Prejudice, racism, discrimination  bias are not funny. They are extremely unpleasant for the victims and can by psychologically debilitating. The perpetrator has no concern or thought for his target. He does his deeds without the slightest  of humanity.  Throws it out there and walk away without looking back. I never can get it out of my head , how one human being can treat another in the most deplorable manner purely because of some aspect of their physical being that they have little or no control over. How evil can we be as member of the human race? How callous and unjust we operate? Ignorance and lots of it are some times behind such disgusting behaviour. And honestly you can’t help but laugh when you remove emotion and observe some of stupidity play itself out.

Recently I received a letter sent to my business address, addressed to me as the director of my company.  This was from the agent of a Global Company very much interested in doing business with my company. There was a direct number in the letter for me to call. Now, I am always open shop for good business. So I picked up the phone, called, the right person I needed to speak, he answered the phone and identified himself. I exchanged pleasantries, introduced myself and told him I got his letter, the reason why I am calling. His next question took me by surprise. He asked if I was the tenant for one of the flats that my company owned. I was speechless for what seemed like eternity.  “Why would you ask me such a question?” I asked. Your wrote to my company at my company address, I identified myself, you still had to ask such an ignorant question! I guess he realised his folly so we proceeded with the business discussion and ended the call. However I could not get the question out of my mind, why? I knew why, prejudice was why. He had in his mind what the Director of the Company will sound like and obviously I did not sound like that to him. My voice to him was the voice of ‘the tenant of one of the flats’. Absolutely nothing wrong whatsoever in being a tenant of one of the flats, but that was not the capacity in which I introduced myself.

I am still kicking myself for not being quick wit, and just for the sake of comic relief,  march stupidity for stupidity and ask if he was the window cleaner for the company even when he had introduce himself with his position “Consultant” boldly written on his letter. Again there is absolutely nothing wrong or demeaning about being a window cleaner. But for crying out loud, give honour to whom honour is due.

I  have countless experience of such nonsense. I once ran an ad in my local paper, the ‘we buy any car” kind. My however was ‘we buy any house’. The ad had my mobile number. I got a few calls, but the most memorable was a man that called and kept insisting that he had previously spoken to another english sounding man on my number about selling his property and that was the only person he wanted to speak. All attempt to let him know there was no English sounding man and it was just me and me alone was to no avail. After wasting enough of my precious time I got exhausted with his blinded prejudice and had to end the call.

I was once doing a development and for my sins I was also the project manager, so I had my portcabin office on site and you will always find me in full regalia,  hard hat, ugly steel toe boot and high visibility vest. So this man (men seem to be the most perpetrator) walked into my site as if he owned the ground and insisted he needed to see “the main man”. Again I started the tideous process of explaining there was no main man, it is just me, me, me, me! I felt like screaming. I could see the discomburbulation going on in his head. Oh my! This is so wearing! I need some relief,  so I smiled and then I had a good belly laugh with a couple of Nigerian handclaps to accompany it!!! Maybe like is good afterall. Free comic relief on a very stressful tense site, priceless!

“It wasn’t me!” I protested loudly, to rival the denial by the popular reggae artiste. The only difference is that I was not trying to be deceptive, I truly believed it wasn’t me. Also, it was for positive endeavours, not some unsavoury shenanigans.

But it had my name all over it. “It wasn’t me.” It was on all my social media pages. “It wasn’t me.” It’s my handwriting. “It wasn’t me.” I was in the picture. “It wasn’t me.” That was all I could say. What about the video, with my voice, my movements, my trademark shifting of the glasses from the bridge of my nose? Well, in that case, I reluctantly conceded that it probably was me after all!

But how could it be me? I can’t do that, I don’t know how to do that, I have never been taught that. Maybe someone else, but me? And some of it is good, I mean beautiful, beautiful work! Even if I do say so myself.

But honestly, truth be told, jokes and exaggeration aside, I struggled to believe I did it.  I kept looking and asking, “Did I do that?  Did I?” Yes, I did! or maybe I didn’t, maybe it wasn’t me after all, maybe I  was right, maybe it was divinity working through me.

