Can There Ever Be Another…?

It’s often said that anyone who’s had a life-altering situation or experience never forgets that moment when his or her life changed forever. I guess this is true now for me too. I remember exactly calling Dr Abdulahi about seven times within ten minutes and following up with four text messages within the same period in the wee hours of that fateful day, May 30 this year. How time flies? It will be two weeks by tomorrow.

I had stayed awake all night and was constantly on the phone with my sister Azuka and also the lady we had come to know and call ‘Aunty TLC’. Intermittently I called my other sister Dorothy (  another sister, Florence having left for her US base just a day earlier and was yet to land) and wondered if she and my dad (God please keep him) could hurry over to the National Hospital in Abuja as my darling mom had just been wheeled into the ICU as she fought to stay with us. When I spoke with the Consultant, Dr Wakama at about 1.45am I sensed from his voice that the fight may not be going our way but that didn’t deter me. I kept the faith, prayed the Memorare as many times as I could and being in the month of May, a Marian month (this would make sense to Catholics) I left it in the hands of God. I had returned from Abuja just two days earlier and had hugged my mom before leaving for the airport and had told her I would be back to see her. I kept vigil and worked the phones with Dr Abdulahi, Azuka and aunty TLC. It was not a good place to be in, trust me. I paced my room, sat up on the bed, went to the washroom, knelt down and begged God to let my mom stay with us some more.

The unquestionable God had other plans and felt she had run a good race and fought a good fight and that it was time for her earthly sojourn to come to a close.

So in spite of our collective best efforts and those of friends and people of good disposition, by about 6.30am on May 30 this year, I became motherless. My life had changed forever. My mommy dearest had gone to be with God. For her biological children and her many ‘other children’, a light had gone out, the fire had been extinguished. For our dad, her husband of forty-nine years and ten months, he had lost a lifelong companion, an unusual confidante and a sister rolled in one. There can never be another. Our mother Theresa, our saint had gone marching…

On August 3, we would commit her to mother earth. Coincidentally, that day was to be the fiftieth anniversary of her wedding to my dad. Surely there can never be another like my mom. May the good Lord grant her eternal rest.

VACANT means FREE

If you are wondering what the title of today's post really is about or if it indeed makes any sense, you may not be alone. Had I not been involved myself, I guess I'd be in your corner as well. Before going into the story that led to the title of this post, let me put you out of your misery if you are one of them scratching your heads and say it shows how some things we take for granted may not be that simple after all. It also shows how complicated the English language can be (is that news?). I guess I'm feeling a tad generous and if I could invest a little in a lottery (spare me the lecture about how harmful gambling is) I'd have gone out and played the Lotto right away.

So it happened that about a fortnight ago (for you who speak the North American version of English, it means two weeks… lol), I was on a long haul flight from the most populated African country (some would add that it is the most populated black nation on earth) to the only country geographically on top of the US. I leave you to decipher what the two countries referred to above are. That’s some trivia for you. By the way, I hope it’s acceptable and politically not incorrect to describe a nation as black. In these days of danmed  if I do and still danmed if I don’t, can anything not attract some criticism?

So I was on this flight and on the second leg of it I was enjoying some banter with two African ladies (wow I hope I have not put my foot in my mouth with that description) while stretching my long limbs and hoping to stave off DVT (now surely that’s a recent addition to the street lexicon in Nigeria after the passing on of a creative musician turned reality show participant from what is alleged to be deep vein thrombosis).

We were standing by the aisle close to a washroom and some lady (events would later show she was a resident of North America) after reading the sign on the door of the washroom (‘loo’ to you Brits) in green colour (‘color’ if you are American) that read VACANT, asks aloud if that meant FREE? Now I’m wondering if that question was rhetoric or if indeed it was directed at us being that we were no cabin crew. One of the two ladies I was chatting with volunteered a reply that ‘vacant’ meant ‘unoccupied’. Four of us then chuckled and the lady that asked the question proceeded to push the door into the washroom.

I hope now you can relate to the title of this post. I hope also that you can now appreciate why some words that you may take for granted might indeed mean nothing or have a totally different meaning to persons who are from a different geography. That reminds of when I had newly relocated to the most culturally diverse city in the world (it is also the most populated city in the nation fondly referred to as the Great White North) and my son Papa had come down with coughs and a cold. I had taken him to a walk-in clinic and promptly told the doctor that he had catarrh. The doctor looked at me puzzled and wondered what that meant. I was more puzzled that a doctor did not know what catarrh was. Finally after describing the symptoms to him, he said ‘ oh runny nose…?’ That was an epiphany of sorts for me. So what was catarrh to me was runny nose to the doctor.

So when next you are in company of persons of different backgrounds, please pause to think if words that you use have the same meanings to them. You would be amazed that ‘trunk’ may refer to a part of a car that others would refer to (not the car please) as a ‘boot’ and not just a part of a tree.  So also is a ‘hood’ a part of a car which some would call ‘bonnet’ and not just part of a garb worn by priests and monks or by those who are either trying to keep warm or making a fashion statement.

If I had you reading to this point and I have not confused you, I say thank you because vacant may mean free or unoccupied. I welcome comments.

