Ogadinma— Everything Will Be Fine

A year ago, I was highly downcast but wasn’t depressed. I hated the month of July, and I hated August even more. There was nothing to be excited about. God had forsaken his favourite child after big bros J.

The 15th Day of August, 2021— My Birthday Eve

Apparently, God wasn’t going to answer my silly prayer—to make time still. I was to face my worst fear of the year, hitting that milestone age. “Hei God! This wasn’t the plan o!” I lamented. I cried my eyes out under my duvet. I dedicated one hour to crying (from my eyes and nose). I cried. I crode. I crude.

It was a terrible time for me. No money. No savings. No love. No life. No industrial training placement (I was a beggar with a choice. It was either a leading food company or nothing). The only good thing about the month was the huge box of clothing my big sister sent me. The joy sustained me till the eve of my birthday when it hit me that my mother was still giving me daily allowance and money for data and transport. Ah! At a quarter of a century?! When I should be doing big auntie and having my little relatives come to spend their holidays with me?

Are you wondering why that was such a problem for me? Let’s take a walk down memory lane.

A Little Walk Down Memory Lane

I was an independent child growing up. An empathetic and thoughtful one. I am still very sensitive about people’s feelings. I’m also good at reading a room and acting accordingly. I was raised by a widowed single mom. I was aware of how hard she worked to give me a comfortable life. She could eat once daily to ensure I had at least four meals daily. There was not a day when I missed a cup of milk. I was always one of the best-dressed children in a room. I went to the best schools, I used the latest stationaries in school, changed my shoes and school bag regularly, and was well-fed.

Some people thought she was my nanny because of the contrast; others thought she was my aunt because of the resemblance and difference in appearance. I was a typical ajebo. Others called me agric. Don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t shabby; people just thought I was too ajeboish to be hers. Funny, ehn?

I saw the sacrifices she made, so I never made demands. I think this is how I started the “don’t worry habit.” I remember convincing my mother I preferred egg to chicken or beef just so she wouldn’t feel bad when those things weren’t available. I will tell her I didn’t care for this and that because I knew she’d go out of her way to make them available and beat herself up when she couldn’t.

Good thing is that I’ve always been a garri lover, but I did the garri-lover thing a little too much for my mom. It was so bad that my mom started to hide garri from me. Every time I saw my mom worrying about the meal to prepare for dinner, I’d be quick to suggest garri and milk with groundnut (using milk was a must). And she’d only give in because she thought I really wanted it. I didn’t mind; I really liked garri.

I started a saving habit at a very young age. At seven, I wasn’t saving for toys or junk. I had a long-term goal of saving enough to buy land and build a house for my mom. I was lovable as a child and had lots of gifts, mostly monetary. I got money from strangers almost daily just for being cute, respectful, well-mannered, or a “sharp girl.” On days when we went out to visit family or friends, I got even more money. My mom also gave me money for snacks every day during the holidays. So I had plenty to save. I saved in kolos, bags, books…I saved money in every place savable.

My savings always came in handy, and I was always happy to offer financial help to my mom. I was concerned that touching my savings meant more time to complete my savings for the land I planned to buy. I wasn’t even ten yet (my ten-year-old self will be shocked to know I don’t own a block to my name yet). Sometimes, I loaned my mother money, but I never collected it back because that was my way of appreciating her love.

There was this incident that made her sad. In fact, it made her cry, and nothing breaks my heart more than seeing that beautiful woman cry (BTW, she’s the cutest when she’s mad or cries). It was a holiday. She left for work early and left some instructions for me before leaving. Unfortunately, sleep didn’t let me process and retain anything she said. I didn’t know where my breakfast and snacks were and decided to starve myself, despite receiving a gift of N50 from my adopted mother.

My adopted mom was a neighbour who lived opposite us and was obsessed with me; she declared me to be her adopted child. BTW, I didn’t use to eat from people without my mom’s approval. Cooked food from other people was a NO for me. So I didn’t eat in this my adopted mother’s house when I had options.

Anyway, my mother returned home in the evening and found out that her beloved daughter had almost starved herself to death because she thought there was no food in the house. “Why didn’t you go to XYZ to get a bottle of Mirinda and buns or doughnut and tell me when I return?” My mother queried. “I didn’t want to buy something on credit,” I replied.

“What of the money in your kolo? Why didn’t you take out of it? Did you not say Auntie Maureen (now I don’t know if it’s Monique) gave you N50? Why didn’t you use it?” She queried further. “I wanted to save it. I didn’t want to spend my money.” My mother was so upset with my obsession with saving. She gave me a long talk, and the summary was that saving is good, but na who dey alive dey enjoy savings.

