A PURPOSE FULFILLED - LESSONS FROM NELSON MANDELA.

All day, I've felt a sense of profound loss.

I'd awoken to the news of the death of Nelson Mandela. I'd reached for my phone as I'm wont  to do as soon as I open my eyes in the mornings. As the news and eulogies following his passing flooded my timeline on Twitter, I shut my eyes again in disbelief and tried to digest the news. A short while later, I heard my Dad bellow from the living room, 'Mandela is dead!' with a voice filled with disbelief, shock and pain. 

All day, the media - television, radio and social media poured accolades. World leaders, from Barak Obama to Ban Ki Moon to Sepp Blater paid respect and tribute on this political icon and legend who was the salt of Africa. He had sacrificed and dedicated his life to peace, justice, equality and reconciliation. Not just among his people but to all peoples of the World.

The truth is that most of us never knew the man. My earliest memories of him were in songs by Yvonne Chaka Chaka, Brenda Fasie, Envangelist Sunny Okosun, Ras Kimono and the likes, decrying Apartheid and demanding his release. While we may not have known him personally, it does not make his passing any less hurtful, nor the sense of loss any less poignant. All over the social media - Facebook, Twitter, words like,

'Rest in Peace Madiba'

'Papa Africa Rests'

'You will never be forgotten Nelson Mandela.'

'The soul of Africa has departed...'

Even as most of the World mourn the passing of this titan whom most have described as a     world hero, critics and cynics have had their own share of comments - forefront among them being Nigerian commentators. Some were of the view that Nigerians had quickly fallen into  the tradition of crying more than the bereaved. Some cite the death of Prof Chinua Achebe, whom they feel was not adequately mourned by South Africa and South Africans, even though it is unfair to compare the two men. Some point to the political and diplomatic friction that has existed between Nigerians and South Africans in recent years. Others deride the President, Jonathan Ebele Good-luck as being too much in a haste in  declaring a 3 day national mourning.

To some extent, I agree with the cynics and critics. Do I, as a Nigerian and and an African feel this loss so deeply because of the universal outpouring of grief? Or do I feel a sense of loss because of a deep guilt that I as a Nigerian, an African and a citizen of the World have not done what I ought to?

The real questions that Madiba's passing forces me to ask myself and indeed we all should ask are, Would I willingly fight against instituted corruption in Nigeria? Would I willingly shed off the shackles of religion and ethnicity to fight for a Nigeria I believed in? Would I willingly champion the cause of the poor and down-trodden in my nation? Would I willingly give a voice to the millions of marginalised Nigerians? Would I willingly do this in the face of persecution, untold hardship, incaceration and - even death? Could I fight based on my personal convictions on human rights and justice as Nelson Mandela fought?

A lover of peace... Did you know he offered himself as a human shield to the Iraqis in a bid to prevent the US 2003 action against Iraq? That type of self sacrifice moves me, it boggles my mind and demands that I be a better Nigerian, a less self-serving and more selfless human being. A man never ernamoured of power or wealth, he gave out the numerous gifts that came to him from admirers around the world and single-handedly supported 50 or so charities.

He transcended boundaries, race, creed, religion, steel bars and hatred and showed us all how much a single human being could accomplish. One man's legacy bestowed upon his nation the goodwill of all nations. How profound! In the face of the tremendous fight for the principles and values he believed in, he retained an aura of peace and was never without his broad smile for which he was famously known. How remarkable!

Rather than castigate/ criticise our government/ leaders and make comparisms, Nelson Mandela's passing must cause us - each and everyone to look inwards as individuals and as human beings. It must cause us to question our moral fiber/ character and push us to look for once, beyond ourselves to something larger, more lasting and meaningful.

Only yesterday, I came across a little note on instagram. The words haunted me all day and caused some deep soul searching. It said,

"We all Die

The Goal is not to live forever

The Goal is to creates something that will."

Madiba created a legacy that will endure and in his doing so, showed the path each citizen of the world must strive to follow. He has certainly showed me...

Rest in Peace Great One. Rest in Peace Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela.

