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!

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

DELIBERATE ABORTION!

This day, 59years ago, was INDEPENDENCE DAY, like it or not.

Well, was it really? It gets tricky putting it on the table in Cameroon without seeming subversive. This is history; the history of Cameroon. Is it a deliberate abortion of relevance?

On October 1, 1961, British Southern Cameroon officially joined the Republique du Cameroun (French Cameroon), birthing thus the Federal Republic of Cameroon.

A major event that led to this was the plebiscite which took place in the British Cameroons (British Northern Cameroon and British Southern Cameroon). The date was 11 February 1961. It was PLEBISCITE DAY, not YOUTH DAY. Over the years, the powers that be have levelled it as Youth Day. Generations rising know it as youth day. Whatever happened to Plebiscite Day? Was it so gory an event that requires it be blotted? Last I read, people did not die. Or did they and we are not told? If they youths are honoured because they came out en masse on that day, why not let the youths of today know EXACTLY WHY the youths of that day came out en masse? Is this another deliberate abortion?

British Northern Cameroon voted then to join Nigeria, and they are there till date. Then president Ahmadou Ahidjo declared June 1 National Mourning Day. That was in memory of our countrymen who had gone to Nigeria. What has become of that landmark? Another deliberate abortion?

British Southern Cameroon voted to join La Republique du Cameroun and we are here till date. One thing led to the other. Sessions, cessions and concessions ensued; the federal system was swooped in a melancholic toss of YES and OUI. Ideas became Spartans. The Trusteeship head and its colonial fingers were blamed. That was what was. The Anglophone crisis has been raging since!

Bloodied water swept under the bridge; 2019 seemed epic. Hurayy, OK leaders were no longer arrested on October 1. Rather, the ‘fire’ hearts made a huge fest. They told who wanted to hear that it was a great day. They printed T-shirts, summoned cameras, sounded gongs in much ado about nothing. That is when the Grand National Dialogue was still steaming in hearts and mouths, intended to masturbate seeking minds and muzzle questioning tongues.

This is 2020, 59years down the lane. Who says what? Everything gets blamed on Covid-19, I’m sure. But the pandemic has not withheld bullets from flying, or soldiers from arresting, or pockets from filling up with cash from another’s brow.

If it be true, I’m sure Foncha and the other October 1, 1961 signatories on the British Southern Cameroon side are rolling in their graves. He lamented before resigning from the CPDM in 1990. The 6th point in his letter read:

“The Anglophone Cameroonian whom I brought into the Union have been ridiculed and referred to as “les Biafrians”, “les enemies dans la maison”, “les traites’ [traitres], etc., and the constitutional provisions which protected this Anglophone minority have been suppressed, their voices drowned while the rule of the gun has replaced the dialogue which Anglophones cherish very much.“

His letter makes me believe so. Like a virgin led to a skanky macho-man – abused, used, wasted and abandoned to a sorry fate, Foncha and co. really do have reason to turn in their graves. They signed this union. All what happened seemed a deliberate abortion. Blotting this day, October 1, in Cameroon, is a deliberate abortion. And I think all what is happening is a continuous deliberate abortion.

Crying woman, pain and grief concept, flag of Cameroon

Signatories to the reunification deal, Oct. 1, 1961 – Buea

Long live a reunified Cameroon: Sthn Cameroon delegates in Foumban, 1961

Cameroon for Peace, Prosperity and Performance

(c)spreadshirt.com

ARE WE UNITED NOW?

DEAR FADA 02

Dear Fada

Are you back from your trip? You know I wasn’t also around, so, seems I’ve lost track of who’s in and who’s out. I remember the last time you were going on one of your private trips which so deprive home of you, I almost cried. Not just that I knew how extensive the short private visit would take, you know, but, I just kept wondering why you’d allow your children to suffer so much just because you have to move.

