Posted on by thelastbornsjournal

Memoirs from Toronto (2)

Our first task that Sunday morning was getting IdaraAbasi to welcome Pastor Nathaniel Bassey with flowers, upon his arrival as one of the guest ministers at The Outpouring, Canada. She delivered excitedly and excellently on the job; till date, she has not quite gotten over the experience. She keeps asking, “Mum, did I really give flowers to the real Nathaniel Bassey in real life?” When I respond in the affirmative, she goes like, “Wow!”, and I get it. She finds it hard to believe that a person that hitherto existed only on her TV screen was now in fact a reality that she had met, hugged and exchanged light banter with. These little things here and there are the building blocks that create unforgettable memories and reference points for her as a growing child.

The Outpouring Canada meeting itself happened in the evening and it was such a joy to be in a beautiful atmosphere of worship; attending with my dear sister and friend, Anwuli, further heightened my entire experience. Thinking about it now, I don’t know how I would have coped without her, considering the dimensions of ‘premium drama’ that the children served me that evening. She brought the calm and the charm required to hold IdaraAbasi and ‘Keima down when they started to make a fuss, a few minutes after we settled into our seats. They scrambled for cookies, squabbled over who should sit next to mummy and squealed loudly for no real reason at all. In the midst of everything else going on in the room, I was forced to be a mum and attend to them patiently. Somewhere along the line, they both fell asleep and this was the ‘visa’ I needed to fully press into the meeting in the way my Spirit yearned.

Beyond the actual event that we travelled for, there was a  need to engrave the trip and reinforce the experience in the children’s minds with activities that they would love, enjoy and never forget. To this end, Monday was designated ‘fun-day’. Since we had one more day to play around before travelling back home, I decided to take the children and my niece, Boluwatife, to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) in Toronto. We woke up bright and early, had breakfast and headed out to the train station; we met up with Ibiwunmi and her family at the Union station and caught the connecting train to the Exhibition GO Station.

As we arrived at the venue and began to take everything in, we knew we had made a brilliant decision. So many games, rides and activities, all up in bright and breathtakingly beautiful colours and it was a chore to decide where to start from. First things first, we had to find the ticket booth so we could buy our tickets and get in the groove immediately; I had already spotted a ride that seemed like the perfect way to start our adventure laden day.

Tickets in hand, we headed out as a group to get on our first ride for the day, the Sky Ride. If I were told to describe the ride, I would call it a safe, toned-down version of a zipline. The concept of the ride was basically rows of chairs suspended midair on a taut rope that would glide slowly across a predefined circumference of an oval stretch and give a decent aerial view of the entire fair and its immediate environs. “A smooth, and chilled type of ride”, I thought, until I got on it with my 3-year old son, ‘Keima.

As I write this, I still don’t know what disarmed my sensitivities so much that I thought it a good idea to go on this particular ride, with young children. While I got on the ride with ‘Keima, Idara went on the ride with my 17 yr old niece, Boluwatife.  The first thing I noticed as we got on board was that beyond the safety lap bars, there were no seatbelts in place. Before I got a chance to complain to the attendant or even jump off, the ride had lifted off the ground and ‘Keima was there, dangling loosely in his seat. Prayers went up immediately in my heart as I got the sense that I had entered ‘one chance’.

In fairness to him, he didn’t panic; he actually loved the ride. He was thrilled to be up in the air, “far above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky” perhaps. He began to laugh and point things out excitedly, I was glad and quite relieved as I engaged with him. However, in a short while, his excitement became unguided and began to tip over. His gesticulations and movements became more spirited as he tried to lean over to see more and reach for things that were totally out of reach. I thought it was all fun and games initially and I tried to talk him out of it, but he was not having it; he wanted to explore the world as he deemed best. I explained carefully and gently to him why he needed to be calm, but the more I spoke to him and pleaded with him to stay safe for us, the more agitated he got. 

Panic set in at my end as he pushed and threw his hands and feet up in the air. He wanted to break free from me and breaking free would mean falling from a height of ‘God knows how many feet’ to hard, concrete ground. I imagined the worst at that point and my heart screamed “God forbid!” The more I begged him to calm down, the more bent he seemed on proving to me through his actions that foolishness is bound in the heart of a child. At this point, I began to scream for help….. I started by shouting out to my friend who was in the seat ahead of us. I said, “Ibiwunmi, ‘Keima is trying to jump out.” She couldn’t hear me the first time, but she certainly heard the panic in  my voice. When she eventually figured out what I said, she pleaded with me to do my absolute best to keep him calm. 

