate, health insurance as well as the other minor required documents.

Now I know from experience that getting an appointment is the bottleneck in the whole visa application process, for the country I live in, so I told her to already start working on getting an appointment as early as possible. I was unable to get the iv done as early as I’d have liked it, and I had to send DH*. He got it done and sent it via snailmail on Dec 23. We got into an argument over that as I was of the opinion that he should have sent it via DHL. Lo and behold, the package arrived at home during the first few days of January (Kudos to Nipost). I again repeated the ‘please work on getting the appointment’ plea. She assured me she – would. I called weekly to find out her progress.

So, would someone please explain to me why she only started trying to get an appointment last week only to realise that her passport would be expiring in April, so she had to apply for a new passport, which she only got last Friday. Since one’s passport is not required to get an appointment, I wonder why she needed to abandon the quest for an appointment, which by the way was left way too LATE!!!! Anyways, here we are, four days before she flies off to London and she is still trying to get an appointment. Of course, things have since turned to ‘don’t worry, my God has assured me that things will work out’; ‘if it is God’s will, I will get the visa and be there’; ‘what’s even the big deal about the visa sef, kini mo fe wa mu ni ilu won**, afterall I just want to come see my sister who lives there.

Father, forgive me if my faith is not strong enough to see how you can act through this shoddy planning to enable M be here in February as planned/desired.

I have seen this scenario re-enacted time and time again, this, I-am-not-suffering-in-Nigeria- they-should-even-be-happy-that-I-am-thinking-of-visiting-their-country-so they-should-bend-all-their-rules-and-anyway why-do-they-have-so-many-rules attitude. I have seen it more times than I can count. An uncle of mine came into the UK sometime last year telling me that he was heading to the Netherlands for a conference in two days time – meanwhile he hadn’t bothered to get the visa in Nigeria, because the process was so long – he planned on going to the Dutch embassy in London, getting the visa processed, ‘express visa’ he said, and then heading directly to Waterloo to catch the Eurostar, for which he already had a ticket. Of course it didn’t work out.
And instead of realising it was his fault the only thing he could say was ‘ they should go to hell, there isn’t anything special about their country and its their loss; What stupid rules’. Stupid rule or not, it is still their rule, and its is clearly written on their website and in all the information brochures that you can only get a visa in your country of residence and I mean, he had known about the conference for months!!! And this is a man who expects blind obedience to his wishes from members of his own family o.

That’s why I try to refrain from joining the continuous bashing of our leaders. Fine, they don’t follow the rule of law, but neither do most Nigerians, including, as annoying as I find it, even members of my immediate family. Our ‘bigman’ mentality makes us believe that we at least should be above the law, which was made for the common man. May God help Nigeria!

Hey, anyone care to substitute for my sister?


* - Dear Husband
** -what’s the big deal about the visa, there isn't anything I need in their country

Things that meant a lot to me growing up: My cards

We are a letter writing, card giving family. I got Birthday cards appropriately filled with gushing words from adoring parents for as long as I can remember growing up. I remember poring over the cards for days on end, they made me feel warm and loved by my parents. It gave me a warm protected feeling, taking the place of hugs and goodnight kisses. Since my parents settled back in Nigeria, for some weird reasons, I had become highly uncomfortable with the rough hugs my father gave us. I know it is his way of showing love, but he hugs in a funny way still till this day trying to force my 20 something head on his shoulders. I bear it nowadays because, heck, I only see the man about once a year. But I digress.

I got Birthday cards from my siblings and friends as well. I got Success cards when I had exams and Congratulation cards when I passed my exams. I got Easter cards and Christmas cards as well. I got Get-well-soon cards and Be-my-val cards. Well only one Be-my-val card, but it still counts, doesn't it? I also loved to give cards. I pored for minutes in gift shops trying to pick out the exact card which would convey the intensity of my feeling for my mom/ dad/ siblings/friends, in fact for who ever it was I was getting the card for.

I have saved all my cards since I was about 10, maybe, and I carry them around with me. That is one of the few indulgences I allow myself in my worldwide voyage. I have left furniture behind without batting an eyelid, shed a few tears over some books before eventually leaving them behind, left things behind with the hope of eventually returning to get them sometime, but never my cards. I always take them with me. They are of the utmost importance to me. Even if I only pore through them once every year, or sometimes even more irregularly, yet I know they are there waiting to take me years down memory lane, to that card from daddy on my 13th birthday, that card in which my mummy wrote how proud of me she was, that first handmade card from Eddie or that christmas card from my friend T whose becoming a mother anytime from now........The only thing that means more to me than my cards are my letters.......but that is a post for another day.

Childhood Memories: Billy the Goat

When I was 10 or 11, my grandmother gave us a goat for a Christmas present. We took the goat with us from Ibadan, all four of us excited. It had to stay in the boot for the duration of the journey, and we kept worrying if it had enough air. While driving, we decided on a name for him. We decided on Billy. Billy was a she though, and we put her in our BQ. Finally, we had a pet of our own, we'd always wanted a dog, but Billy would do just fine.
Billy was such a sweet goat, she ate grass from our hands, stood on two hooves on our chest, was just perfect! She was white, with black spots, and had two outgrowths from her neck that looked like tiny bells. Billy had Betty, about a year later (she was probably pregnant when we got her). Betty was white with brown spots. Later, Billy had Bobby; I don't remember how that happened. He was a light brown colour and it was immediately obvious that it was a he goat (apart from his organs); he just looked very masculine, for a goat. How I loved those goats. I remember my best friend T teasingly calling Billy my sister, when we only had her. These animals affected even my parents.
We totally loved those goats, and didn't even mind too much having to clean after them. They totally rubbished the BQ, practically tearing down the door of the room where they lived, and inspecting all the other rooms, obviously leaving behind evidence, :)
Knowing Naija parents, I guess you know what came next. Billy was the first to go. Then went Bobby. We kids cried our eyes out and were inconsolable for a while. We ended up eating some of the meat later though - its sort of macabre sha. Betty had twins, which we had to give away, because my parents had had enough. Betty was the last to go.

I'll never forget my darling goats, and especially Billy. Thinking about them evokes wonderful memories of all the innocence and carefree happiness of my childhood, of a time when all was perfect, to mind.