The taxi I took dropped me off at a good distance; and he collected the full fare. Can you imagine? And I had to cross the central town on foot. The traffic was horrible. I had to guard my feet from slipping, and my bag from your rebellious sons. I thought that was all, but getting another taxi was what we call “hélélé”. I was rushing to honour my appoint with our biggest Father. Oh, Fada, thanks to you, I erred. That distance would have cost me at the most 150FCFA. Do you know what the cabdrivers requested? 250FCFA or nothing else. That may perhaps not mean much to you, considering my sister spends exorbitant sums of money out there. Anyways, I had to give them Fada. I had no choice. Big Father was already present. He’s always present when you are absent.

But, their peers along the other road could not get a franc from me. Do you know that …,? I mean, I know that you know that that is what they do. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder. Don’t you pay them Fada? Or is the problem the fact that the pay is not enough? I feel so ashamed and vexed seeing how debased they become when they start asking for a ‘bottle of beer’. I even wonder whether they’re supposed to take alcohol while on duty. And who would even dare question them? Is their boss not sitting behind waiting for his share at the end of the day? So you understand Fada, I feel so ashamed. They’re disgracing us; they’re disgracing your name Fada; our name.

So, let me recount to you what happened huh! I have decided none of them would ever get a dime from me. Never, never ever, and I pray the Big Father helps me.

I was with one of your brother’s children. She had come visiting, and forgot to bring along her vaccination certificate. Her arrival was peaceful; her return was shameful.

Mr. Soldier was doing random checks. He took her passport, and asked for her health certificate. She said she didn’t have it on her. He said nothing. He strolled out of the bus. We waited for some time and we didn’t see him coming back towards us. I asked your brother’s daughter to stay in the bus and I went down. “Bonsoir”, I greeted. Fada, I can’t even remember whether he answered or not. He said something I didn’t understand, or rather, didn’t want to understand. Calmly, he called the already impatient Mr. Driver of the public transport bus to help me understand and stop wasting their time.

“Si tu as même un petit jus, donne leur on part. Il fait déjà bien tard”.

I told Mr. Driver I did not have “shishing”. Mr. Driver didn’t budge. Mr. Soldier didn’t budge. Trust me Fada; your daughter didn’t also budge. Then Mr. Soldier asked the driver to take my bags down because I refused to ‘act mature’.

Timely enough, one true son of the soil showed up. He was a commander, or so, he presented himself. He asked Mr. Soldier if “my” passport was good and the latter answered “yes”. Mr. Commander then asked what the problem was, and Mr. Soldier replied that he was trying to tell me that I need to walk with my complete ID documents “I’m just trying to do my job, and that is what I’ve been explaining to her ever since’, he explained. Mr. Commander prompted that if at least the passport was valid, they should let me go, and before Mr. Soldier obeyed, he scrutinized the passport, pointed his torch at my face, and then at the passport, and finally handed it back to me.

Fada, during all this so called ‘scrutiny’ and ‘just-doing-my-job’ time, Mr. Soldier hadn’t noticed it wasn’t my passport. Fada, do you know that I and your brother’s daughter look no inch alike? Our complexions are also different. I speak like a typical child of yours, but you can imagine that your brother’s daughter would speak like children that are typical of her own father.

I just imagined how mean he could have been, had Mr. Commander not given his timely ‘command’. I also tried to imagine how many hoodlums and ‘terrorists’ such Mr. Soldiers have allowed to enter the house because they failed to do their work properly and amply, paying attention to the least detail, and not only at the ‘bottle of beer’ they can make out of it. I know that you know what these Mr. Soldiers do out there, Fada. Would you let them go on? And by the way Fada, did he have the backing to demand the vaccination certificate where he was? I thought specific authorities were mandated to check that. Anyways, at home, everyone does what he/she wills. Right, Fada?

Just like you; and my siblings of “Air-Peut-être”. Can you imagine the name they’ve been given Fada? Even the meanest of your brothers, who is sometimes not able to put food on his table, is confident enough when he calls them that. And what can I say Fada. The last time I tried to defend, “Air-Peut-être” covered my face with shame. I decided never to talk again; perhaps just to pray, and hope things get better.

