THIS WOMAN OF FAITH

So early last year I joined the sea of people commuting into the city of london every day for work. It was such an exciting feeling. The morning rush, the fast paced shuffle of feet approaching from all directions, the well tailored suits and starched shirts, the air heavy with scents and perfumes and many unfamiliar faces. Wow Stella you are now a City Girl😁😁😁 I wasn't used to the hassle at all. Having only ever worked within a half hour drive from home, this was in itself an adventure. Then I met him...A bulky guy with a funny looking face. His loud sonorous voice immediately made me feel at ease. He was the newspaper man..but he was no regular newspaper guy.. He stood in the midst of the crowd outside Bank station with a loud voice greeting all who could hear, with the words;Good morning City, have a lovely day. Wow I thought to myself, how spectacular Every morning he was there greeting, smiling and handing out newspapers. His chant was the same as it was the

My African Broom. I have so many fond memories of growing up and lately It has been the little things that have left me feeling nostalgic, let’s attribute it to missing my native home.So when I found some bunches of broom at my local African shop a year ago it triggered a whole range of emotions. I am so sure I had seen those bunches of brooms before that day and never took notice of them, But on this particular day,I felt drawn to them and So I bought one. I can’t explain how it made me feel, there was just something so comforting and familiar about holding a broom in my hands It evoked so many memories. I remember as a junior in secondary school, my daily morning duty was to sweep the entrance into our dormitory and you were considered lucky if that was your lot.lol I remembered the huge palm tree that sat in our front yard in our old house and how my mother would make my brother and I serve punishment making brooms from the palm leaves for being naughty 

It was 6.45pm....my brain was doing a slow dance It couldn’t quite figure out what to make for dinner It had been an emotionally draining day.. As I stood by the counter top my thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell How strange..I thought. We were new in town and we had no friends or acquaintances, who Could be visiting so late?  it was definitely not a delivery. I looked at my husband in wonder as the buzzer kept going. It is Dr So and So...came his reply as he dropped the intercom, Really, what does he want? Why is he here? Bidemi looked as perturbed as I was You see  earlier in the day..we had had a consultation with Dr So and So to discuss the findings of the genetic test bidemi and I had done.The hospital had insisted following the death of our daughter. We sat through that rather heart breaking meeting as the Dr looked at the paper which held our  fate and told us empathetically that we were both carries of a gene that made our chances of having healthy childre

My little man loves the barbershop Right from the very day he had his first haircut. I still remember the video his dad made on his first visit when he turned 1. Little Zaine in a big swivel chair covered in a cutting gown; No tears, no fuss.... just pure excitement.. He totally loved it and it has now become a routine he shares with his dad every fortnight. So few weeks back,When I asked if I could take him to the barbershop because his hair was overgrown, he blatantly refused;I want dad to take me not you! Well, daddy was away and mummy would have to do came my reply,after promising that I would make his favourite meal of okra and Amama(Amala ; a western Nigerian meal) he obliged,So off we went.(The joys of parenthood 🤣🤣😂) As we awaited our turn,I couldn’t help but notice a tearful little boy in One of the barber’s chair... His doting dad was trying to console him to no avail as the barber struggled to finish the cut. He was a new guy and I could tell he was having