Month: October 2023

We are all sick!

We are all sick. Did you read that?

Let’s make it sound healthier – we are all healing. Lol. Either way you take it, healing, healed, recovering, recovered, it remains that you got to be ailing to be healing or be healed. 😊

Before I say what I say, know this and know peace – NO ONE HAS IT ALL PUT TOGETHER. No one is perfect. Somewhere, somehow, we are all sick. Don’t only see cancer or HIV or Malaria. One could be ailing with indecision, yet another of a cheating spouse, or of recalcitrant children, or a job loss, or an unattractive life, or a terrible craving, or a sadistic boss, or a rickety car whose handles cannot stay in place, or loneliness, or manipulative friends, or ungrateful and inconsiderate relatives, or a nose dipped in debt, or a despising colleague, or a country in turmoil, or a disorderly church, or the loss of a loved one, or childlessness, or rejection, or constant lack of being understood, and the list can go on and on and on. And truth be told, all these and more gnaw into the very fabric that make who we are in the environments in which we live. These constitute the mental sanitary environment in which we live and are expected to thrive. These all contribute to our mental health.

October 10 was world mental health day. Skip the themes…cuz whether it’s our right or not, enshrined in a constitution or not, provided for by your fellow human or not, one huge tip that will help you stay sane mentally is to know that – NO ONE HAS IT ALL PUT TOGETHER!

You see that all-happy couple, that beautiful posh house owner, that CEO, that Senior MoG, No, they don’t have it all put together. Not the president, not the Director General, not the Bishop and not the Pope. NO ONE HAS IT ALL PUT TOGETHER. Save yourself the strain, pain and pressure to think that or try to want to have it all put together.

Even Jesus had His own oh. The Bible says He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. There were times He wept; times when His heart bled seeing the unbelief and perdition of men. While He was walking and working, things ‘troubled’ Him, so to speak.

As it’s often put, we all have ‘demons’ we’re struggling with.

Driving this home and musing on mental health, I recall this story I was told of this beautiful, eloquent and posh-looking woman whom a sister met at a hospital. They kept a rich conversation, and she was indeed as schooled in speech as she was in person. Then she walked to the reception and asked, “have you please given my letter to the president?”. She was very courteous. Her interlocutor answered in the negative, promising to do so with the least delay. Then she continued “I really love him, I am in no competition with his wife, but he really needs to know that I love him, so he really needs to get my letter”.

Pause!

Which president? Which love? Which letter? Which competition?

You wouldn’t expect that from such a posh-looking woman, right? Some would look at her and imagine a life of heaven on earth. Who would know despite the posh and eloquence, a knot has loosened somewhere? You may expect that of someone who roams the streets, and we’d expect to see a raggedly dressed person eating from thrash, speaking technical nonsense, oozing spittle, babbling and being very incoherent.

But hello…..!!!

No one has it all put together. We are all struggling with something. The strong ones today are not those who claim to have all their shit together. The strong ones are those who can manage their shit and ensure it doesn’t desperately smear all through them.

To illustrate, I may be dealing with a heartbreak now. Me claiming my heart hasn’t ever been shred into pieces by a man born of a woman doesn’t make me strong (This will be me claiming that I have it all put together; and this is a colossal lie) 😊 and that makes me hypocritical.

Me being strong, truly being strong, is being able to grieve over, and grow out of that heartbreak – a better person – rather than let it make me bitter towards everyone who comes my way, or my family and friends, or let it break me to the point I am unable to do other work, or be productive in any other aspect.

To put it straight, this is not me bashing the right to feel pain. Feel pain. You should feel pain. I do feel pain. What I’m saying is – strength is not in claiming that you don’t feel pain. Real strength is seen in the handling of that pain.

Being strong is being real. Being real is being honest that we don’t have it all put together. Jesus was real. He faced His pains, yet thrived. He wept in the presence of others. He is the King of kings. He did not claim to have it all together. Why would/should you?

Do not look for strong people in surface happy and all put together faces. The real strength is in those who can walk you through their survival path. At the end of it, you too can keep a smiling face despite the turmoil you’re in. But then, you’d know the difference between one who puts up a smile as a mask, so you don’t know they’re facing a ‘demon’, and one who wears their smile while walking through life’s prickles.

Know this and know peace – we are all sick. No one is perfect; NO ONE HAS IT ALL PUT TOGETHER!

Selah!

The Gambia six-logy 4 – The Tanji fishing village

The Tanji Fishing village is situated in the northern section of the Kombo South District, West Coast Region of The Gambia. The Gambia enjoys a very vast coastline. Fishing is one of its main economic activities. Apart from The Gambians themselves, Senegalese and Malians are amongst those making the most use of this sector.

It is beautiful watching the fishermen pull in the fishing boats to anchor; and scintillating seeing the young men rushing into the ocean, back and forth with basins of fish on their shoulders. The waves seem to boost them to work. Others are afar off into the ocean, while the women are the busiest on the shore.

“Madam come and buy your fish”, “come here, nice fish for you, fresh fish”, “my friend, won’t you buy fresh fish”, are amongst the refrains they chant to draw customers, or turn visitors like me to one 😊.

The fish is so plenty, some actually end up on the sandy shore. Well, not a waste, as the birds feed off them to their fill. With their beaks, they pick up the pieces, fly over the waters while dipping their ‘catch’ to remove the sand, and fly off ‘chewing’ I guess. Or maybe, preserving it for their young in some nest up a tree trunk.