IZON FIE : SPEAK IZON (THE EPIPHANY)

'If you want to colonise a man for life, teach him your language.'
                                                                                                     - Chinese Proverb.


About two weekends ago, I had an epiphany.

I had this eye-opener while at the launch of an Ijaw book and audio book cd authored by Mr Ogonobenitari Alfred Egberipou who happens to be a retired Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Finance and Economic Planning of old Rivers State, a former broadcaster in Izon language for Nigeria Broadcasting Corporation, Lagos. It was published by Mrs Oyintarela Ebiere Umeri (nee Diffa). Of course the invitation came from Senator Emmanuel Diffa, the publisher's father and it had my curiosity piqued.

On arrival at the venue, I was stunned to discover that members of the Ijaw community had come out en masse to support this laudible project which had taken all of six years to achieve.  The publisher in making her welcoming speech painted a picture that I personally identify with; as well as a lot of members of my generation. Growing up in a home where her mother was a foreigner and father more eloquent in Yoruba than his indigenous language, she was clueless as to how to go about understanding her language, never mind speaking it. Years of sojourn in the United Kingdom did not make that enterprise any easier. In times where it is more fashionable and perhaps more commercially profitable to speak French, German or even Chinese, it's easy to lose sight of the rich heritage to be found in the different Nigerian languages.

In 2006, she commissioned the author Mr Ogonobenitari Alfred Egberipou to write Izon Fie, due to her personal desire to learn to speak, write and read her mother-tongue and to enable all other interested people to the same. She ensured that the commissioned manuscript is presented to readers in a book that is of international quality and standard. She also introduced the production of the first self-study Audio book CD of its kind in the Izon language.

Her 'testimony' and humble effort to ensure that her language remained relevant opened the floor for a lot of well-read and enlightened men and women to come out and air their different experiences with  all concluding that rather than being viewed as a defeciency, the ability to speak one's indigenous language sort of completes you, identifying you as a proud Nigerian, a proud African.

I sat back there, sorrounded by these men and women who made known their agreement, dismay and support in Ijaw and I had an epiphany!

Now, let me clarify, I'm not Ijaw. I'm Igbo. I hail from a region where the people were renown to be fierce warriors. These days, we do not war but our fearlessness has had us making our mark in every industry in the country from public service to the academia to trade. And our language? Oh! Our language must be the language of the gods. It's rythmic nuances, the varied twist to the vowels, the incredible combination of words that is gauranteed to hold every listener spellbound and has carved a niche for us in the Igbo Kingdom. Just beautiful... 

I love my language. I'm filled with pride by it. But... I cannot speak it to save my life! I end up not only murdering and mutilating the language but I have anyone else listening cringing and wincing in pain. Patethic! Disgraceful!

How can I claim to be a properly enlightened, proud and fierce Ohafia queen if I cannot speak my language? What do the certificates and 'achievements' matter if I cannot  converse with a grandmother, or shy away from that uncle from the village because he would be hard pressed to understand the unintelligible gibberish which proceeds from my mouth  when he comes to visit? How about the sheer joy of 'yarning' with your friends or siblings in your mother tongue? Or making clear and intelligent contributions at the Youth Association? Geez! I'm a long way off on that one.

I've noticed that this malady is one that plagues young people indigenous to the South-East. This 'phobia' when it comes to our language. It seems so 'uncool'. You could be accused of being 'razz' or too local. However, our brothers and sisters from the South and North, just as accomplished as we are, take so much pride in their language. It's so common to find in households from these parts that, the first language to be spoken is either Yoruba or Hausa before English. The reverse is the case in most Igbo homes.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in the market shopping when I came across this little girl who couldn't have been more than four or five years old. She was conversing with her grandmother in the most fluent and eloquent Yoruba. I was spellbound by that little girl. Infact, she challenged me to work on my Igbo even before Izon Fie opened my eyes to the fact that I was aiding in making my mother tongue obsolete.

