A Visit to the Motherless Babies Home.

I went to visit babies at the Motherless babies home a few days back. It was my first. I saw babies of 18 months and below. I must confess that I was dreading visiting them. Why, you may ask. I didn’t know how to act: if I was to have the pity face or just act like life is beautiful. I chose to be myself and I enjoyed it. I also learnt that there was a difference between Motherless Babies Home and the Orphanage Home, don’t judge me. The former have fathers who lost their mothers usually due to childbirth while the others have no parent.

I carried one of the kids and while I did that, my sister asked the caretaker if she was permitted to do the same and she said no. I quickly dropped the little girl. The caretaker didn’t give a reason.

When we left the Home, my sister and I came to the conclusion that the children must really feel that absence of love a lot. During this season people come into their home and show them love. People give all so much but after the season life goes on. We get busy with work and forget how much these kids need love. So I guess the caretaker’s point was that they(kids) should get used to not being carried and showered with gifts and affection. Fickle minds that we have.

On my way out I noticed that one of the caretakers changing a baby who had pooed. I also noticed the baby napkin was in tatters. I felt for them. I asked my sister and brother in-law why they couldn’t provide better napkins for these children since people bring money among other things. Their opinion was that just the same way these children get love seasonally, the gifts are also given seasonally. Since they can’t maintain diapers while start.

It broke my heart.

Dear readers, please if you can help in donating things as little as diapers or you know someone that’s wealthy or not but willing to be of assistance, please have conversation with them. You can help these children. My thoughts are that if you or a couple of your friends can make a consistent supply of diapers to these homes – motherless or orphanage, you’ll be contributing immensely to the lives of these children. Please don’t wait until it’s Christmas or a holiday to visit them. You can do it at any time. Let them feel and know what love is and about.

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The better half

I recently just understood the meaning of the term “better half”. I wish you dear readers would share your understanding with me.

Song: Taio Cruz’s Telling The World.

The better half.

It isn’t just anybody.

It’s that one you’ve chosen to love;

The better part of your worst days;

The one you come back to even after the shenanigans and/or good of the day;

He/she is more than just the icing on the cake.

He/she is that exceptional one.

Your exceptional.

 

So you’re you but your other half makes you a better you.

You know the part where someone says ‘marry someone who would challenge you and who would make you a better you’?

That’s the other side of you;

The other side of the same coin.

You both need each other

And I believe God makes this happen,

At least for the long term.

 

 

 

 

 

 

****I’ve been writing so many posts with love themes and it’s beginning to irk me but for some unfathomable reason I can’t help it. You’ll think the Y infestations ameliorates everything. It doesn’t. Or maybe I’m yet to see it. I have my issues but I’ll say someone (people) needed to read this at the particular time – their eyes/minds needed these words.****

NLS so far

It’s been sooooooooooo long. Let’s leave it at that. Please.

You should download Chris Medina’s What Are Words while reading this. Though I’m not sure it relates. It’s got good lyrics though.

From lectures that span from 9am to 4pm to infestations of the Y chromosome. I’ll start with school. My day starts with lecture, lunch, siesta, group meetings and fiddling with my phone and/or chatting with my roommates/friends and studying (if the feeling is there) and finally sleeping (or I wake up later in the night to study).

I’ve made many acquaintances here and very few friends. Although inconclusive, I must say that I have laughed so much here than I have done in any other place. Maybe even at home. I don’t remember anyone ever describing me as someone who loves to laugh a lot but I’m described that way here. A friend told me that Lagos maybe just my place. It’s too soon to conclude. I can only say that I don’t hate here anymore.

The major reason why I have the urge to study consistently is that the lecturers use the register to call students by names to answer questions they ask. Also tasks are given to each group and presented by any student(s) they choose to call from said register. No one wants to look stupid because students show no mercy when one depicts their inability to answer a question especially one that’s easy.

My family complains of my lack of eating on a regular but my body has adjusted to eating once a day. I eat cereal in the morning (God bless the Kellogg’s family). My lunch usually consists of rice, dodo, and beef/egg or moi-moi (I never used to eat this so often until Lagos), dodo and stew and beef. Fruits work for me at night but I can be too lazy to walk down to buy and cookies play the role.

I’ve recently been thinking that I needn’t have to eat three square meal, since I don’t really do any form of exercise besides walking to class. It’s a short work since there’s a nexus between the academic area and campus. I’m breaking the habit next year. Next year’s gonna need more energy hence more food.

I think I’m either lacking vitamin A or my eyes just decided to weird out on me the last 48hours. I can see objects or words close to me but anything far is just blurred. My group sits in front in class and I found it difficult to view words from the projector. I guess not eating anything that has palm oil, vegetables and carrots since I came here is taking its toll on me. So I started with efo riroI’ve always heard about it and Lagos made us acquaintances, maybe soon-to-be friends. 😉

I just had to type it out: I miss cooking.

We aren’t allowed to cook. Everything is bought here except your bed and mattress. I once used to think that I liked cooking and eating until I came here. I understand now that I love to cook, serve a plate for myself and give the rest away.

About the Y chromosomes: well, they’ve been here and there. I think I’ve had my fair share of infestations. My roommates say that my nectar (clean your snotty minds, you know what I mean> If you don’t then I’m referring to my name Lily) must be the sweetest that the bees (guys) can’t get enough. There was this time that I took a 15minute walk to church as early as 6am and got slews of cars stopping to pick me or asking for my number or blackberry pin. The same thing happened while walking back. I was self conscious they rest if that day -____-. I think it’s safe to say that I’m handling the attention nicely. I almost forgot the complementary cards. Maybe I’ll make a collage of them.

***I miss blogging and reading blogs as soon as I get notifications. I miss the ability to lie on my bed and have absolutely nothing to do or reason to think besides that I’m lying on a bed. I miss reading my timeline on twitter and maybe my offhanded tweets. I miss cooking. I miss my unabashed affair with books (novels).

I don’t know if I can trade all these for the gift of legs that make me walk at length and see slices of art in form of buildings and places and people and fashion. Or my temporary independence. ***