For The Love of Motherland

I did promise during my last visit to share a bit about Danju's visit to motherland - Nigeria; his second visit in twelve years. This was no ordinary vacation and had begun with an invite by the Nigerian BasketBall Federation (NBBF) for him to join the under 18 national camp. The coaches and some FIBA agents and scouts had seen video clips of his shoot around and some game clips as well and were impressed enough to send an invite through 'yours sincerely' to him. You can imagine my pride to have my son being invited to the junior national team camp of his motherland. I was ecstatic.
When the excitement had worn off, it was time for business. He was writing his grade eleven last semester exams, I was not sure if his Nigerian passport was current and whether his Canadian passport was still valid and not expired. Furthermore I had my fears about being able to get him a seat on an airplane in time for him to make the 23 hour transatlantic flight from Edmonton to Lagos to make the camp. I also thought of the impact of jet-lag as he would literally be stepping off the airplane and straight to the national stadium for a selection practice. My excitement had metamorphosed into anxiety and concerns. And as I often are wont to do when faced with obstacles, I turned to prayers. And pray I did.
To the glory of the Almighty God, Danju made the trip and I was on hand at the airport to receive him. Once he was done with immigration and customs and stepped into the arrival section, I broke out in a wide grin of relief and love. I rushed over, hugged him, grabbed his luggage and we headed to the parking lot. I gave him his brief  which was to get some passport photographs taken and to head to the national stadium for practice. This was a 'baptism' of fire and a welcome to Nigeria.
We made the hour-long journey snaking through traffic to the stadium and he was thrust into the fray right away. Some of his initial shock (which did not surprise me) was about the state of the basketball court and how he could compete without risking injuries due to the slippery nature of the court and the very physical style of play, a huge departure from the style in Canada which was longer on skills . He quickly made some adjustments after taking a few knocks and was right smack in it 'dueling' for a spot. After three grueling days of two practices each day with each practice lasting three hours, Danju made the cut of twelve players who were to represent Nigeria on a four nation tournament in Africa.
For anybody who had ever worn his country's colours and represented his country, this is a feeling that lasts a lifetime I'm told. By this, Danju had added another page to his basketball portfolio.

Coincidentally, while Danju was on this trip to Nigeria, he was picked to attend the Milo "Giants of Africa" camp run by Masai Ujiri - the GM of Denver Nuggets, a professional NBA team. This was an icing on the cake for his trip. For anyone who may want to sneeze at this, Masai Ujiri is the first African General Manager of a North American professional sports team and the only one as yet. To have Danju be part of a camp run by Masai along with some local and foreign coaches and with tons of scouts in the stands, was huge for me. Perhaps a corroboration of this was that CNN Africa Voices recently ran a feature over many days of this camp and Masai Ujiri; and seeing my Danju along with kids who attended that camp being shown repeatedly on CNN made my day.

Danju has since returned to school in Canada for his final year of high school and is shopping for sports scholarships for university as I write. I hope I have some cheery news to report with time on this.

Talking of sports, Papa's junior high school football (not soccer ) team - the Bellerose Bulldogs had a fantastic run right up to winning the city championships without dropping a game. I understand from an excited Papa (and for good reasons) that this was a first in the school's history. Way to Go Bulldogs.

http://bchs.spschools.org/?p=2033


I must not fail to mention, that Danju travelled to various parts of Nigeria during his down time while visiting and was able to squeeze in a trip to the UK (his first trip to that country) and did so during the Olympics and had good bonding time with his aunt (my youngest sis) and his cousins - Jaaziel and Marjon and their dad in Nottingham.

I'd share more of Danju's trip to Nigeria when I return.

Catching Up 2

I have just finished going through some photos Danju shared with me on whatsapp of what he termed a crazy weather in St Albert-everywhere and I mean everywhere is covered in snow. Is that news and should it be news? Well, the great white North, as us Canucks fondly refer to Canada, is famed for her winter and cold weather so ordinarily having lots of the white stuff around should be familiar to Canadians as tea should be to the Chinese. To have Danju then make this a discussion item should be some food for thought. Just in case you are wondering, this was recorded in the first week of November and winter in St Albert is known to last until late into April. Phew! Crazy indeed.
Just a week earlier we were dealing though not directly in St Albert, but down in Ontario ( our home province for almost a decade) with the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Are these signs of the end times or are we paying the price of a depletion of the ozone layer? Perhaps it's a result of a clash between El Nino and La Nina. Whatever it may be,I pray God to spare us the inconvenience and heartache.
As a dad who dotes on his kids, you can imagine my anxiety at the times such as I have described above in trying to connect with Sampi in St Johns, Newfoundland (where her university is) as well as Danju and Papa in St Albert ( where their high school Bellerose is); and doing so from Nigeria where the need to make a living and earn some dough has brought me back to. Life indeed can be a challenge.

Between the last time you read from me and now, so much has happened in the lives of my little angels: Sampi in addition to her undergrad program had become a certified home painter; Danju had come to Nigeria (invited by the Nigerian Basketball Federation) to play basketball for Nigeria's U-18 national team. That was some experience and a subject for another day. Papa had completed his junior high and was now at Bellerose Composite High School where as part of the junior football team was riding an undefeated season (the first in the school's history if my records are valid). Their championship game comes up next week Tuesday- November 13. Go Bulldogs Go...
Even though I'd be physically unable to attend, I'd be rooting for you in spirit from Nigeria.

Return to Eden for Papa ( accompanied by Danju )

I am borrowing the title above from a movie I watched many 'moons' and 'ions' ago but which was very profound even to my then much younger mind.

If I have yet to mention it, permit me to say so now - Papa (if you have been reading my musings here, you probably know whom that is) was born at Parkland Memorial hospital in Dallas some fifteen years ago. For students of history and politics, this was the same hospital that JFK - John Fitzgerald Kennedy was rushed to after we have been told he was shot by Lee Harvey Oswald.

