Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Daddy, I Love You Die!

10 11 Things My Daddy Is Good At:

1.  Being funny. No one has made me laugh like him.  He has a very active imagination like me. Two of us are usually the only ones who can see the striking resemblance between a person and a thing --- like that woman who looks like a maggot. Don't ask.

2.  Being silly.  When we had three Ngozis in my house, my dad always made it a point to call out their name for no reason, knowing that they would all assemble at his presence. And when they get there, he'll burst out laughing. There was also that time we had a cement man in our house. He was 'plastering' the fence. Dad went and tickled his legs. Poor man almost fell off the ladder. It didn't help that a few minutes before that, we had all just discussed the increase of snakes in the area.

3.  Stealing meat from the pot.  My daddy is the Captain General of this. No one else can do it like him. He is second to none. Somehow, no one ever sees or hears him sneaking into the kitchen. The only proof of his mischievous act is the droplets of oil on the floor and his unusually shiny lips and chin.

4.  Eating meat.  My mother calls him kura.  I assume that this must be some kind of meat-eating animal. My daddy will eat any meat. I have seen so many types of bush meats, some I did not even know were edible.  His plate of soup usually has more meats and less soup, unlike mine which is always the opposite.

5.  Being mischievous.  Apart from tickling the cement man and making him almost fall off the ladder, dad is good at playing pranks. That was how he convinced Uncle Simon (dad's younger brother) that he - Uncle Simon - did not like meat. How can someone convince you that you don't like meat? This may have happened long before I was conceived, but dad hasn't changed much.

6.  He's playful.  He lets me paint his face.  To make it even funnier, we do it on one side of his face, which makes him look strange.  His employees are often too confused and/or scared to admit that their boss looks like a clown. It never gets old seeing the looks on their faces.

7.  He's humble.  One of the things I love and admire so much about him is his humility.  He would sit, talk, and laugh with dirty mechanics, his nursing assistants, garbage disposers, and the likes. Not once have I seen or heard him belittling someone because of what he has or does not have.

8.  He's generous.  Daddy will give and give freely.  When it comes to giving, daddy never says no. He'll give whatever we ask of him, however we ask. He may complain while giving it and say that we are chopping his money, but what is family for --- if not to chop your money?

9.  He loses things.  Every time mom and I travel, we have to make spare keys because there is no doubt that the keys we are handing to dad will not live happily or safely ever after.  He will lose them, perhaps the same day.  Usually, he'll leave them on his car and drive off.  That's the story most times.

10.  He sucks at cooking.  Eating, he can eat.  There are many other things my daddy can do, too.  Cooking, however, is not one of them.  Ever since the burnt stew, balled akamu (pap), and raw oatmeal incidents, I have learned not to eat anything my daddy cooks.

11.  He's perpetually late.  With him, there's no such thing as being there a little late. There's definitely no such thing as being there on time. Even when he's the chairman of the occasion,. we always come walking in like we own the place., Ogbuefi Nnanyelugo is always late. 


Happy Father's Day, Daddy.

(And Happy Father's Day to all fathers, current and future. May you live long to leave memorable imprints on your children's lives).  

Amen.

Sunday, April 04, 2010

Oh, Happy Day!!

April fourth = Dad's birthday.

This April 4th period wasn't different from the April 4th period last year.  On Friday, April 2nd, mom and dad argued about dad's birthday.

Mom: Your birthday is even coming up sef.

Dad: Whose birthday?

Mom: Yours

Dad: Oh, yes! It's today

Mom: No, it's on the 4th.

Dad: No, it's today.

Mom: Noooo, your birthday is on the 4th of April.

Dad: Oohhh, you're right.  It's on the 4th oh!

Every year, we go through this.  The man never remembers his birthday.  I'm starting to believe that he doesn't even know how old he is.  How does one forget his own birthday?  Mine is on the 14th of January.  From the 15th of January, I am already planning all the gifts I intend to receive for the next birthday.  This year, I don't have a long post like I did last year

Happy birthday, daddy.  I love you more than I can ever tell or show.  I thank God for His obvious hands on your life.  I thank God for preserving you till today, and I pray He continues to preserve you and that He blesses you with health, long life, and prosperity.  Amen.