Yes, that's right. Obsolete! If nothing else I've written makes any sense, how about this? According to research, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) on Language Pluralism and Multi-Language Education predicted that the Igbo language and by implication, culture, may be headed for extinction, 'subsumed by other stronger Nigerian languages' if nothing is done by its speakers to ensure that it not only taught in schools, colleges and universities but also used as the language of official communication within the five Igbo speaking states - Abia, Anambra, Ebonyi, Enugu and Imo.

Frightening isn't it? The thought of your identity disappearing from the surface of the earth. The thought of assuming the identity of another. It would serve us right I think since we have this morbid fascination for other cultures; which is not wrong in itself, but not to the detriment of ours. The thought is more than a little sobering for me. I've also read up some rubbish under the guise of opinions and 'clarion calls' which typical to our nature calls upon Government, our leaders, even God to save our language from extinction! Our typical way of reasoning from our bottoms! When it's really quite simple. Charity begins at home.

For my part, I have embraced the stark truth, which is however well I may speak the language, I'm not English or American or French or German or Chinese. I'm Igbo, a proud heritage I must not be ashamed of. And so I've begun the mission of falling in-love all over again with my language and culture and doing my bit against extinction. Eloquent spoken Ohafia in a year? Do-able? Completely!

   
Light & Love

      xx

   Zenia.

NOLLYWOOD LIVES.

I'm feeling a lot more reflective and less fashionable these days, so I'll have to ask you to bear with my thoughts, as random as they might be.
For my international readers, Nollywood is  Nigeria's extremely vibrant movie industry. It's been rated the 3rd best in the world after Hollywood  and Bollywood. It's completely non-government funded and I like to say that if the industry workers have any sense, it's best they keep it that way. Has anyone noticed that these two areas where the government has no input - our music and movies - is beyond thriving and a veritable goldmine?

My earliest memories of movies before Nollywood became Nollywood include, 'Living in Bondage', (1992) featuring Kenneth Okonkwo, Rita Nzelu, Kanayo .O. Kanayo and Francis Agu. There was also 'Glamour Girls' , (1994) whose cast included Liz Benson, Eucharia Anunobi, Dolly Unachukwu. Other favourites include Violated, Nneka, the Pretty Serpent, Domitila.

Nollywood has been known to churn out some exceptionally good movies - and some with some really questionable plots. Questionable to me, that is. Thanks to the magnanimity of Multichoice, I really do not have a choice these days with African Magic Plus, African Magic Yoruba, African Magic Hausa and all the other 'Afmags' I can't be bothered with. Whatwith half of my household addicted to one or the other, I feel odd that I don't get the craze.

The other day, one of my brothers remarked 'You never can tell what you learn from these movies.' I rolled my eyes. What do I learn from Nkem Owoh's acting? Fine, an adage or two but his incessant bickerings and yammerings give me a headache. Oh Lord! And then there's Patience Ozokwor or the other lady that confessed to a demonic possession. Geez! Je réserve mon commentaire. Some I genuinely like - Ini Edo, Stella Damascus and Mercy Johnson.

I sat thinking this morning, despite the headspinning and fantastical plots of Nollywood movies, the reality is that we do live Nollywood lives. The stories that Nigerian scriptwriters try to convey which hold us spellbound for hours touch us one way or the other no matter how educated, enlightened or in my case, scornful we are.
There's the story of the childless couple, or the orphaned girl who has to keep a string of sugar daddies to put herself through school, the terrible stepmother, the mother-in-law from hell, the family who hates a son's girlfriend or wife, the ridiculous long distance relationship that eventually comes to nought, the backstabbing friend who sleeps with her best friend's boyfriend, the woman who deals with an abusive husband or boyfriend, the son that terrorises his parents, the dirt poor family whose redemption comes when the son of the elite fall in-love with their daughter, the 'óga' that impregnates the housemaid... Nollywood Lives.

Now check out this Nollywood story... You're a poor orphaned girl who gets exployment as a sales girl for an upcoming businessman. He falls head in-love with you when he sees how industrious and accountable you are. You love him as well. His family on the other hand are not having it! They give you hell! Infact, they give you a public beating or two! Their days are spent cooking up how to humiliate and assault you. Other moments cooking up plots gauranteed to alienate you from son/ brother. This perverse hatred for you is not because you're a shameless trollop, never-do-well gold-digger or an irresponsible baby(ies) mama. Nope! The World War Three that this family has decided to wage against you is due to a vow by the family's late patriach; that no child of his will have anything to do with people from a particular region, because he had a tenant from that region who owed him rent for years! Ookay! Someone say R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S.