So it was a 'return to Eden' on April 7 (holy Saturday) for Papa when he and Danju arrived Dallas to spend Easter with my sis Flo (who is also Papa's godmother). Their journey had begun a day earlier (they were coming from Canada) and just in case you are wondering if a journey from Canada to the States takes that long, please stop wondering. They were traveling by air but West Jet and American Air chose not to talk to each other even though the flight was one booked by West Jet but operated by AA. So my boys left Edmonton and landed in Calgary to take the connecting flight to DFW only to be told the second and final leg of the flight had been cancelled due to the tornado that had ravaged Dallas days earlier. Good reasons yes BUT why were the boys not informed by either of the airlines? And we live in a digital age where almost everything is at push button stage right?

To cut to the chase, after some talking-to by my sis -Flo, the boys were put in a hotel in Calgary for Friday night and then flown early Saturday to Dallas by the airlines.

Sampi is away at the university in New Foundland and couldn't make the trip as she was right smack in the middle of her exams.

So to Dallas the boys went and enjoy the trip they did, not just the toasty warm weather at a time when St Albert where we call home at the moment was still dealing with snow and sub zero degrees climate, but because Flo and UB made sure the boys had fun.

Yours sincerely did fly in from motherland (where I work at the moment and) first to Houston and then drove down accompanied by C who was kind enough to make out some time from her other family responsibilities. I must put on record the kindness of my brodas in Houston for their warm jolly hospitality topped by being given the Avalon for use during my stay in Houston and Dallas. Awu...

The boys and I have since returned (on separate flights) to Canada but it was a lovely Easter break and a good bonding opportunity for all.

Trips by families are useful in many ways and where the pockets and more would support it, should be done.

As I try to keep instilling some deep sense of values , responsibility and obligation to my children, I ask that you take a moment to watch the video below which I think is soul stirring. If this video doesn't get you thinking, i don't know what will.
Enjoy and be inspired.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZ46Ot4_lLo

Scratching My Head - SMH

Hey Diary,
Here we go again. It was Mothers’ Day yesterday. Sorry I
guess I should be more specific. It was Mothers’ Day for non-Catholics in
Nigeria (not sure about other parts of the world) yesterday. Which yet again
makes me wonder why Catholics and non-Catholics can’t seem to agree on a
harmonized day for celebrating Mothers’ Day? I hope someday there won’t be a
different day for celebrating Christmas by Catholics and a separate day by
non-Catholics. Now if that ever happens, would it really be a surprise? I leave
you to your views. Feel welcome however to share those views if you feel so
compelled to. After all in this age of democracy, we shouldn’t be seen to agree
on all things all the time.
In order to err on the side of caution therefore, I sent out
goodwill messages to the female members of my family, friends, acquaintances, ‘fans’
and associates not discriminating between those who are Catholics and those who
are not.
So as a Catholic should, and especially during the Lenten
period, I was at Mass. Talking of Mass,
anyone who has attended Catholic Mass in Nigeria in the past 5 years (or
perhaps for longer) would have become familiar with a “Prayer against bribery
and corruption in Nigeria”. I have often wondered why that prayer is said. If every
Catholic in Nigeria refrained from offering or receiving bribes, inducements
for undeserved and preferential treatment, perhaps we would have (going by the
sheer population of Catholics in Nigeria) caused enough positive ground
swelling to lead to a rebirth and may thereafter not have need for that prayer.
So while we still say the prayer for the time being, we should also with the
same zeal, just stop encouraging the scourge that the twin ogres of bribery and
corruption have become in Nigeria.
Just before you start wondering if I have something against
praying or against Catholics, please perish the thought. I am a committed
Catholic (was born a Catholic) and I expect to practice the faith until I
transit to eternal glory at a time that the good Lord chooses.
I get the feeling that if any of my blogs would elicit a
debate, this may be it. I stand to be proved wrong.
Enjoy.

How Far We Have Come

In a couple of hours, Sampi would be turning 19. Let me rephrase that because she has already turned 19 if we are to go by the local time where she is at the moment. Interesting, how much we have grown and how far we have come. If you are wondering what my 'rambling' is all about, my only daughter and first child, is in a university in far away St Johns, New Foundland and today's blog is about her 19th birthdate.

She's been away since September 1 accompanied by Siya to help her with settling into a distant and new environment (three and a half hours ahead of us who are on the MST). God I miss my baby so. Today I walked into what used to be her room and my worst fears came true. My daughter doesn't live at home now. Almost all that reminded me of her physically had gone and I cried. I cried out of a realization about how much she has (and by extension us have) grown and how far we have come as a family. I cried because this is a reality check. As parents, we are blessed by God with children (biological or not) and at some point, those blessings leave to pursue their dreams and to discover themselves. My Sampi has just reached that milestone and that made me cry out of joy. I have exchanged no less than fifteen text messages and phone calls with her since that September 1 day when she left for Memorial University.

Danju and Papa are still home but I am overcome by anticipatory grief of when they too would embark on their own journeys. The wheel of life indeed is cyclical and it is always spinning.

The term 'Empty Nesters' now has a personal meaning to me. Not too long ago (that is if you called twenty years ago recent), I was a newly wed. To the glory of God, I became a new dad three times over with time. Soon I was a father of a teenager (phew that came with it's own excitement and challenges) and now one leg away from wearing an 'empty nester' badge of honour.