Happy Easter everyone.  Christ is risen.

Friday, August 28, 2009

The Silly Things We Do (5)

No matter how hard I try not to laugh, I feel like there is always something funny going on in my life. Somehow, I find myself surrounded by people that say and do funny things - even when they don't mean to. Apart from my dad, only one other man has made me laugh till I have tears in my eyes. But today's post is about my dad.

My mother enjoys baking. She's one of those women who love baking cakes, frying chin-chins, bons, and puff-puff, and baking meat-pies. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less about baking and all that ish (but I do love eating them all, of course). Why suffer to bake stuff when I can just buy them?

But I think my dislike/disinterest in baking and frying snacks is my dad's fault. Yes, dad's fault. It all happened several years ago in Nigeria. I was about 12 or 13. I was curious about baking a cake - even though I had no recipe whatsoever. I pretty much knew or thought I knew everything that went into the cake (flour, eggs, milk, sugar, butter, nutmeg, can't remember what else), but I didn't know in what particular order it was supposed to go in. Did it matter? Anyway, mom won't let me use her oven. She did not want me to waste her gas.

So what did I do? After mixing my cake, I poured it into a metal bowl, and then, I placed the metal bowl in a boiling pot of hot water. It was kind of like making moi moi. I don't know if that cake still qualifies as having been baked. Maybe it was cooked. Or boiled. Anything but baked. It was not baked.

Where does dad come in? Well, dad was my boyfriend, you know. I used to pet him like he was my man or something. I used to clip his nails, clean out his ear wax, and wash his clothes. Whenever he fell asleep on the couch, I was there to put a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body. Dad said I would make a great wife. [Hey, his words not mine.. but I don't disagree, of course. Hehe]. So that day, I could not wait to have my boyfriend (dad) taste my cake - a cake I loved by the way.

Dad sat at the table, and I served him a psychedelic slice of cooked cake. Mom, my cousin Nachi, the help Ngozi, and I were all gathered around dad, waiting for his judgment. It was as if my heart was in my hands. I could not wait to hear the verdict. Dad took a bite, churned, swallowed, took another bite, churned, and swallowed again.

Then while still holding the cake in his hand, he said, "This is nothing but akpu and sugar..." After which the entire family - except me - fell out laughing.

...And there, my friends, is the reason why I don't bake! Yes, that's my story, and yes, I am sticking to it!

The Silly Things We Do (1)

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Yay To The Daddies!

It's Father's Day today.

I'm not quite sure what to say about my Daddy. I feel like I have said most things. The rest, I just don't know how to say. I love the man to bits. I don't think he can ever do me wrong. Mom believes I always take my Dad's side. I beg to defer. But if it's true, then I am not surprised.

Dad has made so many mistakes - most of which he will never admit. But I know. And I think he knows that I know. In spite of all his mistakes, he's still my boo. He says and does the darndest things. From the outside looking in, one would conclude his wife is the luckiest woman on earth. Wonder what Mom has to say about that. Knowing my Mom, her sentence will start something like, "Luckiest?? Hmm. Let me tell you what that man did to me in 1979...." 1979 is just a random year I picked, but if you probe Mom enough, I'm sure she'll remember something he did.

I have big dreams for my Father. I'd love to help him build another clinic in a different State. I think he's tired of Plateau State. Too many Christian/Muslim wars. Used to be a peaceful State - "The State of peace and tourism..." Wonder if they still have the same punchline. I dream of having enough money to fly him somewhere for a vacation. Since he returned from Russia decades ago, the man has not left the country again. I can't wait to have him walk me down the aisle (and no, I am not yet engaged); I bet he'll say something silly that'll have me in stitches while I'm walking.

Been a while since we played WHOT card game. He always puts some money down for whoever wins. I'm never be too old to spend his money. I really miss rubbing his bald head. It's so bald and smooth that it looks like hair never even grew there. I miss rubbing his big belly. Mom calls is "afo beer" (beer gut). Of course, he disagrees.