I moved from screaming to Ibiwunmi to just being that helpless mother who would stop at nothing to save her child. I started shouting wildly to any and everyone that could hear me “HELP! PLEASE HELP! STOP THE RIDE! MY SON IS TRYING TO JUMP OUT! HEEEEELLLLLLPPP!”. Nobody heard me, and even if they did, they didn’t act like they did. I was in distress and everything was still going on normally. People were laughing all around me, engrossed in their own world; selfies were being taken, reels were being created and memories were still being documented. I was all alone in my pain, trying to manage a toddler’s full blown tantrum, mid-air, while watching others eat ice-cream, have fun and enjoy summer vibes.

I was genuinely confused and I thought all kinds of thoughts. I knew that if Keima jumped out, I instinctively would too. Would we survive it? I wondered to myself if that is how people’s lives end on short notice. I wondered about my daughter, who was sitting just behind us, and my husband whom we left back in the hotel room. How would the story be told? How would the news be broken? Why would tragedy be our reward for travelling all the way to attend a revival meeting? The moment I thought about The Outpouring Canada, my perspective shifted and I began to switch gears internally.

I remembered a testimony shared at The Outpouring the previous day about a young boy that had fallen off a storey building a while back and was supernaturally restored. As I recollected the details, I told God that I didn’t come all the way to Toronto to replicate that experience with ‘Keima and so I wasn’t interested in him falling or jumping out of the ride in the first place. I knew at this point that if God did not step in and help, we were gone….like gone. This was  when I consciously invited God into the experience with me through prayer. 

As I prayed, the panic subsided a bit and I was able to think clearly and take action. I don’t know how I comported myself well enough to move Keima successfully from my left hand side where he was initially seated to my right hand side, then I propped his side with my backpack which I had on the seat.  After that, I pressed my full weight on him against the corner of the ride to hem him in as I continued to pray. Initially, he tried hard to kick and break free from the discomfort of the confinement, then after a while, he relaxed and a sort of calm came upon him. A child that had been throwing tantrums suddenly became cooperative, and I just continued praying. 

Eventually, the ride ended, and we got off…..ALIVE! As far as I am concerned, that ride must have lasted a little over 10,000 minutes. As soon as we alighted, I burst into uncontrollable tears; of gratitude, joy and relief, of thanksgiving for deliverance from death and calamity, of a fresh appreciation for the Omnipresent God and so many other things that words cannot describe. I also woke up to a fresh realisation of the depths of love that a mother has for her child which is often concealed in the nuances of daily living and revealed in distinct experiences that show our hearts to us. 

Naturally, this ride altered the entire course of the outing as I was too shaken to get on any other ride or fun activity that day. I sat down quietly with ‘Keima in a corner while others continued to explore; I was content with just holding my ‘miracle’ tight in my hands as thanksgiving continued to flow from my heart, through my lips to God above.

As I reflected on the experience, I realised that oftentimes in our journey through life, we get to some spaces and situations where nobody but God can see us, hear us , reach us, understand us or help us, regardless of how much they love us or how noble their intentions towards us are. Based on this, I knew that the time and energy that I expended screaming out for help to people who could do absolutely nothing about my situation should have been directed at God who is our ever present help at all times. 

That day, I concluded therefore that it is best practice and a fail-proof life strategy to build a culture that actively seeks and looks to God first for answers, in any and every situation that we find ourselves in. This is the second big lesson that I learnt on this particular trip to Toronto which I would never forget.

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Memoirs From Toronto (1)

‘Summer was beautiful’ would be me putting it mildly and probably understating the richness of my experience in its entirety. Just being situated in the context of family was the brightness the landscape of my life needed, as it offered me the opportunity to reassess and appreciate the gift of the very people I am blessed with and surrounded by. We littered the timelines of our holidays with barbecues, camping activities, countless sleepovers, outings and other fun stuff. To cap the season up, I made a trip with my immediate family to Toronto and two very distinct experiences I had on this trip brought with it 2 huge lessons I would never forget in a hurry. 

Kamba had traveled ahead of us to attend to a few things and so I left home that Saturday with the children and my niece; for the sake of my niece who was visiting Toronto for the first time, I had made arrangements to explore downtown Toronto a bit before heading to Oshawa.  The plan was simple; my long-time sister-friend, Ibiwunmi was to pick us up at the airport upon arrival, take us off to her house to unwind and have breakfast and then we would head out for sight-seeing while the children stayed back at home to have a good time. After we all had our heart’s fill of play and fun, we would head out to Oshawa, where we would be camping for the entire 4-day duration of the trip. 