Seriously! I'm beginning to scoff less at Ngerian movies, we indeed do live Nollywood lives!

I LOVE LOVE: TWO STRANGERS AT THE HARLEQUIN.

I was sitting on a bench outside the Harlequin at Watford trying to recover from my bout of marathon shopping when the couple caught my eye. Fascinated I watched, lowering the large cup of coke in my hands.

A few meters away from me, an old woman in a pretty purple coat was taking one tentative step after the other with the aid of a metal walker. She must have been over 80 years old. She was chatting animatedly with a man by her side. Despite the slight hunch at his back, he was tall, over 6feet. He must have been huge when he was a lot younger, I thought. He walked patiently by her side holding her purse and a shopping bag.

At first, I thought they were mother and elderly son. I remember thinking it was so sweet of a son to take his mother out for a bit of air and Saturday shopping. But as they paused infront of a shop a little distance from me, I saw I was wrong. The tall man's face was just as lined and weathered as the lady's, his hair more of a platinum gray than blonde. He would be the same age as the lady, maybe a little older. He was her husband! And they were adorable together.

Now their heads were bent together infront of the window as they admired a pretty piece of trinket. And then while the little lady continued to chatter excitedly, her veined fingers tracing the bauble through the glass, her husband turned his eyes away from the bauble and watched her. His eyes held such tenderness, his mouth curved in an indulgent smile. 

My hardened, cynical heart swelled and melted over.

His eyes traced her wispy gray hair moving slightly in the frigid English breeze, then caressed her animated face. I wondered what he was thinking as his gaze traced the features of a woman he could have been with for at least 60 years. What did he see that made his gaze so tender? What memory curved his mouth at his wife's eyes flashing excitedly up at him? It was so moving. So heart-wrenching to see... After decades of loving, raising children, facing challenges, sickness, health, growing old and wrinkled together, the man was still in-love with his wife and she clearly adored him right back.

By this time I was enthralled! I watched the pair unashamedly, my coke forgotten on the bench beside me, my shopping bags at my feet. The wife must have made some request  because her husband nodded and she flashed him a smile as he acceded. With a hand still holding the walker, she raised the free one to his weathered cheek but the tall man was already ducking his long frame so that she could reach him. As she murmured softly to him, a large hand came up to cover hers for a brief caress, then he took her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss in her open palm. Almost immediately, he leaned in for a kiss and his love's head was upturned to meet it. It was brief but passionate. It's one of the most touching things I've ever witnessed.

Growing up, I never saw my parents kiss. Truth be told, I never witnessed any display of affection. It was so sterile that I never even saw a hug! And here were these two strangers, old and wizened, who could still express their love with a touch... a kiss, after no less than half a century together. A little band wrapped itself around my heart and tightened. It hurt!  Tears sprang to my eyes unsolicited. They fell unchecked. A painful knot formed in my throat and I kept trying to swallow it, but it wouldn't budge. It felt like two strong fingers had wedged themselves on my trachea.

The man by this time had the door to the little shop open for his wife who manoeuvred her walker nimbly through the doorway. As she came up to him, she smiled her thanks. He smiled back. The door to the little shop swung shut with a jingle of bells and the couple were lost from my view. I sat there feeling oddly bereft. The tears still fell, but I'd become aware of them and brushed them away with my fingers. I'd witnessed something rare and profound... something to aspire to... LOVE.

It's been several weeks since I saw the couple in England. I think about them often. And when I do I smile. Before y'all tease and call me a hopeless romantic, may I remind you that I've suffered from severe gamophobia since my early twenties. But those two strangers...