So on this Father's Day, I wish Dad a day of unspeakable blessings and favors from God. May his health be completely restored. May he be blessed with long life and prosperity. May he be blessed with wisdom and understanding. May he remain my funny man. I wish all the fathers and fathers-to-be a very happy Father's day. Most especially, I wish Mr. Shoe's Dad & Grandad a very happy Father's day. To them, I say, "chop knuckle for bringing up such a wonderful son/grandson." In short, I throway serious yansh for them. Dem no fall my hand @ allll.

Oh. Speaking of Mr. Shoes, I wish him a very, very happy Father's day (no, he's not yet a father, and no, I am not pregnant. Thank you very much). I wish him long life and prosperity. I pray he is blessed with children that will love, honor, and adore him. I pray he'll be a godly father - the kind God wants all his children to be. I pray he meets success concerning everything and everyone in his life. I pray he is blessed and favored in all areas of his life. Amen.

For all of you who think you are not yet fathers, don't be too sure. You'll be surprised what a DNA test will reveal. Chop clean mouth no dey reign again ooo.

Happy fathering.

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* June 23rd 2009 6PM (U.S. Eastern), 11PM (Naija time) - Premiere Date - Topic: Whose Bill Is It Anyway? E-mail radio@verastic.com or text 443-934-9039 with your views/date stories.

* July 2nd 2009 10AM (U.S. Eastern), 3PM (Naija time) - 2nd episode - Topic: Tact (Or Lack Of It). E-mail radio@verastic.com or text 443-934-9039 with your views/tact stories. This topic is about how we don't have a lot of tact in the things we say. I'm sure most of us have experienced our tactlessness.

Please visit the radio site to set up reminders for the shows. Call/text/e-mail if you have any questions.

Be blessed!

P.S. I updated my picture site with pictures of Chidi (my boyfriend, Busola's son). Yeah, it only took me 6 months. Oops.

P.P.S. Blogger don mess up! My blog roll has disappeared. What the frack?? Great. Just what I need right now... :@ (angry face)

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Today is my daddy's birthday.

I want to type a long poetic, literary post, full of twists and turns, full of enigmatic sentences that have conspicuous meanings.  What an oxymoron, I know.  I want to write an epistle about my daddy and talk about how he is a tall Iroko tree in the forest, but you see, daddy isn't tall.... or slender.  He's about 5'10, I suppose.  And he has a belly that has been pregnant for as long as I can remember.  Rumor (aka my mother) has it that the pregnancy is as a result of the bottles of Gulder he used to down.  Who knows really?  Daddy swears he doesn't have a big tummy.  He must see Will Smith's abs when he looks @ himself in the mirror.  But who am I to judge?

I haven't said happy birthday to him yet, but when I do, I know how the conversation will go.  It's the same thing each year.
 
Me: Happy birthday, dad!
 
Dad: *Surprised* Oh, nne, you're right oo!  Today is April 4th.  I almost forgot.
 
Me: You didn't almost forget.  You forgot.
 
Dad: Well...
 
Me: Well, nothing.  Happy birthday.  (I'd like to seal it with a kiss on his shiny head, a place where hair once used to reside.  It is now smoother than his face, and there is no evidence (other than old pictures) that hair once grew there.  No evidence that that once used to be a fertile ground.  Oh, baldness, what have you done to my daddy?  On the positive side, when the sun shines on that part of his head, it beams.  You should see it after I rub vaseline on it.  It's as clear as a mirror, I tell you.)
 
Yeap.  That's pretty much how the conversation will go.  He forgets his birthday every year.  I don't know what kind of person forgets his own birthday.  I look very much like my dad, and in some ways we are alike, but when it comes to birthdays and dates in general, we couldn't be more different.  I take my birthday very seriously; how can I ever forget January 14th?  I am even thinking about how to make January 14th a global holiday.  Apart from January 14th, I spend every other day of the year thinking about January 14th.  But this post shouldn't be about me...

So here's to wishing my daddy - father of Vera & husband of Mama Vera - a very, very happy birthday.