As we release and apply ourselves, we give divinity, ‘the creative force’, the opportunity to work through us and we become a vessel fit for purpose, able to observe and partake of the extraordinary.

It wasn’t me, it was God.

Ant is king. Yes, king over lion, tiger, elephant and all the other forest mighties. “How so?” you ask. Ants have impeccable people (animal) skills, they are social animals and will take social risks. Ants can walk into a room and get on with anyone.

Ants have no ‘ears’, so they can get on with the job without hearing all the noise, the gossip, the negativity, the backbiting, the ‘you can’t do it’ talk. “What about the positive talk and how do they communicate?” you ask. Ants ‘hear’ by feeling vibrations. Ants can tell if you are good or bad. Ants can feel the energy of other animals. Talk is cheap. Ants do not need to hear the words. Ants operate above the noise.

“But ants are weak, fragile and tiny,” you maintain. What you don’t know is that ants are strong, very strong indeed. They can carry 50 times their weight! Pause. Allow that to sink in. What other animal can carry up to 50 times its weight? How many humans can carry 50 times their weight?

Ants are fighters! They are as bold as they come. When an ant fights, it is usually till death. A solider that is not afraid of death. Ants are smart and very clever. They can outplay, outwit and outlast humans, not to talk about animals. Ants lived alongside dinosaurs and are still around. They evolved some 150 million years ago.

The characteristics of ants are too numerous to mention, but suffice to say, ant is king and deserves to be king. The king, however, is the queen! Once the queen dies, the colony collapses after a few months. All the male ant does is mate with the queen and it dies not too long after. The queen is the king!

I moaned to my sister. “Nothing to wear,” I said. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I don’t have clothes,” I insisted. “Well, you have clothes to wear for the four seasons—winter, autumn, spring and summer. You have work clothes and church clothes. You even have things to wear for special occasions. Moreover, I have never seen you unclothed,” she reminded me. “You don’t understand,” I told her. “No, I don’t,” she was quick to respond with a bemused look on her face.

“Let me explain,” I said. “Please do,” she responded, so I started, “I don’t have loads of them, I don’t have all the latest colours of the season, I don’t have the things I saw on the catwalk, I have worn some of my clothes a few times, and to be honest, I am fed up of some…actually, most of them. I don’t have a walk-in closet where everything is arranged according to colour, size, season and so on with all the matching shoes, bags and accessories in the right place and a 360-degree mirror so I can see myself from every possible angle.” At that point, even I felt I was beginning to lose the plot, so I quickly rounded up.

With a big sigh, my sister asked if I knew anyone that had what I was describing. After scratching my head awhile, I answered, “Yes! Mariah Carey! She has a walk-in closet in her crib. I saw it on the television.”

“If you had so many clothes, where would you wear them to and how would you be able to wear them all?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “But at least, I will know that I have them and I will feel good. I might even be able to post a picture or video of my closet on social media and people will know that I have loads of clothes. In addition, people will see me in different outfits all the time and they will know I am not doing badly after all.” Her final word to me before she walked away was, “Why?”

I was left by myself to figure out my ‘lunacy’. Why? I kept thinking. Why do I need people to think or feel I am doing well? It is not about clothes after all. It is more about my need for external approval and validation that I felt more clothes would give me.

‘Clothes’ represent different things to different people. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t need more clothes, maybe I have enough clothes. I do have clothes after all. What I don’t have is something different, something deeper. I wonder what it is. Self-value? Self-esteem? Self assurance, self worth or just simply contentment?

Who am I? A light that shines bright, brighter than all other lights. A light that blinds those that look directly at it, which is why you don’t know who I am. I am not who you see, I am not what you understand or perceive me to be.

I am elevated, I am higher, higher than you realise. I am divine, I am untouchable, I am awesome, I am amazingly made.

I am perfected. I am designed to be, I am all I need to be. I only need to manifest it.