We arrived at the airport that morning in good time for all the check-in formalities required. The reason for choosing an early morning flight was very clear; we wanted to have ample time to explore and play. While we waited in the lounge to board the Aircraft, an announcement made by the airline’s passenger assistance personnel interrupted my thoughts. They needed some people to give up their seats on the 5.30 a.m flight and join a later one that would leave for Toronto by 4.30 pm that same day. They went further to offer a huge incentive as compensation for people who were willing to give up their seats. I heard this and my head did a quick calculation of the amount of money which could potentially be in my account if I responded to the call. I did a quick mental scan of the actual cost price of the tickets and saw that it was a ‘profitable exchange’. 

All the hard things had been done already; our bags had been checked in, boarding passes for the 4.30 pm would be issued to us immediately and all we needed to do was go home,rest a bit and come back later to catch the later flight to Toronto. ‘Easy-peasy’ , I thought and so I stood up and walked to the counter, I spoke with the attendant, and confidently declared my willingness to give up our seats and join the 4.30 pm flight. She responded in that ever-sweet manner, “Oh! I am sorry, we needed only 3 people and we already have that number. Thanks for offering.”

My goodness! What just happened? I walked back to my seat slowly, hoping nobody else heard or noticed the conversation that just ensued. Well, a small part of me felt slightly embarrassed by the awkwardness of everything that happened, but the bigger part of me was shocked. I tried to make sense of my feelings and determine exactly how I felt, but I could not.

Before I walked up to have the conversation with the lady at the counter, I thought I knew myself. I thought I knew the things I could do or not do. I thought I understood my motivations and was largely self-aware, but apparently, blind-spots do exist. My heart lay bare before me and I saw who I could be, given certain conditions. How else would I explain the speed with which it all happened – A quick and sweat-less monetary reward in exchange for weeks of careful planning, anticipation and sacrifice, all at the instance of a 45-second announcement; the trade-in was way too cheap and fast.

If you examine it through the eyes of being strategic, having business acumen or an exceptional ability to seize and maximize opportunities, what I did would seem very brilliant. But when weighed against the backdrop of running every decision, big or small by God, I scored low. I certainly did not check or even think deeply. Money called, Funmi answered. I didn’t even stop to think about the people waiting for me on the other side of my flight, and the implication of my actions on all the plans we had made. What else would I throw all else away in exchange for? Quite frankly, if anybody had painted that scenario and described my actions as how I would potentially react, I would have argued my head off. “That can never be me” I would have blurted out confidently.

What I found a bit worrisome was also the fact that if I did not experience a blatant rejection at the counter, I probably would not have reflected on my decision making process and observed the loopholes and shortcomings therein. I thank God for the mercy that prevented the transaction from going through, but also wondered how many other times I had acted on my own impulses. The experience showed me that how we arrive at a destination is as important as the destination itself and there is a need to carefully re-evaluate the yardsticks for decision making on every front. My first lesson from this particular trip gave me a strong resolve to consciously acknowledge God when making all my decisions and not lean on my own understanding.

Eventually, we boarded our 5.30 a.m flight to Toronto and landed in good time. We had the best time with family and friends and left for Oshawa later that evening; everybody was exhausted from the day’s activities, but grateful nonetheless for the experience.

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A Dash of Colours

It wasn’t hard to send IdaraAbasi off to bed on Monday night, as we had been counting down for days now to her kindergarten graduation; we had picked out her outfit weeks before and had gone over her recitals and presentations together. Tuesday morning finally came and we could barely hold back our joy; Idara went off to school excitedly in her beautiful ball dress and we joined her as a family at the start of the ceremony.

What a delight to see the other precious little humans with whom my daughter had shared learnings, laughter and memories in the classroom. They sang their hearts out with accompanying actions, as they showcased what they had learnt in the school year. Listening to their teacher speak about all of them and generally provide updates about their progress provoked my tear glands; my heart truly blessed her and the entire team that worked together to make learning such a beautiful experience for them.

I particularly loved the fact that all the kindergartners wore tee-shirts that bore the inscription “Class of 2035” which is the year they would finish from high school. “So perfect”, I thought. It forced me to think about IdaraAbasi in the ‘not-so-distant’ future and was the friendly reminder I needed that “whatever I wanted to see IdaraAbasi become in 2035 and beyond, the work starts now”.

We moved on very quickly to the distribution of certificates, taking of pictures and general celebrations. It was a joy to meet Idara’s best friend, Elena, whom she always spoke about at home. Two beautiful, innocent 5 year olds; bound by pure hearts and undiluted love. I met Elena’s mum as well, we exchanged contact details just so we could plan play dates for both of them during the summer holidays.