The number of bosses they’ve had is way more than the number of aircrafts they have. And I think too their ancient hostesses may soon be competing with you for longevity of service. No doubt they’re unable to keep standard. Fada, imagine my embarrassment when I had to dust off breadcrumbs from the seat I was allotted. And when they decided to serve me fruit juice and something else, breadcrumbs on the folded table didn’t look like yesterday’s. It looked as ancient as the hostesses. I don’t eat pork. You know it’s possible I am allergic to it, or many others could be. They had only pork. No tuna, no veggies, just pork. And whosoever didn’t eat pork could have as well gone to he… And those seats Fada. I almost thought I’ll incur the wrath of one of the fiery ancients trolling the aisle when I failed to put up my seat as her ancient colleague intoned overhead. Miss. Ancient didn’t budge. She very well knew that seat couldn’t be raised up.

Hahahaha Fada, it’s like all the rats in the former house we occupied visited the airplane. They had entered into a love union with the chair arms and backs. The remains of the remains were awfully shameful. As shameful as the dirty wagon those trains use to travel up north.

Before the sad fate hit Eseka, it was much better, though much more unsafe with the unreliable ‘Shinshong’ wagons. The seats then smelled good. They sometimes smelled fresh. We’d have the luxury of a hot meal or a cold drink, a clean seat or a semi-cozy bed. There were many wagons then, and it seemed fine. I feel sad for those who perished last year with the ‘Shinshong trains’. I thank God that it has kind of saved us from a likely fate with the mobile death trucks. But, I feel great pity for us who have stayed behind to endure the measureless semi-measures psychedelically upped by commissions that amount to nothing.

Ohhh Fada, who would take us out of this sham? I thought you would when you ascended. Yes, ascended. It’s more like the throne of our forefathers. I understand why you’re still there. But like our forefathers, they have become fore. You too will. I will become; and I too will have fore appended to me, someday; one day.

Take care Fada!

Your daughter,

Sally.

 

DEAR FADA 01

Dear Fada,

The other day, I watched PM Trudeau and Presi. Trump granting a press conference over Cable News Network. How I wished I could be seeing you standing and talking in place of Trudeau. Do you know he started in French, and then switched to English, and then back to French and then to English right until the end of his speech. It was so beautiful, seeing the ease with which he flowed with both lingos. I just so wished I’d be seeing you standing someday speaking to the entire world in languages you say are ours. Yours and mine!

Fada, never mind! I’m also so conscious that that could be a long long long deep deep deep dream; but, not impossible though; because if Martin’s dream could come true, how much more mine? I’d keep dreaming. One day, who knows? Just maybe, one day, someday soon enough!

You know, I’m past 20, and since I breathed my first on this earth, on this side of the globe, you’ve been there. Perhaps I’ve been watching TV or listening to radio for the past 15 or so years, and I sincerely can’t remember  ever hearing, I mean, NEVER ever hearing you so adorn your speeches with OUR family lingos. But then, I also remember you saying they are ours, right? So, I’m just wondering how come you never have, if you’re so proud of it, as you’ve asked me to believe? How?

Well, dreams do come true, or rather, they almost do. Someday, I thought mine was about coming true. That was same month 3years ago. I was in the town of Legendary hospitality. You were there too. On that day, I was so happy, just so happy; and as I told my friends in Yaounde and my family back in Mamfe, I too would want to tell youths, like Ngoh would tell us in “The Place To Be”, that “I was there”.

Yes! I was there. I braved the scorching heat; and with the shiny green chasubles the organizing committee gave us I was busy telling my juniors to keep moving. I failed to even buy sunscreen with the… was it 2000Fcfa ‘encouragement fee’! Lol J But nevertheless, I was there! I still want to tell my brothers and sisters to KEEP MOVING! Forward ever!

It was during the celebration of the 50th anniversary of our “union”. Well you said it was 50. With the little Arithmetic I did in G.B.P.S Yaounde, 1961 – 2014 would make 53, not 50. But still, maybe the arithmetic I learnt wasn’t the right one after all. Maybe that’s why the teachers are saying they rather not teach while they watch others “unteach” their progeny.

