My Mother called me 10 times that morning. It was Thursday, 10:00 a.m. My younger brother, Michael, had sent me a message at 7:39 that morning. He told me I was the main subject of Mum's devotions and prayers that day. Everyone in the house knew what that meant. Whenever you featured prominently in Mum's prayers, you were likely to be jam-called, jam-texted or jam-prayed for, especially if you were physically around her. So, I made up my mind not to answer her calls or read her WhatsApp messages and voice notes. If it was an emergency, Michael would call me. At least, that was what I thought. Just as I settled into my decision, a thought came into my heart: "What if the emergency wasn't your mum? What if it was your brother, Michael?" Cold shivers ran down my spine. I immediately dialled Mum's number. "Hello, Aanu. Why haven't you been picking up my calls?" Whenever Mum called me by my indigenous name, something was either wrong or about to go...
Many a times, I want to express myself via writing. By God’s grace, I know I’m an articulate writer. I express myself better when writing than speaking. However, as soon as I set my mind to write, the enthusiasm drops and I’m wondering why I wanted to write. Some other times, I’m also thinking that what I want to write might be private. You see, I’m privileged to have certain private and dynamic relationships with different kind of people. As such, I’m being careful of writing what will make these people think I’m writing about them. At the same time, I love being private - I also wouldn’t want to write and the smart Peeps in my corner add one plus one to make eleven. Lol. Many reasons, right? Is it just me? Am I thinking too much? Am I caring too much? Am I too concerned? Am I am I? π Let’s go into what we have for us today. You see, sometime in the year 2021, my phone was stolen. That was like the third phone that got missing within the space of three years. Unfortunately...