I continue to count my blessings and ignore the scars and if I were to come this way again, I would want it same way where my children are concerned. So as my Sampi celebrates her nineteenth birthdate, I ask the good Lord to guide her every step and to bless and keep her in HIS hands.

Thanks a lot for keeping faith with my diary and though it has been a while since my last blog, I appreciate that you made out time to visit with me. You are welcome to post a comment and while at it, if the spirit moves you, say a prayer for my Sampi. God bless you.

.

Hope Is Alive

Growing up I was taught never to quit. I was taught that even when the seas are rough, if you stayed focused and kept faith with your goal, that treasure would be found. I have tried to live with this in mind whenever I run into challenges as I have a couple of times on this journey called life. I have come to accept the scars of life are the stripes of having lived. Don’t get me wrong, I am not glorifying mishaps or hard ship but life is a journey not a destination, it is a marathon not a sprint or dash. You win some and you lose some. It’s not about falling but getting up each and every time you fall and trudging on until the good Lord calls your number. It therefore behoves on us to keep hope alive.
Last night was Family Night for us, our fortnightly ‘ritual’ where we sit in the family room and shoot breeze until we all hit the sack. For yesterday, the honour of the ‘last person standing’ was Danju’s.
Sampi should be excused after working for five hours at MacDonald’s where she’s being exposed to the reality check of life. Working not because she has to, but because she wants to. She’s been loving it so far and now with her high school grad behind her and university not starting until September, it helps put some loose change in her purse and keeps her away from trouble and mischief.
Danju and I had gone to our recreational centre – Servus Place; I, to the gym as always while Danju went shooting hoops on the court with some pals of his. Papa elected to stay home and catch up with his friends online having technically finished grade 7 that day.
Thereafter, Danju and I went over and got some Pizza, chicken wings, carrots and veggie dip (yes we have to get people eating healthy somewhat) and on the way back picked up Sampi from her job. When we got home, Papa had laid the drinks, chips and for the movie of the night it was “Wedding Crashers”.
We woke up this morning and witnessed the last hope for Africa in the current soccer world cup contest, the ‘Black Stars’ of Ghana ease past the US team for a spot in the round of eight. Hope is alive afterall. I must add that this is only the second time Ghana is competing at the senior level in the soccer world cup. In their debut, they got to the round of 16 again beating the US team on the way, talk of lightening striking twice.
So while I feel for the US team who played with so much passion and commitment, in my inner most heart, I am glad Ghana is still in the race and carrying the flag for Africa. Hope is Alive…!

Dad's Birthday

There are feelings that words seem incapable of capturing, feelings of love, pangs of pain, sense of grief, intense joy etc. I experienced such a feeling of deep and sincere love listening to the smile in my dad's voice when I called this morning to wish him a happy birthday. Dad turns 72 today!
Being so geographically far away (I'm in Canada - the true North, at this very moment while my parents are back in Nigeria, my dear homeland), and thanks to technology I had sent him a text message at exactly 6am local time in Nigeria in an effort at being the first to wish him a happy birthday. In my dad's family (I have to make that distinction since I'm raising a family of my own), it is gradually becoming a cheery contest to know who's the first to call on a birthday whenever any one of us has a birthday. So today I guess I was in a pole position with my text message. I then secured my 'position' with a phone call a couple of minutes ago and I could feel the 'old boy' smiling on the phone. Danju and Papa who were set to catch their bus to school also got in on the conversation.Three generations of my family!! I keep counting my blessings.

What has soccer got to do with it?

I have just finished watching the soccer game (pardon my holding back a lot of emotions at this time) between Nigeria and South Korea; a game that Nigeria needed to win by just a goal difference to qualify for the round of 16. Do I hear anyone say that Nigeria’s performance at the fiesta in South Africa has been sub par (except for that by the goalie Vincent Enyeama) that progressing to the next round would been an injustice to better prepared teams or that getting out of round one would only have exposed Nigeria’s inadequacies even more.
So what was the issue with Nigeria? Some say it is a reflection of the fire-fighting attitude that has become commonplace around us. Others would argue that it is an outcome of nepotism and the federal character principle of sacrificing quality and performance for an all-inclusive political correctness. There are those who wonder why some half-fit players made the selection and yet another group asks what on earth made Nigeria allow a couple of over-the-hill, tired legs to board the team airplane to South Africa?
That then brings me to the caption – what has soccer got to do with it? Why do we as human beings seem to lack the will power, ‘the mojo’, the spunk, the gumption and the decisiveness to make those hard decisions that should be made in the interest of equity and fairness? As I ponder this thought, I also think of how we are faced with similar challenges in our private lives.
There are tons of stories of relationships that never should have been. There may be an equal number of liaisons that should get the axe. It was fathers’ day on Sunday in North America (and may be in some other parts of the world too) and greetings and felicitations were flowing back and forth from east to west and from north to south. In the midst of it all, a friend had wondered aloud if there was a difference between merely being a biological father and being a real dad ready to meet all the tough challenges that come with fatherhood. While I am a dad, I do not think I know it all and so would ‘plead the fifth’ in this case. I am also raising three lovely children and wonder if I am empowering them and exposing them enough to ‘stop the bleeding’ when it becomes absolutely necessary that it’s the right thing to do as they forge relationships in their lives in the future.
So as people take stock of the performance of the Nigerian soccer team to the on-going world cup and with all the passionate and strongly held (albeit contending) views, I ask again – what has soccer got to do with it? Is this purely a case of soccer or is it symptomatic of a larger human issue about decision-making? We live and learn daily don’t we?