Sorry Fada, I seem to go ‘off-head’ some days. And you see, it makes me forget that the norm for our house is that things move backward. I always seem to forget we’re getting very good at that. It’s the trend! Like in the North West and South West regions for the past weeks! Well, I’m sure people lived in the dark ages when it was really dark; so, why wouldn’t they live thus now that it’s not. Lol! You really are something else, Fada!

Anyways, on that day, my ears picked some familiar sounds. But then, before I could sit them in, they had gone as swiftly as they had come. Let’s say the other times I have heard such are when you say “I do so swear”. You know, I sometimes wonder what you really so swear to. Is it to what we think you are swearing to, or to what you have in mind that you’re swearing to? How I’d like to know whether you really do believe in what you have so often sworn to. And then, how come the same persons make you swear to the same things you swore to the last time you did swear. Oh, sorry, that was just swearing. It wasn’t really ‘meaning’. Right? Perhaps wrong. I stand to learn better, and be corrected if need really be. I think you should also swear to that. How about that? Huh Fada?

Each time our uncles visit and we visit them, be it at our home or in theirs, I’d thought you’d let them; and their neighbours, as well as ours, who peep through those small beautiful cracks in our wall. You know, when they peep through and see the bookshelf, it is so orderly they know we’re gurus. Hahahaha, poor them! If a fairy could just whisper in their ears we’ve never really glanced through a handful of those, well, you know what I mean. Anyhow Fada, I always wonder why you never let our uncles, or the peeping neighbours and even the “Amebohs” know what you so sing in my ear that I should imbue in me. Why don’t you tell them, or rather, SHOW them it is imbued in you. Once in school, I was told that experience is the best teacher. Show us, and we’ll follow you. Ohhhhhh; Fada, wait! Are you of the school of those who say “Do what I say and not what I do”, noooooo! That’s not good. Fortunately, a wise teacher told me once whenever people say such; really, they are what they do and not what they say. Was he right Fada?

Would you rather I do what you do and say what you say, and be at peace with you? Or do what you say and don’t do what you do and be at peace with you? Or what else? Please Fada, come straight sometimes. Please! It helps me understand you; what you like, what you don’t,  what you want, what you don’t want, what you want me to say, and what you wouldn’t like to hear me say, even if I have to.

Reminds me of some of my friends. I think they really didn’t know what you wanted them to say. Or better still, they didn’t say as you said. I think that was their crime. You know. They said what they said because you told them they had the right to say it. But then, they failed to understand that they were not supposed to do what you say, but rather, they had to do what you do. Ahhhh, they aren’t your true children right? Adopted, perhaps? Imposed, perhaps? Whatever!

Ooooppps, we’re past St. Sylvester, St. Valentine, and soon St. Spring will be bouncing in. I just hope it wouldn’t be the spring my cousins in the dessert cassock led some few years back. Ahhh no, no, no, no. That Spring was a spring to reckon with. Noooo, though it ushered in some fresh air, water, mixed with … Perhaps we really need spring! What do you think Fada?

Well, we’ll soon be in May too. It’s somehow our national month; you know; though the way it came to be is a matter for another day. Let’s see how we plan that feast in the house.

Ohhh Fada, Little strokes fell great oaks!

Perhaps the binding cords are far more resistant than the heat of May; don’t you think? I can see a will. A will to be. Do you have that will to be Fada?

A surfer once said, and I paraphrase “If you see snakes, kill them; don’t create a commission on snakes”.

Dearest Fada, if you are proud of your lingos, show it; don’t create a commission on them. You’re our Fada. We are yearning to learn from you. Do, so that we can do.

Remember Fada, little strokes fell great oaks!

Ohhhh, goodness me, ouch, I forgot. Well, but then, not a big deal, is it? Since at home we’re good at the backward move, it’s not so bad after all, right Fada? Happy birthday in arrears!

Your daughter,

Sally.

NO TWO TRUTHS

Things are dangling blue and white; We tell not wrong from right

As days go by, darkness from light; We lose track of the sight

Today we’re male, tomorrow not; The sun couldn’t well be hot

Or better still I’ll tie the knot; With a beautiful escargot

Guess it’s better today I am canid; Man’s ways suck, so I’ve got to be candid

With myself, as with every hominid; Did I say hominid, no; I feel I’m a canid

 

The truth shall set thee free!!!

