bye bye to alarm clock

I remember when I discovered the snooze button of the alarm clock as a young boy. My uncle bought me the alarm clock as a Christmas present and I was so excited about the idea. It was early in the morning, and my alarm clock was going off. I didn’t want to get up and go to school, so I wondered if there was a way that I could silence the alarm for sometime so that I could get a little more rest. This would allow me just enough time to toss and turn for about 8 minutes, and sleep for the remaining 30 seconds, before starting the cycle all over again.

Despite my prayers for the rain to fall every Monday morning, I was forced from my slumber on this cold Harmattan January Monday morning by my alarm clock, which began making noise at precisely 6am. I rolled over, turned on the light, and examined the device to see if there was a way I could make it temporarily stop beeping. I noticed a few buttons – there was an on and off switch, and a bigger button. Faced with a decision, I weighed my options. If I turned the alarm off I would likely go back to bed and definitely miss the trotro bus to school, which would lead to me, getting lashed on the buttocks at school. If I kept the switch toggled to “on”, the clock would keep making noise, and cause me most likely to kill myself right there. I was about to choose when I noticed that the biggest button on the whole clock read in capital letters SNOOZE, and I rejoiced thinking to myself “that’s exactly what I want to do,” and so I extended my index finger, and pressed the button one time. Magically, the noise ceased and I realized that from that moment on, my life would never be the same.

This was the first time I had ever utilized the snooze button, but it sure wouldn’t be the last. Far from it. The Snooze button grew on me like a cancer. When I first discovered the Snooze button, I was a little confused, mostly because I thought the alarm clock’s purpose was to wake people up, not encourage them to go back to sleep. My feelings towards the alarm clock were mixed. At first, it was making a sound that was so offensive, and I resented it for that. But then it would stop thanks to the snooze button, causing the abuse to end, and I was grateful to the snooze button for that.

But the alarm clock wasn’t the only thorn attempting to not let me keep sleeping, and keeping me miserable – my mom was another. She would be coming in the room while the alarm clock was beeping because it was making noise and she wanted to check if I was really awake. Then one morning, she got so mad and threw the alarm clock against the wall and spoilt it. Poor thing, I knew that was going to be the end of my beauty sleep.

Now that the alarm clock was gone, my mother quickly assumed the position of the human alarm clock. She would come drifting in and out of the room, shouting at the top of her lungs for me to wake up and not miss the trotro bus to school. She was reminding me in not so pleasant terms that I should wake up, and she made it pretty clear that the deadline for doing so was now, and she didn’t hesitate to use ruthless tactics waking me up. For instance, she turned the light on in my room to deter me from falling back asleep. And when all those tactics failed, I left her with no option than for her to use the one bucket of water method. She would fetch and carry one bucket of water, and pour it on me while I was still dozing, wetting me and the bed in the process.

I was convinced that my mother was from hell and nothing could erase the misery I was experiencing. Well, I would wake up amid tears, and hoping that someone would buy me another alarm clock so my mother will stop disturbing me every morning.
The water in the bucket was always cold coupled with the already cold Harmattan morning. To an 11 year old boy, my mother was from THE HOTTEST PART OF HELL SENT TO KILL ME. Because of the coldness of the weather, I stopped showering and went to school.
Now I am older and this morning, I woke up at 7:32am. My alarm clock was set at 8:00am and I beat it by about 28 minutes. I am an adult, and I am beginning to understand my mother’s one bucket of water. We live in a business world where TIME IS MONEY and time is everything. After all, nobody wants to be late for work and get his/her ass fired.It hit me this morning that I don’t hate my mother. I love her and I thank her for the strict upbringing.

Ghanianboy

what God sees in you

Jacob looked at Joseph and saw a good son!

The ten brothers looked at Joseph and saw a useless dreamer!

The travellers looked at Joseph and saw a slave!!

Potiphar looked at Joseph and saw a fine servant!!

Potiphar’s wife looked at Joseph and saw a potential boyfriend!

The prison officers saw in Joseph a prisoner!

How wrong were all of them?
God looked at Joseph and saw a Prime Minister of Egypt in waiting!!

Don’t be discouraged by what people see in you!! Be encouraged by what God sees in you!! Never underrate the person next to you because you never know what the Lord has deposited in that person. Your maid may be a Chief Executive Officer in waiting for a company which shall employ your child. Your garden-boy may be a president in waiting. (Remember David got the anointing of becoming a King while he was a simple child herding sheep. Esther was a simple orphaned girl yet she was a Queen in waiting).
Let’s share God’s love and make the world a better place to live.

letter to the youth

Dear Young,

You had a lot going for you, decisions about what career to pursue, what kind of person to fall in love with who to hang around with and so many things to do and explore.You had full of exciting things to discover how I wished I had lingered around for much longer, I liked the fantasies which made life such an adventure as there was such a freedom about you which I really wanted to enjoy and hold on to.