Everyday is a Gift

We are often told and reminded in holy books, by sages, in random talks and writings and by several other sources, that like life, everyday is a gift from the most high Lord. On June 12 at the Shaw Conference centre in downtown Edmonton in Canada, my daughter and first child Sampi along with 200+ other excited teenagers had her high school graduation ceremony in a very colourful and very formal event. Almost daily since that momentuous day, I have wondered what kind of gift Sampi would be to the world. I have prayed and continue to pray that she turns out as the heavenly Father would be pleased she did.
Wow I got so carried away that I almost forgot to apologize and explain my absence and failure to update this Diary since late last year. With Facebook, Twitter and Skype added to the time consuming responsibility of quality fatherhood, the Diary took a hit. I found myself promising and failing many times over to get back here and update you my readers. Today therefore is a gift that I promised to share.
So much has happened since the last time I was here. Danju's basketball tournaments; Papa's Football team, the Colts had played the Edmonton Chargers in the Zonal finals. The Chargers went on to win the Provincial trophy beating the champions of Calgary. The track meets among junior high schools, Danju's graduation from junior high, Sampi's bikeathon at Bellerose Composite High-a highly successful fundraiser over a 3day period, my two trips to motherland to keep my cherished networks alive and to explore opportunities for contributing to the edification of the Nigerian renaissance etc. And now Sampi's grad. Phew! It has been as exciting and interesting as it has been challenging at times, depressing at other times and in all cases, thought provoking. While I have hardly made any new friends in St. Albert I thank God for the friends I have made both online and during my trips to Nigeria in recent times. I was introduced to one such acquaintance in 2008 during what I have termed my short tour of near voluntary duty in motherland. He has since become a friend and no longer just an aquaintance. You are a gift Doctor Joe of 'j-wood' in VGC for graciously allowing me free access to and accomodation in your home during my visits to motherland in December last year and May this year respectively. There are a couple of other 'gifts' that I am grateful for who due to space constraints cannot me individually mentioned here. I thank them for being my chauffer, cook and sounding board at different times, roles played without a single complaint. What gift would life be without sincere friends. Everyday is indeed a gift and as I count my gifts and my blessings I am the more humbled by how undeserving I may be for a lot of them. In closing tonight, I thank you Lord for all the gifts and blessings bestowed on me and my family and my wish is that everyone receives as I have and continue to receive. Good night people, the Diary is here again. Read, enjoy and comment as the spirit moves you.

Youthful Exuberance or Pure Criminality

It’s been a potpourri of sorts in recent weeks and I will try and get in as much as my brain (which is no more as trust worthy as it used to be back in the day) would recollect.
A few days ago, we stayed glued to the TV networks and surfed online while the International Olympic Committee holed up in Copenhagen, Denmark as politicians, technocrats, veteran athletes, investors and more, lobbied, campaigned, negotiated and ‘traded horses’ as Chicago, Tokyo, Madrid and Rio de Janeiro battled to be named the host city for the 2016 summer Olympic games.
Rio beat out the other (some would say equally fit) cities for the prize; and so come 2016, the world would converge for the first Olympic games in South America; in Rio de Janeiro. A city famous for its natural settings, its carnival celebrations, samba and other music, and hotel-lined tourist beaches, such as Copacabana for the summer Olympic games. If you are wondering what this has to do with my blog, I’d say hold your horses. A few sour grapes have come up wondering why Rio with its well documented accounts of crime and ‘street children’ got the nod. To that I ask which of the contesting cities is crime free? Definitely not Chicago which just last week witnessed the beating death of a 16 year old boy in broad daylight on the way home from school by wait for it – youths of the same age range. Derion Albert was not felled by a stray bullet but literally clubbed to death by other young fellows wielding baseball bats and (as captured on cell phone videos ) 2inches X 4inches wooden planks. Let’s stop for a second and put this in perspective. The chilling savage encounter was recorded by teenagers and we are yet to see any evidence of any of the witnesses intervening to stop the mob as they carried out this dastardly act. I have children in the same age range as Derion and I have looked at my Sampi, Danju and Papa since then wondering if I am doing all that can be done to ensure they never, I repeat, never fall foul of such heinous crime. Have we all suddenly become monsters without the proverbial milk of human kindness? Are we as parents raising murderers and miscreants under our roofs? Please don’t tell me it’s an American problem. There are enough stories to show the issue of misguided teenagers is assuming epidemic proportions globally. We hear of 13 year old fathers in the UK. Kids who are barely out of their diapers becoming parents themselves. Teenage pregnancies in every neighbourhood and in every economic stratum. Don’t get me wrong, I am aware of the impact of various negatives and the wrong side of technology but where are parents and parenthood in all of this? Have we all become absentees and are blinded by the rush for ‘gold’. I was speaking with the principal of a recognized model school in Hartford, USA, and he talked of a chorus to get men back in the homes. Isn’t it a mark of crass selfishness to engage in activities that will result in the arrival of a child knowing well ahead of time that you were ill prepared in all parameters to meet your obligations and to raise that child right. Let us love and take adequate care of our kids please. I see this as an obligation. If you were wondering what my musings about the Olympic games have to do with this blog, I hope I have not failed you. As I ponder where the family unit is heading, I am jolted by the carnage wrecked by the tsunami of last week in Samoa, American Samoa and Indonesia. As if that was not enough in a week of potpourri of events, we are told of mudslides in Sicily, Italy. Again I try to get my head round the loss of young lives and once again I look at my Sampi, Danju and Papa. God please protect them and give us parents the wisdom to do what is right and to raise our children right. Danju has an indoor volleyball practice at 7pm tonight and I need to get ready to drive him there. So thanks again for spending your time catching up with the Diary of a loving daddy, and come back soon

Here we go Again?