All who receive Christ have gotten the right to become “children of God”, not otherwise. (John 1:12). That passage clearly says sons of God, not something else of God. For the several human beings struggling today with their identity, some confessing and believing they are Christians; I think the solution is knowing who you are in Christ Jesus.

Romans 8:16 says “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God”. Children, as heirs, and co-heirs with Christ Jesus, could only be those who identify themselves to Him, those who identify themselves to His family, those who abide by His life and His kingdom.

Not those who deny Him, His truth and righteousness and cloak themselves with the deceit of this world; not those who seek vain approval and acceptance of the traditions of men.

God has given us all freewill; He has given us the choice to choose what we want for ourselves. Nevertheless, when we do so, we shouldn’t hide under the cloak of “Christian”, because a Christian or a disciple of Christ is a follower of Christ who accepts His way of life and living.

This world is going topsy-turvy not even because of the heinous claims that abide and are backed by the powers that be, but because the true sons of God do not stand up for what is right. Mind us that the Bible calls us to put away falsehood and speak the truth, especially for those who say they are one with us, one with the body of Christ (Ephesians 4:25)

Whoever can do what he/she wants; but whoever says he/she is of Christ does not do what he/she wants, but what Christ wills. There are some things which even in the basest levels, are not acceptable; even the more for Disciples of Christ that we claim and strive to be. No good comes out of such. This is the truth of God’s word given to us His children.

The Bible says this “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. (Romans 12:2)

Stick to the truth of God’s word; God bless your soul!

 

“…nobody’s ambition is worth the blood of any Nigerian…” – Goodluck Jonathan

“As I have always affirmed, nobody’s ambition is worth the blood of any Nigerian. The unity, stability and progress of our dear country is more important than anything else”.

Last Saturday, March 28, 2015, Nigerians took to the polls to elect a president amid tension and high security concerns. The two main presidential candidates, outgoing Goodluck Ebelle Jonathan and incoming General Muhammadu Buhari signed an agreement to prevent violence in the tightly contested elections earlier on March 26.

The two promised to respect the outcome of a credible poll and urged their supporters to refrain from violence, the BBC reported.

With results announced in all states, opposition candidate General Buhari of the All Progressives Congress (APC) won the presidential election by more than 2.1 million votes. Outgoing president Goodluck Jonathan of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) conceded defeat on 31 March in elections marking the first time an incumbent president loses re-election in Nigeria.

I read through the Nigerian President’s speech acknowledging opposition’s victory in last weekend’s general election, and stumbled upon this powerful part – “As I have always affirmed, nobody’s ambition is worth the blood of any Nigerian…”

Such an opinion to me resonates victory, and afterward Goodluck confirms that “Today, the PDP should be celebrating rather than mourning. We have established a legacy of democratic freedom, transparency, economic growth and free and fair elections“.

To get to a point where personal ambition is set aside for the good of a country, already marred by so much bloodshed, speaks so much for the better.

Experts believe the outgoing president has been very instrumental in preventing unrest, in his concession of defeat. A disputed result would very probably have sent the country riding a bumpy path.

Later in the statement, the outgoing president says “I promised the country free and fair elections. I have kept my word”.

Gen. Buhari takes office by the end of May 2015, and prospects already seem blissful, as less than 24 hours since the proclamation of results, the Nigerian national index and currency has soared.

Left to see how well the polemized Boko Haram insurgency in the North East of the country will be handled, for the greater good of the Nigerian people.

23 EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL ON THE BODY

Alcoholism, like smoking, is a physical addiction affecting the physical, mental, social, familial, or work-related responsibilities of an individual.

On Friday, September 12, 2014, the production and importation of whiskies in sachets and plastic containers officially stopped in Cameroon. The government of the country took to the decision, despite the economic losses the country might suffer as a result of the ban.