Tightly packed like a bulb of fresh garlic, you are impressed and ever so slightly intimidated by the assembly-like presentation. Everything is in place, not a strand of hair is out of place. Confidence is oozing and the words proceed like smooth oil. The carriage and comportment are forthright and the energy is assured.

This is how some people present themselves. They are crisp and well-manicured. You cannot but be impressed—awed, if you like. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with a person putting their right foot forward and presenting themselves in the best possible manner.

As an observer of human beings and as a member of the human race, we must however not think of ourselves as any higher than we ought to. Even the very best of men starts to show some cracks with time, be it surface or structural cracks.

In the same way that the tightly packed garlic bulb starts to space out and disintegrate, so does man, given time. Sooner or later it unravels! That is just the way it goes!

When you have had a few more candles on your birthday cake and you have ridden your bike around the block a few more times than you can count, you can be forgiven for wondering what you are still doing in the neighbourhood.

You have been there, done that. You have lived the life, you have seen it all. The neighbourhood is now the same old, same old! The special place is no longer special. The scary woman around the corner is no longer scary. The funny man can no longer make you laugh. The bargain shop is still there, but the bargain now feels cheap and tired, exactly the way you feel at the moment.

You can see the young ones with the sparkle in their eyes. The neighbourhood is cool as far as they are concerned. The cock-eyed girl is the Audrey Hepburn of the block. All the boys line up to befriend her. That used to be you. You were the belle of the ball. You would be lucky to get as much as a glance from anyone now.

You wonder, where is life? You want that sparkle so bad. You want the eye of the young. Not the physical eye, but the excited eye, the uninitiated eye, the eye that sees all things for the first time and is truly awed. Yes, ‘awe’ is the word. You want to be awed, or better still, you need to be awed.

Staying in the neighbourhood is not going to do it unless you suffer amnesia and see everything anew again. Why wish for a debilitating illness? Maybe there is a better way, an exhilarating solution, which is to leave the neighbourhood. Yes, leave the neighbourhood! Also, do not stay too long in any new neighbourhood. Manage your expectations when you visit an old neighbourhood, you will have some nostalgic feelings but not the same excitement.

Keep moving on, keep exploring, keep inviting, keep enquiring, keep involving, keep evolving. Life is in the evolution, life is in the motion, life is in the doing. Death is static. Yes, life is in the motion, that is where life is!

She was so beautiful. Effortlessly beautiful. Stunning. Her eyes sparkled and danced like little stars. Her skin was taut and luminous. Her teeth were sparkly white like pearls. When she smiled, it melted the heart of the hardest of men. Only an idiot would not be besotted by her. She was unaware of her beauty. Incredibly gentle, she was simple, yet graceful at the same time. She had a few trusted friends. Otherwise, she generally minded her business. She was focused on her studies.

She came from a choice pedigree, her lineage was royal. Her Dad was Alpha, the mover and shaker in the town. He combined the intellectual prowess of a quantum physicist with the entrepreneurial flair of Richard Branson. He was smart, a very handsome man. He was good and he knew it. Her mum was beautiful, a head-turner well into her twilight years. She was tall and fair. A hard worker with such an impeccable work ethic. They don’t make them like that anymore! Back to her, she was very well travelled. She had been to loads of places within and outside the country. She was named after the queen of the country where she was born.

Now, he—yes, he. He was tall and dark, breathtakingly handsome. He was athletic, the girls loved him. He had the gift of the gab, one of the most articulate young men of his time. He was eloquent, he could move a room. His oratory gift was not out of place with the likes of Luther King Jr., he was that good. Everyone, I mean everyone, wanted to be his friend. The soul of the party, his circle was wide, his reach far.

He was not wealthy and he did not come from a wealthy family. His parents were hard workers but not rich. His dad was the epitome of solidity and stability. His mum was the gentlest soul that ever treaded the face of the earth. He had not travelled much. Actually, he hadn’t been anywhere. He had also faced some setbacks in his life.