I guess if you are like most adults, there must be times when you wonder whether life doesn’t go in circles and cycles. God bless the French who have just two words for that feeling – Déjà vu?
As my family and I continue to settle in our new community, some activities are becoming routine even if not boring. Some would argue that the repetitive activities lead to some order while other free-spirited souls would prefer a different menu.
Since our last ‘chat’, Danju has completed his volleyball tryouts and made the school team. Now that has meant practice after school three days in each week and weekend round robin tournaments out-of-town. Two weekends ago it was Stony Plain and on Sunday last week it was at the University of Alberta campus in Edmonton. The tournament began at 11am, which meant that we had to go for Mass on Saturday evening or we’d have been in a deficit in that department of Mass attendance.
To make the 11am coin toss at the U-of-A tournament, I had to rush Danju out of bed early on Sunday, a fairly uncomfortable assignment because the previous evening was loaded with Mass and buffet dinner at Beijing House restaurant to celebrate (albeit belatedly) Sampi’s 17th birthday which fell on weekday.

So I did drop off Danju for his tournament and rushed home to take Papa to the ultra modern football turf at Riel Park in St. Albert for his game against the Millwood Grizzlies. This was Papa’s second game for his new team – St.Albert Colts. The coach uses him in two positions – punt return and running back. Does this remind you of the Cincinnati Bengals Ocho cinco 85? The game went well and Papa’s team won. Papa took a ding to the head in his 30 yards touchdown run and had to seat out the second half as a precaution. He’s OK though and looks forward to this Sunday’s game in Sherwood against the Sherwood Raiders.


Today is Thursday and it’s Air Cadet night at the Community hall in downtown St.Albert. The children registered for this last week and we haven’t stopped talking about the huge opportunities that becoming air cadets in Canada presents the children for leadership training, obtaining air glider and light aircraft pilot licenses, learning to play different musical instruments, mastery in the use of air rifles etc. And top these with university scholarship offers and getting paid during summer camps; all at no financial costs whatsoever for us parents. Not bad at all if you ask me.

By the way, managing all these activities calls for effective time management because schoolwork doesn’t take a break and neither do the chores and responsibilities at home.

Such is life really. We all have various stakeholders and obligations and juggle all these we must if we are to maintain a good balance in our lives. Did I start this by saying déjà vu? Yes indeed. Here we go again! Thanks for keeping a date with us; and your time is appreciated.

St Albert it is.

It’s been one week since Sampi, Danju and Papa went back to their respective schools in our new location. I have had to pinch myself a few times to remind me that this is St. Albert. You know I am driving along and then I see a building that my poor brain registers as unfamiliar and I go “… has this always been here or…” then I recollect that this is not Oakville but my new home for the past one month – serene St. Albert, a quiet mini town of about forty thousand residents where I have been told a few times that everyone seems to know of everyone. This is no truer than the Catholic Parish on Vital Avenue where Sampi, Danju, Papa and yours sincerely are the only spice to the colouration. The children and I were talking last Sunday after Mass and we say this may be a golden opportunity to expand the horizon and positively shift the paradigm for some members of our Parish whose only contact with the world outside Alberta is what the ‘boob tube’ had fed them all this while. And we all know some of this, tends to be embellished for pure ratings anyway.

So to get ready for back to school, the family- Papa, Danju, Sampi, Siya and I went mini golfing last weekend. It was lovely goofing around on the course for two hours plus and we capped the day with dinner at the Earls.

We got home later and the children picked out (as if they had not done it many times before) what to wear for the first day of school. This was special though because it was the first day in new schools in a new town. I must say (even if it is with a little bias), that they looked very nice as they stepped out that Monday morning in August. Danju and Papa rode on the school bus and I dropped of Sampi all through the week. This changes from next week as Sampi finally got a seat on the bus to her school.

The children have made a few acquaintances at school and Siya and I have also gone to meet their homeroom teachers and be introduced.
There have been the odd homework and also pictures day at school.
Today is the first weekend since the children went back to school and we have all been basically in doors at home except for when Siya and I drove to her job to kick off a seminar she has for new intakes. We had planned to scoot over to the gym at Servus Place but changed our minds on the way back from Edmonton and headed home. Sampi, Danju and Papa have taken today as a rest day because Monday is a holiday and it just doesn’t feel wrong that all they have done is play computer games, eat and or get on the lap tops. I guess we have to cut them some slack some time and why not do so today especially after staying up into the wee hours of the morning yesterday watching movies as part of the family night.Well tomorrow is Sunday and to Mass we must go so I’d sign off the diary at this time.