* Sometimes I think my father chose the wrong profession (medicine); maybe he should have been a comedian instead.  He really is a very funny man.  Besides, being a comedian would have saved my butt countless unwaranted and unwanted injections.  Yes, I may have been ill, but I would have gladly swallowed - even chewed - a carton of pills before taking one injection.

* My daddy, the one and only Ogbuefi Nnanyelugo of my life.  Per the title, funny enough, he's never killed a cow oo... at least none that I know of.  I remember plenty of goats - especially that one goat that escaped from my compound.  Dad was really vexed.  We were supposed to use that goat for Easter.  But who can blame the goat?  I'd have run too if I were him.  Funniest part was when we went to the nearby market to look for the goat.  Of course, it wasn't hard spotting our brown goat - amongst thousands of other brown goats.  Dad tried to guess our goat by looking at the eyes of the goats in the market.  Apparently, our goat would have recognized him; it would have been obvious in the goat's eyes.  Yeah, sure!  Needless to say, we went without a goat that Easter.  That was his punishment to us for losing his goat.  I couldn't have cared less.  I hated goat meat.

* My father, the man who farts out loud and forces us to hail him, "Ogbuefi Nnanyelugo!!"  The loudness of the fart wasn't even the problem for me; it could have been confused as the sound effect of a loud pot of boiling soup (some loud soup it woulda been though).  The problem was the stench of the fart.  I don't know what that man ate, but it was doing him something wicked.

* My father, the man who gets confused when he's talking to his employees and speaks all the languages in one sentence: English, Igbo, Hausa, & Russian.  The look on the employee's face is always priceless.

* My father, the man who ruined my chance to go home for one weekend when I was in boarding school.  I told him to come and talk to my Principal, a very strict Reverend Sister.  Dad was supposed to be meek and friendly.  Instead, when Sister Mary Patrick hinted hesitation in letting me leave for the weekend, dad told her she was very pompous and that it wasn't a very good look on a woman.  I obviously never did get to go home that weekend.

* My father, the man who comes home on Saturday night, heads straight for the kitchen, steals a big piece of meat, goes back to the bedroom, eats it and hides the bones under the bed.  When asked if he ate a piece of meat, he denies it squarly.  Never mind the obvious shiny lips he has and even the drop of oil stain on his shirt.  Pray, do tell, where did the oil come from?  It's a wonder we never had rats - considering all the meat bones that were under the bed.

* My father, the man who proudly sucked his mother's breast until she died.  She died after I was born, so she wasn't young.  He must have been sucking powdered milk.  If one needs a 'human subject" to study for the "effects of sucking mother's breast till she becomes a grandmother," I think my daddy would be a perfect candidate.

* My father, the only man I know of who puts his bread & egg in the freezer because it's too hot.  How hot can bread be?

Oh, happy birthday, daddy!!  May God continue to keep you alive and well.  May you never lose your sense of humor.   May you change from your mischievous ways of making us smell your fart.  Seriously... so not cool.  May you continue to be you (yes, I realize it means you'll continue farting for our inhaling pleasure).  Yippee ... aren't we lucky?  *rolling eyes*

Thursday, January 01, 2009

All Things Are New...

2 Cor 5:17 says, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!"

Lovely readers of Verastically Livin,' please excuse me while I get a lil serious. Yes, I know you're not quite used to this. But contrary to popular belief, Vera can be serious oooo.... ehen. This is a scheduled post. At the time it appears on my blog, I'll be in church, worshipping. What better way to bring in the New Year? Below is my public letter to God. Since everyone is on the internet these days; I figured God must be browsing Verastic.com every now & then, ey? [Yes, I'm still being serious].

*************** Clearing Throat*******************

Dear God,

2008 was something else. Honestly, I still do not know if I should call this a good or a bad year. Most times, it feels lukewarm. The highlight was the day I rededicated my life back to You. I can honestly say that life has not been the same since then. Unfortunately, since my rededication, I have done some things, said some things, and thought some things - all of which I should not have. But I have sought Your face after every fall. And I have hoped and believed that You have forgiven me.