And a more interesting part, the ‘rainbowish’ paintings of the fishing boats lined up with flags that all but lure you to touch them; feel them. How beautiful! There are many tourist attractions to, and around the fishing village you’d want to savour! This, you can add to the Kachikally museum and war heroes cemetery, or the crocodile pool or their bathroom of fertility.

And then, the Octopus out of Nat Geo😊. Ooppppsssssss! Okay, I get it. For you it’s no big deal. For me, it sure was. I got to see an octopus, live. Well, not so live, dead, but real. But…. It looked xyz.

What do you think?

Some of the fish is smoked and exported to neighbouring countries like Sierra Leone. In the fishing village, other foodstuff is sold, probably to accompany the fish in the kitchen. I didn’t see it being roasted fresh, but I’m darn sure there was such a spot I missed for time’s sake. You probably shouldn’t for anything’s sake! 😊

It was indeed a beautiful sight in which I revelled! Savour the slideshow!

  • Beautifully coloured boats
  • Boats being rowed to shore
  • A heavy catch
  • Avalanche of tourists
  • Excess fish strewn on shore
  • Octopus
  • Busy fish market on the shore
  • Fishing nets
  • Choice catch

HAPPY MONDAY
(c) Image – Etsy.com
Ps. I do not own copyright to the video below (and used here for non-profit purposes). It was shared via WhatsApp some time back, and I’m sharing it to you as ‘coffee’ for the week. No, to hate! Yes, to Love and Unity!
Have a hate-free Monday and a love-full week ahead!
Cheers!

https://youtube.com/shorts/4PsMT6G6-e0?feature=share

To the teachers who believed in us…  

This is a toast to the teachers who believed in us. I constantly think of my teachers as I blow candles and wade through life. Memories abound. I often reminisce the good ole days when I’d go to school Monday to Friday, sometimes Saturdays; times, when I’ll have to read my heart out, and deal with the anxiety of exams, and the desire not to fail any.

It’s also time when I remember the teachers that poured into me, and some who continue to. I appreciate them lots, and by the way, I’m a personal advocate for more pay for teachers at nursery/kindergarten levels compared to those at higher levels. If you ask me why, I’ll take you to one of those kindergarten schools in my city of residence. I don’t know how it obtains elsewhere, but these teachers, often women, are at the same time teachers, mothers, nannies, cleaners, jesters, and they comfortably wear every single hat that every single child has need of at a given time. And mind you, some, looking at where I come from, get a monthly pay of the paltry sum of 25,000 FCFA (approximately 35$ or 38 Euros) .

It’s World Teacher’s Day 2023. The 2023 theme is “The teachers we need for the education we want: The global imperative to reverse the teacher shortage“. Today’s not about their pay, but about their service. Times become harder as years wind by. Many I know have embraced the teaching profession not as a calling, but as a means to earn their bread. It’s more a matter of the hands than of the heart. I’ve no key issue with that. Afterall, we all thresh the grain to have some bread, right?

However, yesterday, I got talking with one of my mamas. And I asked her “what’s the best memory you have of any of your teachers?”. She searched, and the first that popped up was the best – on the negative end.

“One of my teachers once saw me hit another pupil. The next day, she publicly shamed me. She didn’t even ask what had happened. Sure, I had some fault in it, but that was not all to the story. It didn’t end there. She developed some particular hatred for me. Sometimes, when she sees me passing, since we lived around the same neighbourhood, she’d throw water on me, prompting me to cross the road. I was in class 4 about, less than 10, but I still remember that clearly”.

As my mama shared this experience that happened some 30+ years ago, I could only imagine how hurtful such bullying was, from the part of a teacher.

And then I continued my quizzing. “Besides that teacher, isn’t there any other?”

And there came this epic one, which seemed like the flipside of the first experience she’d shared … her principal. This principal seemed to right all the wrongs of her previous experience.

“I’d been wrongly dismissed for misconduct in Uppersixth (high school), and it was way into the school year. I had to get into a new school and the principal called me in and said, “if I take your file to the committee, they won’t accept you”.

My mama responded “I am not a bad child. What was said was not true and they didn’t want to hear me out; they concluded I was rebellious. If you can trust me, I will not disappoint you”.

He trusted her. He looked at her and said “I don’t know why, but I will give you a chance. Do not disappoint me”.

And that was all my mama needed. The trust; someone who believes her, and who believes in her. And he added another ingredient – encouragement. And yet another ingredient – Follow-up.

My mama shares that “I started working hard so I don’t disappoint him, and if I thought of going astray, I would remember him and realign. He will come to school and check on me. I was away from my parents, and sometimes when I felt overwhelmed or down, he would encourage me”.

“He really helped me, and because of him and the trust, I made it. When I passed my exam, he called my tutor to share the news, and he was very happy for me. I can’t recall his name, he was aged; he might be dead now, but he struck me, he believed in me, pushed me, encouraged me, and today, I am partly what I am because he believed in me”.

And he said to my mama “I did well to trust you”. My mama spoke of him with so much delight and pride.

He contributed to what she is today. He poured into her. He taught, nurtured and believed in her. These ingredients are what this generation of learners, like every other, desperately has need of.

We’re wont of teachers who see learners as a means to their pay check, because this would mean easy offense at the slightest hitch in the learning process. We need teachers who invest of themselves in us, encourage, nurture and walk alongside their students in the learning process. We  need you, dearest teacher, to hang on, not give up on us, even when we’re at our worst. In fact, at such times, we need you the most.

Like my mama’s principal, we need you to believe in us!

Cheers to the teachers who despite the odds, believed in us. Thanks to you, we are what we are today!

(c) Image – Dream Foundation