BIG Things Can Come In Most Unexpected and Often Small Packages

There are days you feel so out of sorts that all you want to do is lie in bed and try to clear the 'cobwebs' in your head and on your mind. Today was shaping to be like one such day with a down in the dumps feeling until my peace was stirred by a long distance call from a client who needed my intervention with his situation. I dragged my frame out of bed and turned my laptop out of it's sleeper mode and my inbox had its fair dose of unwanted emails which I promptly deleted.
There was a forwarded email from one of my sisters back home that I am thankful I saw because it is turning out to be one of the most profound pieces I have read in a while and I do read quite a lot - from the humdrum to the inspiring, from the ordinary to the magnificent, I read all that I can find.
It was a story by Mac Anderson, Founder -Simple Truths about a young man who was born with physical limitations of sight and mobility but who transcended those limitations and had become a musical virtuoso.
It wasn't just that he overcame his difference of ability but his attitude was simple yet infectious. In his moment of eternal adversity, the young man did not dissipate energy bemoaning his fate but elected instead to see the glass as half full instead of half empty and counted his blessings.
Part of the moral lesson from this story is that "Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass...it's about learning how to dance in the rain!"
In a very capitalist world, this becomes even more topical. In the rush of everyday life, we often fail to stop and smell the roses. If we are not complaining about how cold it gets in the winter (as if we did not know it was going to get cold), we are complaining about how hot and humid the summer feels. We remark that the traffic was heavy instead of being grateful that we have vehicles and that we got home safely.
It was Sarah Breathnach who is reported as saying that "when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present....we experience heaven on earth."
Life is a journey not a destination and at whatever spot of that journey you are on, there are tons of people who would give anything to be in your place.
So as I step out to dance in the rain, I am grateful in the realization that life changing insights can come from the most unexpected of places and in this case, an innocuous email from my sister.

IT'S A BOY!!

Before you start wondering what's up with me, the above caption was exactly the message posted on the door of my office in Colgate Palmolive Africa -Middle East Division some twelve years ago.
My young family at that time (Siya, Sampi and Danju) was staying in Dallas and old ranger was in Nigeria working hard to bring home the ham. Talk of challenges we sometimes go through in trying to provide for our families.
So as I walked through the front office that eventful morning in Lagos, I was greeted with a lot more smiles than was the usual - a sign that something great was ahead of me. The lady in charge of the front office and the mail delivery personnel (cell phones were a status symbol at that time in Nigeria and a lot of official communication was delivered by hand by these delivery personnel, God bless their kind hearts) did well to hold back from breaking the news to me.

I matched briskly to my door and there it was posted in black ink on a white sheet of paper " It's a boy!". The pleasant surprise mixed with some other emotions that words can hardly describe enveloped me and when I regained my composure, Jacqueline (Atul's PA at that time) confirmed getting the call from my sister Flo.
Fast forward 12 years and that baby whom God blessed us with is now a young man with so much potential. That young man is Papa, the youngest of my three angels about whom a lot has been written in earlier notes in the Diary of a Loving Daddy.
We are staying awake to usher in July 28 with a special family prayer of thanksgiving for our many blessings.
For all you who will get to read today's blog, we request that you say a prayer for Papa and all other kids the world over that they grow up in the light of God to be good citizens of their respective communities.
Happy Birthday Papa.

NEW BEGINNINGS IN WILD ROSE COUNTY

I woke up this morning to the preaching of Joel Osteen (the well liked and widely listened-to pastor of lake wood church in Houston Texas) and today’s message was about dreams and opportunities and it seemed appropriate for the caption of today’s blog.
So much has happened since the last posting on the Diary – arguably the greatest music entertainer of our generation MJ passed on and left in his wake a lot of controversies which seem like a mirror image of the excitement that his life on the stage and out of it was; the world celebrated the 40th anniversary of humans landing on the moon, a small step for man and a giant leap for mankind; my son Papa played his last game in a Renegades jersey as an atom running back; my family stopped calling Oakville home and much more.
Last week my family and I began a new life in Wild Rose county, some four hours away by air from Oakville, a beautiful suburb that had been our home for the past 5+ years and one we had thought was our final place of reside. Such is life. Man proposes and God disposes. So it’s a new beginning for us. We therefore claim the message in Joel Osteen’s sermon of today and will rise and shine.
Expect more from the Diary.

Dedication to Michael Jackson

Hold meLike the river jordan
And I will then say to theeYou are my friend
Carry meLike you are my brother
Love me like a mother
Will you be there?

Weary
Tell me will you hold me
When wrong, will you skold me
When lost will you find me?

But they told me
A man should be faithful
And walk when not able
And fight till the end
But Im only human

Everyones taking control of me
Seems that the world's
Got a role for me
Im so confused
Will you show to me
Youll be there for me
And care enough to bear me(lead me)
(lay your head lowly)
(softly then boldly)
(carry me there)
(hold me)
(love me and feed me)
(kiss me and free me)
(I will feel blessed)
(carry)(carry me boldly)
(lift me up slowly)
(carry me there)(save me)
(heal me and bathe me)
(softly you say to me)(I will be there)
(lift me)(lift me up slowly)
(carry me boldly)
(show me you care)
(hold me)(lay your head lowly)
(softly then boldly)(carry me there)
(need me)(love me and feed me)
(kiss me and free me)(I will feel blessed)
(spoken)
In our darkest hour
In my deepest despair
Will you still care?
Will you be there?
In my trials
And my tripulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow
Ill never let you part
For youre always in my heart.