In retrospect, I think that that unbearable pain around my chest that cold afternoon was my cast iron heart dissolving into a pile of flowers, butterflies and kisses because I so want what those two have... I want to still look at my husband with so much passion when I'm 80! I want to kiss him shamelessly when I'm old and wrinkled and not care who looks! I want us to hold hands and go for long strolls even after decades together! I want to adore my husband so much that it's obvious that after Jehovah, he's right up that pedestal. 

I honestly want all of that and I'm so ready...

Love & Blessings,

          xxx

       Isi-Aki.

Thank GOD that this writer's block has decided to lose it's hold on me.

DO IT LIKE A DUDE - ANDROGYNOUS STYLE.

I'd rather be handsome for an hour than pretty for a week. - Tilda Swinton.

I'm currently trying my hand at the androgynous fashion. 

The term androgyny refers to the removal of either male or female attributes to create a person devoid of sexual characteristics. Women who embrace androgyny are brash and very bold. She's a rebel who rejects everything that society says she should be and the lessons passed on from generations of women before her.  An independent individual, she refuses to endure the male dominated society. She blurs the line between masculinity and femininity as she flaunts her sexuality.

The concept of 'boy style' embraced by celebrities such as Janelle Monae, Emma Watson, Rihanna is one that is widely embraced today with menswear turned womenswear such as tuxedos, blazers and oxfords becoming commonplace.

Androgyny is truly eclectic and intriguing.

OUTFIT FORMAL

Break out the two piece suit in black or white for that formal occasion. Either black or white can be flattering.The colour black is a huge confidence booster for women. A black or white suit in a roomful of evening dresses is sure to make you stand out.

Fierce!

OUTFIT CASUAL

To achieve the androgynous look, go for clothes which are unisex. Shirts must not be form fitting, but well fitted. High waisted jeans or harem or peg pants and a white tee-shirt combined with minimal accessories such as a bold wristwatch work for the casual look.

Paul Smith's casual androgyny.

Minimalist styling.

FOOTWEAR

Brogues, oxfords, converse and wingtip shoes are an easy way to achieve the androgynous look. I have a particular liking for spikes or creepers which are guaranteed to add the androgynous edge to any outfit.

A definite attention grabber.

Russel & Bromley

ACCESSORIES

Minimal jewellery, utilitarian totes in worn leather, chunky watches, belts or suspenders, hats, ties,  complement the  androgynous look.

STYLING

Hair may be cut in a bob, a mullet or pixie cut. Long hair may be pulled back in a slick ponytail or tucked under a hat. A red lippie and blush do not work with this look. A foundation,  matte powder and nude lip pulls the whole look together. 

Simple classic pieces. I <3 the blazer.

Whimsical feminised masculinity.

Androgyny Perfection.

Vogue Russia.

KabiraWilliams on Times fashion series on androgyny.

Rasa Zukauskaite merging androgynous style with a ladylike twist.

With a bucket loads of confidence and constant practice, you should be working this look in no time. I definitely will.

Peace and Light,

xx

Isi-aki.

INSPIRATION BOARD

Printspiration!

Ingenious!

I need this skirt in my life!

In the shops now H&M Imitation leather skirt.

Mara and Mine Skeleton slippers.

Artistic mani inspired by 10 Blank Canvases.

Chanel clutch from Spring 2013

Fantastic perspex purse. I love the golden spider clasp.

ASOS beaded shift at the Spring Preview. Oxygen! <3

Statement Walter Steiger heelz.

Blooming baguette at Fendi PreFall 2013 via @mduenasjacobs instagram

Incredible brocade skirt on style blogger Chic Muse

LOC ENVY

Following my last post, I put my hair up in cornrows. One word -Torture!

Suffice to say that I-WILL-NOT-BE-DOING-THAT-AGAIN! One sleepless night and several hours of enduring a severe migraine, I took them out the very next day. I just could not endure the thought of one more sleepless night, going through that amount of self-imposed pain! Right now my scalp feels so tender that I still experience painful twinges from time to time. Absolutely awful! 

So, I've started thinking of going back to the locs route. Protective styling and hair retention rolled in one.  Viola!

These beauties are just giving me oxygen, right now. 

 

So tempted. I just might...

Light and Love,

xx

Isi-aki.