Everything went beautifully well and the celebration left me in a state of gratitude to God for the journey thus far and a renewed confidence in his ability to guide us through the days ahead. As we made the drive back home, I began to reflect on the activities of the day. It was all bright, beautiful and joyful but there was this huge level of discomfort I was feeling which I just couldn’t dismiss; I went through all of the events till I recognised it.

The design of the CERTIFICATE! That was it. It was done in an array of colours that I had come to recognise and associate with a certain movement; “Kindergarten”, which was printed boldly on top of the certificate was outlined in the colours of the rainbow, but in reverse fashion. I fought hard to unsee what I was seeing, and unthink my thoughts; In fact, I went on google to confirm the ‘colours of the rainbow” and held the certificate against it to verify. In order to clarify my thoughts further, I asked Kamba “ The design of this certificate, is it rainbow themed, abi is it my eyes?” Trust Kamba, he replied in the affirmative, without mincing words.

The moment I established what it was, I felt a mix of emotions and an agitation in my Spirit at the effrontery, the audacity and the subtlety of their methods. I felt violated; like my grounds had been trespassed on. A part of you is probably thinking, “Funmi, it’s not that deep.  The rainbow is a child-friendly theme, and you are just making a fuss over a certificate.” It’s okay, I hear you.

Ordinarily I would love to just drink water and mind my own business, but I feel compelled to let you know that the forces that are fighting for a “share of mind” in your child’s life are not sleeping. Truth is, there is a movement that is working hard to impose their ideologies on your children, through subliminal messaging, with or without your consent. It’s a race for acceptability and top of mind awareness in your innocent and unsuspecting child. 

As adults, we already have the tools for making our choices based on our values, backgrounds, personal experiences, faith, aspirations etc and can essentially differentiate between good/evil and choose accordingly. Children on the other hand are ‘tabula rasa”, having no preconceived ideas, predetermined goals or innate ideas; they are essentially described as a blank slate, meaning that they become what we feed them or inscribe on their hearts.

Being a student of literature and a lover of language, I understand the concept and power of themes and I’m fascinated by the study of  semantics. Whenever I interact with a piece of art, in whatever form, I am constantly searching for its underlying theme i.e. the unifying idea or the core of the message being passed across. Also, in examining the concept of meaning as relates to words and symbols generally, I often drill beyond the literal and visible meaning to the indirect/hidden/implied meanings. 

Against the backdrop of the aforementioned, I wondered why the creative team behind the design of my daughter’s certificate chose those colours out of all the colours in the world. Being a marketing communications practitioner, I know that every element in a communication plan is undermined by a strategy that is designed to elicit a certain response or produce a result over a predefined period of time. There is always a goal in view and when these marketing campaigns are being pieced together, every single element (including fonts, colours, copy etc) is carefully selected and combined to drive home the point. 

Children are currently being targeted, exploited and victimised through subliminal messaging hidden in pictures, imagery, songs, books and other media that they consume. They are presenting the concept of the rainbow in ways that children would love and accept and essentially be drawn to. All of these things exist below the threshold of sensation or consciousness and are capable of affecting one’s mind, emotions and behaviour without being aware of it.

The crux of this write-up is simply to encourage all of us to wake up and do the work of aggressively immersing our children in the values and principles that we hold dear. Firstly because it is our God-given responsibility as gate-keepers and secondly because if you think you are too busy, the world is not; it is actively keeping vigil and strategising for the absolute destruction of the next generation in simple,creative ways that you would barely notice.

Instead of saying to yourself, “Funmi, you probably are overthinking this thing”, why not go back and review some of the books, movies, tv shows, games, social media, etc that your children have access to and see for yourself? I assure you unequivocally that you will find themes like violence, nudity, man’s inhumanity to man, the weakening of the family structure (particularly the father figure) etc intricately woven into beautiful storylines and delivered in bright and engaging content to your children. I recently discovered that this educational show that I really love and had endorsed for my children that teaches them to count and spell has all other numbers in solid colours while the number 7 is arrayed in the colours of the rainbow. Imagine! I assure you that these things are not mere coincidence, E get why!

Scrutinise everything around you objectively, and ensure that the things that your child is exposed to are things you approve of, which align with your values and your faith. There’s no room to be passive in today’s world; tend your farmland, so that it does not become a wasteland. 

Fight for a Share of Voice in your child’s life, it’s worth whatever it takes to get it. May we be greatly helped, in this journey of raising the next generation.