Reflections

I have often wondered about homelessness and last week it assumed a new meaning for me. Before you start wondering where all this is leading to, I would ask what image comes to your mind when you hear some one is homeless (without a home).
Well, from July 9 to August 7 this year, my family and I will technically be without a home of our own- i.e. homeless. Please don’t panic! The reason is that we would be closing the sale of our current home on July 8 and the house we are buying will only be available for us to take possession of no earlier than August 7.
So are we going to be sleeping in our nap sacks on the streets in a cold strange city and neighbourhood? Not quite. Are we going to be having our shower in the open? That would have been very eco-friendly even though it would be aesthetically offensive and distasteful. Before your mind starts going on a creative excursion,none of the above is about to happen. While we would be without our own home, we would be hosing down a suite in a luxury furnished apartment for the period of our ‘homelessness’ until the current owners our new home ship out East (they are a military family- protectors of our country) and the head of the family having done two tours in Afghanistan, the least we can do at this point is be patient. Yes we will.
The sermon (what really is the difference between a sermon and a homily?) at Mass on Sunday centred on Corpus Christi; and at some point, the reverend father reminded us that the child is a father to the man. Does this sound confusing and somewhat convoluted? He went on to say the teenager you see today is a product of the the child you invested in during his young formative years. So when you are wondering ( as many adults are wont to do) about certain behaviours of the modern day teenager, the answer is not too far off. It is the yield of the investment made years ago when he was a kid.
That then brings me to the ‘trend’ I see increasingly as we all chase after financial empowerment ; that of absentee parenting. We all seem caught up with capitalist pursuits (please don’t get me wrong, capitalism is not bad in itself) that we under perform in the other and equally important arena of parenting and child mentoring. The risk I see here is that like a friend of mine in Nigeria remarked, we become only sources of financial comfort to our children and a lot less of emotional and physical support and relevance. It is little wonder therefore why when our children no longer look up to us for financial succour, we pale in our importance in their lives.
I am continuing to reflect on this. Perhaps you are too. All in all, family /work balance is tough to achieve in an increasingly capitalist world.
I would like to end on a high. I promised to report on Papa’s track meet at the Regional finals of Thursday last week.
He ran to instruction - exploding right off the blocks and with high knee actions and aerodynamic arm swings, led the pack right to the end. I thought he had pulled it off but it was adjudged a photo finish and he was given a silver medal. His timing was an improvement on the Monday city race so we are OK. Even more worthy of note was that the night before the race, we had to ice his ankle and had him wearing his ankle brace during the race. For all those who were rooting for him, I say thanks a lot. We love you.

Tomorrow, Danju has his school’s soccer tournament and it will be four soccer games in one day starting at 8am. Holy cow! How could one fit in four soccer games between 8am and 4pm on the same day and expect optimal output. Oh I forgot, we are a hockey nation and soccer is more like an after thought. Oh Canada…

Good night friends of the Diary of a Loving Daddy. We shall meet again.

From South to the North and back

It was a busy weekend for the ‘old ranger’. I was airborne aboard the Air Canada big bird on Thursday for a four-hour flight to the ‘Wild Rose Country’. It was as if the weather had my name written on it. I stepped out of the airplane and was hit by the cold whiff. The driver of the shuttle van , a recent immigrant from Dubai wondered why I was relocating from the near tropical weather of Oakville to the extreme cold winter of the North. My Siya meanwhile had called to find out how the flight was and soon was welcoming me and introducing me to colleagues at NorQuest College. A quick lunch later at an East Indian restaurant – nice buffet, and it was time to go see all the homes that had been scheduled for my viewing. See I did and Siya’s selection, I ratified. I was also shown the proposed schools for Sampi, Danju and Papa.
The next day I was largely home alone and working the phones negotiating mortgage terms with lenders- do I port my existing mortgage with all the attendant benefits or should we leverage our awesome credit score get a fresh clean mortgage. Meanwhile the weather refused to let up and the sun seemed to be in conspiracy with the cold to do me in. When life gives you lemons, you should not sit and brood, you get up and make lemonade. There is after all an upside to cold weather. Thanks be to God for duvets, comforters, fireplaces and …
Saturday was a nice mix of cold and sunshine. It’s in Canada that the sun can be shinning brightest and yet the cold will be tugging at your every fabric at the same time. You need to experience this to believe it. I did not fly 4 hours from Ontario to come and stay in indoors all through my visit here so I braved it and went with Omodu (an old buddy of mine dating back to when men were boys) and Siya to West Ed. Mall. I will be doing the readers of this Diary a disservice if I fail to mention that the West Edmonton mall is the biggest mall in the whole of North America. It covers 48 city blocks i.e. the size of 115 football fields. Now that is some humongous mall by any stretch of the imagination. It has over 50 entrances.
My flight back on Sunday arrived Toronto at about midnight and my angels were in ‘snooze land’ when I let myself into our home. I kissed each of them ( not that they would know but more for me as I’d missed them since Thursday).
If you remember, I had mentioned that Papa had his track meet scheduled for Monday which was why I had to be back by Sunday. The meet did hold and it was good to see my little guy ( he would kill me if he reads this because he hates to be called little guy) decked in his school track jersey and the lovely spike shoes with the spikes removed. His relay team was a bit weak and they came in third but; when it came to his specialty – 100 meters, he was in his elements. He literally burnt the tracks in the qualifying heats. The city finals was a close race and he was beaten at the tape by Christian -the contestant from St Bernadette.
The Regional Finals is on Thursday and he will race Christian and the other top two sprinters from the other cities. We will continue to ice his ankle which is yet to fully heal from the football game of last week and wish him the best on Thursday. Old ranger will be there and will bring you reports after the race.
Meanwhile, tomorrow is another football practice and his team needs him, so he will be on duty in his other role as a running back.
Stay ‘tuned’ in. Good night.