Well, all that talk fell on deaf ears. Saving became an addiction. I got into secondary school and hardly ever spent my snack money; my lunch was sufficient for me. There were times I’d walk back home with some of my classmates with the excuse of listening to premium gist when in fact, I was saving. My mother wasn’t aware until one period when the federal government workers were on an indefinite unpaid strike. She needed quite a large sum, and I offered to borrow her; that was when she knew how much I was into saving. She knew I saved but just didn’t know the extent.

The End of the Lane

Anyway, that’s enough walking. The whole point of this story is that, at a very young age, I took it upon myself to buy things for myself. I bought my first phone with my own money at twelve. I paid small fees in school without my mother’s knowledge. I bought myself school sandals and wristwatches (I was obsessed with wristwatches, thanks to my mom). I wore a different watch every week. As a teenager, wristwatches were the only things I ‘spent money on.’

So you can imagine how difficult it must be for me as an adult to still be financially dependent. It is hell. It is why I can never be dependent on a man. Not in this lifetime. I love me some baby girl treatment, but I must have my own source of income. Depending on a man would be slavery and not a luxury for me.

It is the same not wanting to ask for money that made me have zero savings as a young adult in university. It is only when I’m left with nothing that I remember I have people who will take care of me with pleasure. I try to make my asking periods as infrequent as possible. And when I’m asked if I need anything, my response is always no, even when I know my last 2K is waiting to be snatched by responsibilities that come with adulting.

The 16th Day of August 2021 — My Birthday

Finally, the highly dreaded day came, and I didn’t want to wake up to it. I had severe anxiety; I almost purged out my intestines, couldn’t eat, and couldn’t sit still. In short, I was restless. I cried again.

Guess what happened when I received something hooge from my sugar daddy in my account! My body became whole again; anxiety flew out of my body, and my appetite miraculously returned. As if that was not enough, his wife now sent her own. What was supposed to be my worst birthday turned around to be my best. Turned out that lack of money was my real problem.

The turnaround didn’t stop there; my second sugar daddy got me a cake with candles, a sash, and a tiara (it was so girly, it felt like my sweet 16 birthday).

Oh. I also started saving again with the mindset of “if I perish, I perish.” But my good God refused to watch me perish. He provided abundantly, using numerous people. I think I owe Cowrywise a shout-out. Thank you for helping Ekata get her groove back.

The End of Chapter 25

I now have a bias towards the number 25. Looking back, 25 was a beautiful chapter. It is special. I was really excited for my friends that flipped to that chapter in their own lives this year because I feel good things will come for them, too, just as they did for me.

To say I didn’t experience the pre-birthday sadness this year would be a lie. I did, but I refused to let it overwhelm me this time. Though I’m still not where I dream of being, I have faith that everything will be fine, and I shall live my dreams.

I can’t wait to see what this new chapter has for me. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be getting a cake this year; everyone thinks I now have money. It looks like they’ve suddenly stopped seeing me as a baby girl (God abeg). I don’t blame them, na me dey live fake life.

No, no, no. I’m not spending any money on something that might cause me diabetes. All the money I have right now is for a new phone (this is one of those terrible adult decisions one is forced to make. What is life without mistakes? Just make sure you open your door to me when I come knocking for bread and fish).

The Beginning of Chapter 26: Everything Good Shall Come

In this new year, I pray for discernment and clarity of purpose. I pray for the ability to love back when I find a genuine one. I pray to find my purpose and find peace in it. I pray for more spiritual, mental, and financial growth and stability.

May this new year bring more beautiful people into my life. May my butt continue to have the power to change destinies. May my skin always be like milk and honey. May my hair continue to grow wild (the one on my head, dear God. The ones on my legs can take a bow and rest).

Happy birthday to me. Special shout-out to my sisturh and birthday mate, Jadesola, the queen of design and branding (check out her work on IG @exquisitedesigns_by_jade) I love you! Happy post-humous birthday to my late best friend and first birthday mate, Ojorane. I love you forever!

My Songs of Thanksgiving/Celebration

-Oni lojo pe, edumare. Olupilese, oba mimo; o seun. Olugbala, ope ye o; o seun. Mo wa dupe, mo yin oluwa. Mo de o baba, mo wa juba re, Iwo lo je koni soju mi o; mo wa dupe…

-The Lord bless me and keep me. The Lord make his face to shine upon me, and give me peace…

-Iwo ni mo wa fiyin fun o baba loke, ose o baba. Gbope mi, dakun. Gbogbo oun to wa lara mi o, Jesu, ni ma fi yin o o baba lorun…

-Eka me a ta, whese nosa whu ni me? Eka me a ta? Eka me a ta o?…

-Champion by Fireboy DML (Apollo)

-Remember Me by Fireboy DML (Apollo)

Here’s to a new chapter and unapologetically living life on my terms. And to attracting good things and people. 🥂