However real life is not a fairy tale like you made me believe I soon discovered that there was more to life than fantasies. There were disappointments to contend with, failures to cope with loneliness to deal with when suddenly friends had a lot to do and did not have time to hang around any more. As I joined the world of work I soon discovered there was so much competition demanding that I upped my game if ever I was to make it in life. Living under my parents’ roof meant I did not need to bother very much about paying bills as long as I contributed my board and lodge and some how they would make it all balance.

Having to pay all the bills in my own place made me realize how challenging it is not to be young any more, yet you allowed me to get carried away with your ideas of being young without giving me an opportunity of taking responsibility.

I am very sure there are many people who relish the idea of being young and all the prospects it offers, and forget that there is more to life than fantasies. Do not get me wrong it is great to be young I only wish you could be more realistic about life.
me

Handle with Care

How do we handle critism

handikwani02

Criticism does knock one’s confidence when it is offered whether constructive or other wise. It is human nature to want to protect one’self from what may seem as an attack on one’s way of being or doing things. I have never been one to shy away from criticism as I was brought up to accept criticism. My mother always told me to listen to criticism and use it as a tool for self evaluation which was good advice indeed.
I have never wanted people to treat me with kid gloves I am totally the opposite I accept criticism whatever shape and form it comes then use it to look at the way I do things or the way I conduct my life. Like I mentioned at the beginning I must not give the impression that it does not hurt, it does and leave you very insecure. I have always analysed…

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people who make meetings annoying

I hate meetings. Let me rephrase. I LOATHE meetings. I understand they are supposed to be productive and help people brainstorm but I hate them because of several types of people who just make most meetings unbearable. Granted, there are some meetings I enjoy. They indeed help move things forward but a huge number – like 90% – are meetings I would rather have a kid repeatedly hit me in the nut sack with a bat than experience the agony they bring.
And the cause of this loathing is some types of people who make them unbearable

1) Mr. My way or this is war
This guy is the best guy you can ever have in the meeting – until you disagree with him. That is when his true colors come out. In his head, he is supposed to speak and everyone else is supposed to punctuate his words and ideas with exclamations of WOW and several lorries of confetti and glitter. The moment you go against what his general point of view or idea is, he will come at after you with guns, arrows and his grandmother’s crooked walking stick

3) Coitus Interuptus
In the county of annoying little pricks, this guy is the governor. He will interrupt every statement made in the meeting at the slightest opportunity. You’d be forgiven for thinking the crippled hamster running on the creeky wheel in his brain threatens to stop if this person shuts up for anything longer than five hurried seconds. If he had his way, he’d also frequently interrupt himself – the boardroom equivalent of masturbation

4) Waiter
This person insists on serving people in the middle of the meeting. The ridiculous thing about food in meetings is, no one wants it. They are either ridiculous snacks that would excite a 5-year old or there are weightier issues to deal with

6) Angry Preacher
This is mostly bosses. Meetings are called and from the moment the meeting starts to when it ends, all that come out of their mouth is complaints, threats together with three litres of saliva landing on helpless victims across the entire boardroom. The whole delivery is like that of an angry preacher threatening his frightened congregation of gloom and doom in the eternal fire of hell as their backsides get branded with tattooes of their uncountable sins. Only this time the hell is suspension or summary dismissal.

7) Cock-Blocker Extraordinaire
We all hate this type. The scenario that unmasks this type plays itself out slowly. The meeting has dragged on like a village wedding being conducted by an ageing pastor who repeats all his sentences. Thrice. The long torturous proceedings finally appear to be coming to an end when you hear those sweet words, “… and unless anyone has anything to add, that’s the end of the meeting.” That is when the devil nudges this type by sticking one of his horns up their rear end and the discomfort forces them open their mouths and say something. That has to be the only reason I can think of why someone would want to say something after a meeting that has taken unusually long to end finally looks like it is approaching the much awaited home-stretch. They are most possibly the guys who run after the teacher after the lesson was over to remind him that he had not given homework

Let’s all agree. These kinds of people need to be left tied up on a dry tree in the desert and ants directed to bite their hind quarters and neighbouring softer counties. The hands should be tied high above their heads so that they wouldn’t be in a position to scratch the nagging bites and itches.
That should teach them how annoying it feels to be a pain in the rear.