Cameroon imported as of 2013, over 1,880 metric tons of whisky, to the tune of over 3.6 billion FCFA. People will also have to let go of jobs, both in local and foreign enterprises, afore involved in the production and importation of the substance.

The damages are enormous, and countless too, are those of alcohol. The smallest amount of alcohol has effects on the body. By effects, I hold on the undesirable ones. From malnutrition to birth defects, from muscle cramps to pancreatic disfunctions, the undesirables are myriad, no part is spared.

Before leaving this page, please click http://www.healthline.com/health/alcohol/effects-on-body

Be informed on the effects of alcohol on the body. It takes just a click, to get a whole lot of knowledge that can be life-saving. A word to the wise…

HELP THEM STAND STRONG THROUGH THE STORM

Mind's Seat

Christians fleeing mortar attacks in Iraq. (Pic: BBC)

It’s all smiles here in the house,

We can dance and play the mouse,

We can wear the crown, the blouse.

It’s all bleeding in their hearts,

They can’t live or sleep on mats,

The bullets burn, they pierce like darts.

You may be living, wondering how happy you are and how free you are to be grateful to God Almighty for your life. Somehow, someone, somewhere, at some time does not have that luxury.

Go to places like Iraq, and you’ll understand what it feels like to be left but with your clothes on; your car, phone, in short, all property seized, because you say you are a CHRISTIAN.

It becomes even frightening when our brothers over there (Mosul) are given the ultimatum to either leave their hometown, because they are Christians, or face death, if they choose to stay. The…

View original post 260 more words

THE SICK HOSPITAL SYSTEM

Eboa Leo has been injured by a collapsed wall surrounding the Government High School, Akwa in Douala. He is a mentally deranged man. He is bleeding, and from what obtains, it could be an internal bleeding that has found its way out via his bottom. He is bad; the sight of him is disheartening. His lips are wounded, and he barely manages to lie on the floor.

Eboa, lying on ruins of the collapsed wall

According to bikeriders who witnessed the collapse, Eboa was sleeping at a spot he usually occupies when the wall broke down. They succeeded in pulling him out, before calling the fire brigade. Elements of the fire brigade have tansported him to the Laquintinie hospital, but one of them returns to the scene really pissed off. “I have taken the man to the hospital, he is between life and death, and the people there have refused to attend to him. He is lying there on the stretcher, and they have not even touched him, even though it is an emergency” he angrily spoke out.

Remains of Eboa’s belongings

And so, I decide to move to the Laquintinie hospital, and true to the fire fighter, Eboa is stil on the stretcher, groaning lowly in pain. He has not been attended to; his clothes are still bloody. I am speechless. I ask to see Eboa, and a hospital attendant to whom I ask if he has been attended to, says “They have just come and left him here, that who should take care of him. It is not because this is a public hospital eh. What should he be treated with. We need money.” And there he lay, poor unfortunate Eboa.
As I turned to leave, the hospital attendant called me back, ” You see there,  they would try to at least clean him and change his clothes. But truly, if they don’t pay, nothing can be done”, he told me.
And so I left, wondering how it could be that  the the walls of a government institution, that the school is, crumbles on a human being; he is transported by a government car by the elements of the national fire brigade; to a government health institution, the Laquintinie hospital; yet, prompt medical attention is denied him because of “money”.
This is just Eboa’s case, and I am sure that several other such cases are recorded and reported day after day in our public health institutions.
Wake up C.G.

BAN ON NON-BIODEGRADABLE PLASTIC BAGS: THE WRONG WAY FORWARD

Since April 24, 2014, the use of non-biodegradable plastics has been banned in Cameroon. Anyone using such plastic bags does so illegally. In markets, pharmacies, supermarkets, shops, grocery stores, fish stores and everywhere else requiring their use, local alternatives are being sought, like the use of old newspapers, cartons, clothes, cement bags, etc.