I am sorry, Lord for everything I ever did to hurt Your feelings - and boy, do I have a long list of that. In retrospect, I realize just how very foolish I was. If I could, I would go back in time and undo so many things. Unsay so many words. And unthink so many thoughts. But I cannot. Honestly, what hurts most is the things that I have done. All those times I thought I was smart and grown, I realize now that I was foolish...and a mere baby before You.

I have been waiting anxiously - almost impatiently - for 2008 to end because the thought of it brings so much pain and sadness to my heart. You know these things, Lord. But I am hopeful that 2009 will be better. Ironically, the blessings and prayers I received in 2008 are the reasons I believe that 2009 will be better.

I am grateful for everything You did for me in 2008. For every time You were there to wipe my tears, console me, keep me company, guard me, guide me, listen to me, and even laugh with me, I am grateful. For every time You made a way for me and turned my mountain into an invisible pebble, I am grateful. I am grateful for the births (especially that of Busola's baby, Chidi and my cousin in Nigeria whose name I shamefully do not know), and even though I do not understand why I should be, I am also grateful for the deaths too.

I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my health. I am grateful that You preserved me. I know that not everyone I started the year with is here today, but You oh God, have preserved me. And I have done nothing to deserve this. I am grateful for the life of the man that I am so in love with - my father. You cleansed him of that liver malfunction, God. When I asked him what would happen if it was not taken care of and he answered - like a true doctor - precisely, concisely, and a little too bluntly, "Ultimately, death," I thought my life was over. But my dad promised he was not going to die; he said he would live for me. I cried to You, and You, oh God restored his life. [Note to Funmi & Busola: Sorry I did not tell you about my dad's condition. It was just too much to talk about.]

I am grateful for my mom's life. Sometimes, I think of all she has gone thru on my behalf and I cannot help but break down and cry. I only hope to one day be able to spoil her the way I know she'd love to be spoilt: by giving her a few grand-children and then sending them all on vacation to Russia, so that I and my hubby can have some free time to frolic in the sun and possibly make some new babies. [Yes, I'm still being serious]. She is the best mother a girl could have ever prayed for. I trust You, Lord. I trust You to give me the opportunity to make her smile a smile that her face cannot contain.

So for 2009, oh God, I take all my troubles and I hand them over to You. Everything that has been troubling me, I hand them to You because I am powerless. My worrying can only get me so far; it has gotten me as far as it can, and it has not gotten me anywhere. By the end of 2009, I will be back here to give the testimony. You know the one, Lord. I thank You in advance for the message I will receive today. I thank You for the blessings, for the favors, and for the new beginning. I thank You in advance for helping me to publish my book in 2009. I thank You in advance for everything. I just thank You, Father. In retrospect, 2008 was a good year. But 2009 will be better. It will be great. Say Amen for me.


Happy New Year everyone!!! May 2009 bring you all of your heart's desires according to God's will. Amen. I'll be back on Sunday, January 4th 2009.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Father Of Mine

It's not my Dad's birthday today, but I just feel like blogging about him. Let's say I want you to know a bit about the man whose loins I have made proud (eww). Maybe I'll blog about my mom next time.

In my XX years on earth, I still think my dad is the funniest man ever. He says and does the silliest things. He says & does things that really make me stay up late @ night & ponder about his sanity. Like...


When he farts (and I mean long, loud, stinky farts), he forces us (including my mom) to all hail him, "Ogbuefi!" I think that is the silliest thing ever. It's bad enough that you have farted; now you want me to praise you on top of it?

***He won't let us leave the room when he farts. We must inhale the bomb.

***He has an unnatural love for cashew nuts, and I think I love them just as much. Only thing is that I'm afraid of pimples.

***He's late for EVERYTHING. If he weren't his own boss, I'm sure he would have been fired for lateness.

***When I was in Naija, we used to go late to church for the dumbest things. Usually, it was because my dad was fascinated by the hens & cocks that were perambulating our compound. So instead of getting ready for church, he'd sit outside and watch them. The funny thing is, I became fascinated by them too. I used to just sit outside & watch them @ odd times.