He saw her, and it was love at first sight. He was besotted by her beauty, he warmed to her gentleness. He befriended her and couldn’t believe the connection, the chemistry between them. Her playfulness was a surprise to him. They ran around in the rain like two little children.

He wanted to tell her how he felt, but couldn’t get the words out. He considered her out of his league. Where would he start from and what would she say? Why would she be interested in him anyway? He didn’t have much, he thought. He was disturbed and suffered countless sleepless nights.

She, on the other hand, could not believe that he was her friend. She felt special that such a popular person would make time for her. She liked him, her mind wandered to the possibility of a relationship with him, but she quickly dismissed the thought. He was too extroverted, too loud. It wouldn’t work, they would grate each other, she presumed. She still wondered what it would be like to be his girl. She concluded that it was not possible. She was too quiet and he was outside her league.

He braced up, stood as a man, approached her in all his manliness and vulnerability at the same time, and poured out his heart. She was shocked, stunned. She was beside herself with joy. She couldn’t believe he loved her. She felt chosen. She said yes! Because he dared, they had a beautiful relationship, got married, had ten children and lived happily ever after.

Like an aspiring politician, brandishing my purple silicone bracelet located on my left wrist, I was so determined to make it work that time around. Yes, I again (again, as I had tried in the past without much success) committed to Will Bowen’s 21-day no complaints challenge.

It’s easy! Is it really? You wear a purple bracelet on your wrist, and for 21 days, you refrain from complaining, criticising or gossiping. If you find yourself doing any complaining, you simply switch the band to the other wrist and start the 21 days again. Hopefully, at the end of 21 days without complaining, you would have broken the habit and become a better person for it. Your relationships would benefit as well. It’s all good!

I wouldn’t describe myself as a complainer, and I doubt anyone that knows me would. I do have my odd moments of whinging and whining, but honestly do not feel it is anything to write home about. Maybe I am a ‘social complainer’, you know, the type that feels she must join in the group moan doing the rounds. Why be a party pooper? Or better still, why portray myself as holier than thou? So, for the sake of social integration and acceptance, I probably join in. Or could I be an ‘accidental complainer’? You know, the odd complaint here and there that comes out of the mouth before I can take it back.

Well, what I found out was more ‘worrisome’. My partner in crime (my friend, Flora) called. We started our conversation, but there was not much to say after the usual pleasantries. I deliberately decided to test the water with a tiny bit of complaining, and the conversation picked up speed. I went full force on the complaining and we were in our element, urging each other on, and at the same time, trying to outdo one another. We were at it for 1 hour 47 minutes! We had no chance of lasting up to 10 minutes when we started the conversation without the complaining.

At the end of the conversation, I dutifully switched my bracelet to the right wrist. The worrisome part was not that I complained but rather that I felt no remorse. I actually felt fulfilled and satisfied, like an addict getting a much-needed fix and justifying the need for it.

Why do I have to complain and why do I enjoy doing it? It seems I am an intentional, deliberate complainer. Why the compulsion to complain? I guess I wanted the fellowship, the bonding, the attention, the comradeship. I wanted to connect with my friend and our main bond was in complaining.

I didn’t want to complain, but I wanted to bond and knew no other way. To break the complaining habit, I had to break the bond in the same way a silicone bracelet breaks and snaps on the skin. It is painful, it hurts! I guess pain is the way to freedom, and with time, I will forge relationships based on a more positive bond.

It’s not free, it never was and it never will be. You didn’t know the price, or you thought there was none, or perhaps you never thought in the first place.
You alienated me, you discounted me, you dismissed me. Was it deliberate or you just didn’t see me?

Now you want me to clap, to applaud, to hooo and haaa. I can’t do that, as that would be false. I can’t tell if it is beautiful as the process has been ugly.
Maybe it is aesthetically attractive, but it does not lift my spirit. It brings no light to my soul.

“Am I jealous?” I ask. No, I feel nothing. I feel flat. Should I say ‘well done’? I want to, but the words are stuck in my throat like a car stuck at the toll gate. The toll was never paid, the car can’t proceed and the words are not coming out.
My applause cost!