If you happen to find yourself in a fish shop without some container to carry your fish, then be sure to find it deposited on your cloth, because as you would be told, “il n’y a pas de plastics”, meaning “there are no plastic bags”. If you question why they have no plastic bags for packaging, the response will be “on n’a pas de plastics biodegradables. Les plastics qu’on avait, n’est-ce pas ils sont venus les arrachés? Vous voulez qu’on fasse comment?” (“We have no biodegradable plastic bags. The bags we had have been seized, so what do you want us to do?”)

And so it goes that a stroke at a time, non-biodegradable plastic bags may soon be history. And the reason advanced for this remains that they have negative consequences on the environment, and the health of its inhabitants.

Of course this is true! And I will add that there are even more non-biodegradable plastics to be seized from rivers and streams in the nation’s capital, Yaounde, which often are cause for flooding in the central town; and often causes unhealthy standing water at the backs of homes and even hospitals – a true danger to persons already in danger on hospitals bed.

Typical of Yaounde – Water courses as dwellings for plastics

I will also add that there is even more glaring waste, harmful to the environment and the inhabitants, in the short as well as the long term, like overflowing trash cans, and roads turned to dustbins.

And I will further add, that liquid waste, ensuing from suck-a-ways and overflowing toilets are like streams in prominent markets, like the Acacia market in the Biyem-Assi neighbourhood, Yaounde.

Imagine a lady dressed in trousers, and told that such a dressing is indecent. She is immediately stripped off her garment, and told to get on an acceptable one. Is she expected to remain naked while the alternative is sought? Though the likening to a lady may not avail much, it suffices for me to say before non-biodegradable plastics were to be officially banned in Cameroon; biodegradable alternatives should have been at the disposal of the people.

I do not expect the government to provide the biodegradable plastic bags, neither would I say they shouldn’t do it, if they can. But I think they could have as well spurred actors in the market that could produce such plastics, and ensure their availability in the market before banning those at hand. That, I think, should have been the good government that we expect of it.

HONOUR FOR REUNIFICATION DAY?

This day marks exactly Fifty-two (52) years, since the reunification of Cameroon; the reunion of former British Southern Cameroons, with former East Cameroon. (1 OCTOBER 1961)

Infrastructure for reunification celebrations

Cameroonians pride themselves in the soon-to-come celebrations marking 50 years of reunification, but fail to honour the actual date when the foundation for the celebrations was laid.

52 years after John Ngu Foncha of former West Cameroon, and President Ahmadou Ahidjo of former East Cameroon put their signatories at the historic Mountain Hotel in BUEA, giving birth to a reunified Cameroon, Cameroonians are still bustling with preparations for the celebrations of 50 years of reunification, and one wonders what becomes of the remaining 2 years.

The new reunification stand

According to an interview granted President Paul Biya to State TV, the celebratios for 50 years of reunification, will effectively take place before the end of this year 2013, as he awaits technical irregularities to straigthen up.

Even as the day rides away, no mention of the date’s importance is hinted. Could you wait until you’re 80 years to celebrate your 78th birthday.  You may though, as that’s the reality soon to come to fruition.

Miss Cameroon 2013 contest: cultural delight or disdain?

The Miss Cameroon contest that rounded off last month was a mixture of pride for the Cameroonian folk, as they got to see their beauties from the ten regions, all represented. One might though question how proud the organizers were of their country, as no such pride was exhibited in the sound tracks that accompanied the contestants in their parades.

For youngsters that stood the chance of representing the nation, only their parade in traditional attires was accompanied by Cameroonian music. Stunning enough, their presentation, first display, parade in swim suits, and the final African apparel, were all accompanied by non-cameroonian songs. One would wonder how that demonstrates that the Cameroonian culture would be inculcated into the future representatives of the country.

In COMINADA (the organizing body)’s theme for this year, that can be summarized as “let’s preserve our culture”, one would think the contest would be out to showcase the Cameroonian culture, to clearly tell they are fulfilled with it. But what entails? Foreign music is the order of the day, as the contestants are made to proudly and courageously dance themselves to the tune of the sounds e.g Azonto, Alingo, etc.

Ayena Denise Valerie, blissful Miss Cameroon 2013, was called upon to keep the flag of the country high, that of the continent too, as she is in Indonesia to contest for the 2014 Miss World title with the over 100 others. Hope she keeps the flag of the Cameroonian culture flying high, and not discard of hers, as was done at home, to the embrace of foreign mores.