***Dad would miss church sometimes and tell us to go ahead, claiming that he would stay home and pray the rosary instead. When we're leaving the house, dad would already be on his knees reciting the thing. When we come back almost two hours later, the man will still be in the same position - except this time his eyes will be red. But he'll claim he wasn't sleeping oh. It's just that he decided to pray the rosary more than once. Yeah, right! lol.

***He has a remarkable ability. He can tell the resemblance between a human being and almost anything. He told some lady that she looked like a maggot. Honestly, she really did look like a maggot. I have come to realize that people often look like weird things to me too. Like this very handsome guy friend of mine who looks like cabin biscuit. I also know someone who looks like a carrot. And I know this man who looks like a cat. But don't misunderstand me; they're not ugly @ all oh. They just look like other things to me.

***My dad always gets confused on those roundabout things on the road. He never goes around them once. He must go @ least twice.

***He's very, very careless. Every time we give him the keys to the house, he loses them. We stopped giving them to him.

***My dad swears that snails look like vajayjays. I don't eat snails, but the fact that he even said they look like vajayjays makes them even less appealing. Yuck!!! But he eats them oh. He eats anything.

***He's a meat lover. He says, 'the maggot in a fish is the meat, so eat them all.'

I could go on & on about this man, but how much time do you have? I look very much like my father, and we get along pretty darn well. He calls me, 'mummy' coz his mom has gone to a better place (I never met her). I think I blush when he calls me that. lol. Needless to say, I treat the man like my baby. When he falls asleep on the couch, I cover him up. I dust his shoes for him, I eat with him, I sit on his laps... I do everything. So anyway, maybe it's because of him I am 'weird.' I got my weird genes from him. He got them from his mother. He looks a lot like her. Her name was Susan. He was gonna name me Susan....but Vera happened.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

The Silly Things We Do (2)

A while ago, I put up the post of The Silly Things We Do (1). Now, I'm gonna write the second edition bout my daddy. Abeg share this laugh with me.

My father is a medical doctor, and his clinic is right across our house in Plateau State. He has a storage room in the house that is filled with medication et al. My father is never in a hurry to do anything...just like me. He'd wake up in the morning and start watching makosa music videos instead of going to work; a lot of times, his workers would have to call him and tell him that he has patients waiting 4 him.

On this day, my dad was taking his sweet time as usual, and then one of his patients decided to come to our house herself to tell my dad that she had been waiting 4 him. When she came, my dad was taking a shower, so she decided to wait in the living room. That day, it was only my dad, my cousin, and I that were home.

The woman decided to use the bathroom (not the one dad was taking a shower in). She did the number two, and it was stinking!!! She flushed the toilet, but damn!!! When dad came out of his bedroom, I told him that the woman was waiting 4 him in the living room. He went into the storage room to get some medication(s) or something like that, but he had to go past the bathroom that the woman used. So when he was passing, he was all like, "Hmmph! These children (me and my cousin), what did you people eat? This place stinks! We have a visitor, and you couldn't even have the decency of flushing the toilet after you. Hmmph!"

The man was all fanning his nose every time he had to pass that bathroom. He said it over and over that me and my cousin were nasty, etc, and we should stop eating junk. The man even had the nervesto go and apologise to the woman for the foul odor in the house. The woman didn't say anything back. What was she supposed to say - 'sorry, Doctor, it was me'? LOL

My cousin and I didn't even bother telling him it wasn't us that did it. We just let him run his mouth and stick his foot deeper down his throat. When he was done attempting to embarass me and my cousin, we finally decided to tell him. He was so shocked! And ashamed, of course, but I doubt if his shame was half as much as that woman's own. That's what she gets for shitting in the Doctor's house, LOL. She shoulda held her shit in the clinic, but she just had to come and stink up the house. LOL.

Boy oh boy...the good ol' days! I wouldn't mind a repeat of that event at all...as long as I'm not the person who polluted the house. But seriously, the foul odor of that woman's shit was lethal. It was literally lethal gas; in fact, I am surprised we didn't have to evacuate the house until further notice. Yeap, it was that bad.

Until later sha. Have a wonderful day!

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