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Ludo, Life & a few thoughts

On that particular day, we had a family outing to the beach, and to be honest it wasn’t quite the ideal beach day; it was a very rainy, wet, windy type of day. The children didn’t make it seem like we picked the wrong day to go to the beach though; being children, they dug right in as soon as we got there. The feel of the rain on their bare skin thrilled them; it would seem like being at the beach on a rainy day was a prayer answered for them. As soon as we got into the cabana, they got out the toy shovels, buckets and what not and began to play with sand and build castles. The sheer joy and contentment of being ‘free to play’ was priceless; they clearly didn’t share the sentiment of “this rain has ruined our plans”.

We adults on the other hand could not release ourselves to the freedom to live in the moment without being plagued with worry and regret. We wondered why we picked that day of all days to be at the beach. We wondered why we did not check the weather forecast for the day before heading out of the house. We wondered why we didn’t deck the children up in warm clothing before heading out. We wondered why the food we ordered for the children was taking forever, when the children were visibly hungry. We wondered so much, it was impossible for us to ‘look away’ and just have fun.

Before we headed out that particular morning, we had grand plans. 3 of us, women, had come together to celebrate our husbands on Fathers’ day with our families. We had bought gifts for our men, brought different board games along and just generally planned to ‘relax and be taken kiarof’. “This rain is our undoing”, we thought, and that’s how our time on the beach slipped by.

‘Keima’s naptime came by at some point and I had no clue how to put him to sleep. I worried my head off, as I could see how he was fighting sleep off, just because he wanted to join the other children to play in/with the sand. My worry did nothing productive; a long walk by the calm waters, snuggled on his father’s shoulder did the magic. In a short while, Kamba brought back a sleeping baby to me, I laid a blanket on a beanbag, and I watched my baby sleep with absolutely no worries at all in the world.

Somewhere between when ‘Keima fell asleep and when our food arrived, Kamba and I found the courage to fight for the kind of day we had envisioned when we left home that morning. We decided to go for joy, even if it literally meant ‘dancing in the rain’. I said, “Kambz, come and sit down, let me quickly beat you at a game of ludo”. He responded laughingly, “Iwo, you are trying to mess around with a grandmaster, I will show you today.”

We both laughed, and the game started. At the first roll of a dice, I got 6-3; the game started on a high for me. Kamba on the other hand waited quite a bit before he came out of his ‘house’; about 3 of my ‘seeds’ were already out and moving before any of his came out. Trust me to taunt him with my progress; I teased his life out and he took it all in stride. In a short while, he got the “6” he needed and his “seed” came out. Being a skilled player/strategist, he started chopping my “seeds” anyhow in no time. The 1st time was fine, the second time, it pained me but I didn’t show it too much…..you see that 3rd one ehn? It entered my bone marrow. That ‘seed’ was almost ‘home’, and then Kamba cut it in its prime. It got to me, especially with the annoying soundtrack of Kamba’s taunting, evil laugh that trailed each win. I said to him, “Kambz, I am done with this game”, and I meant it. His attacks on the ludo board got to me personally, I couldn’t go on anymore and I legit called it quits. Based on the game so far, I concluded that he was the winner and I wanted to walk away without getting to the finish line. 

He encouraged me to continue the game, which I did, albeit reluctantly. Minutes in, the tide changed; I chopped some of his ‘seeds’, got some of my ‘seeds’ ‘home’ successfully and generally ended up being the winner for the day. You can’t imagine the extreme joy I felt at winning; that priceless “stand-up-for-the-champion” moment. At that point, it no longer mattered how the game started, what was most important was how it ended. Guess who was most thankful for not giving up? Funmz of course. I broadcast my victory with glee, and generally made a show of how I beat him hands down at the game. 

As though to mark my outstanding victory, our food finally arrived; I gobbled up my meal very quickly, the hunger was real. Just before lunch was over, a friend retorted “I am not quite a fan of ludo, there is no skill in it; it’s more a game of chance, where your fate is determined by a roll of dice ”. I laughed at the thought jokingly and responded, saying,” there might be no skill in it in that sense, but there are life lessons in it; I learned today not to give up so easily, especially in the beginning.“ 

A while later, I reconsidered what Bisi had said and thought to myself, “while a lot is determined by the roll of dice, a lot more is determined by what is done with what is rolled out.” To win at Ludo is to decide to play what you have strategically and to remain patient, dogged and optimistic, even in the face of defeat.

This year 2022, regardless of the blessings or twists that life may bring, we choose to ‘stay jiggy’ and keep our Spirits up, knowing that all things work out perfectly for our good. Just as in my unlikely win in that day’s ludo game, may we uncover many wins in 2022. 

Happy New Year!