GET EDUCATED: EMPOWER SELF WITH THE GREATEST WEAPON

Education is visibly good to mankind. Proof is that our parents now sit and look at us with much pride, especially in Africa, that races afore thought backward, can now match up with the advanced rate.

Education is happiness. Educated girls the world over become great ladies tomorrow, with radiance and joy.

Education is the key to equality of race, sex, ethnic group, religion, socio-economic status, and whatever one can think of.

It has no barriers, and neither presents nor accepts any.

All are equal, and have equal chances of being equal.

With education, mankind can be all that it ever wants to be.

GOD ALMIGHTY has given us wisdom, so let’s seize the opportunity, and do some good for ourselves.

Credit to Malala Yousofzai, one student, on teacher, one book, one pen will save the world. It is mankind’s greatest weapon.

GET EDUCATED: EMPOWER SELF.

BIG BROTHER AFRICA (BBA): catalyst to declining African values

The Big Brother phenomenon, is one to reckon with nowadays, as it is a must watch show, especially among the youths of Cameroon. But because of the spirit of cultivation from the media, the phenomenon tends to take a toll on the already suffering African values, sowing seeds of discrepancy in young minds.

Partying is the order of the day with the Big Brother Phenomenon. True that something good can come out of partying, as it is a form of relaxation, but the clue to relaxation lies in a day well spent. Formerly, one used to learn constructive things from BBA, with regard to one’s love for the motherland, but now, partying is the easiest thing to learn, even without wanting to. Consider just how many youths following the show, can’t afford to miss the Saturday night parties, for anything else. African Big brothers encourage positive African values, and not the western value of routine partying.

Indecent habits that ensure in the enclosed doors are displayed to the public eye. These habits are inculcated in the viewers, and most even think that if a housemate in BBA isn’t flexible in such habits, such a person is boring, and deserves to be evicted. Such are the thoughts that our African  big brother should be discouraging from our minds, and not letting them sink into our conscious and even sub-conscious minds.

Quarrels and gossips are all exemplary, as they are part of the game. It is good to lie, loose bonds with one person, and mend with another all in the name of the game. It is even better to pretend to have a serious emotional relationship with somebody all in the name of the game, and later disclose publicly, that it was “just a game, and I played it well”. Such are the habits copied by the committed viewers and followers of BBA, and these tend to adopt the inclination into their daily lives.

All these might not be the intentions, but because the word of wisdom believes “an idle man is the devil’s workshop”, and because the work in the workshop needs an abode and a host, Africa’s values are seriously being threatened by the BBA phenomenon, which seems just to have started  a journey of no-return.

SENATE PRESIDENT: WHAT FUTURE AS WEST NOW HOLDS POWER STRUCTURE?

Political structure in Cameroon has been relayed to a seed of the West Region of Cameroon, MARCEL NIAT NJIFENJI. His election as president of the Senate in Cameroon, foretells a merger between the country’s economic structure, and now the country’s political structure.

It is stale news that the west region booms economically in the nation, thus being the masters of the econo-structure. Having an upper hand in the senate adds to their portfolio the super power-structure of the nation. Two dynamic powers that would convey an infra- super –power-structure on the west region,  leading to an explosive form of democracy the nation might fail to contain.

Having a Westerner at the helm of the Senate, who in effect is the constitutional successor of the head of state in case of his sudden death or incapacitation, has sparked an onward flow of thoughts, as to the plight of Anglophone Cameroonians. Though with this view, contrary ones exist.

Born on October 26, 1934, Marcel Njifenji has been vice prime minister in charge of water and Energy (1992), and the Mayor of Bangangte, amongst others. His rich entrepreneurial and political portfolio, are surely what have prompted his rise to the historic position of Cameroon’s first ever Senate president.

By a majority vote of 86 out of 100, Marcel Njifenji who hails from Bangangte, in the Nde division, West Region of Cameroon, is married and a father of four.