
Valentine's Day is around the corner, and before everywhere turns red, the price of flowers skyrockets, restaurants run out of bookings, and taxi prices get even higher, we'll be bombarded with gift ideas for him and her. Then, there are those who are feeling down because they don’t have a partner and others preparing for first dates. But before we get caught up in all of this, let’s take a moment to discuss something else—a feeling, or perhaps a moment in life, that I'm not sure many can relate to. This might resonate more with those who have come of age, the older generation, or those who have experienced life in different ways.
Maybe they just needed a little patience. Maybe they needed a little confidence, or maybe they just needed time. You saw them and knew, but the point in your life where you were at didn't allow you a chance with them. And so, you buried them—yet, they keep rising to the surface of your heart.
It's not hard; it just is. You're not sad, but you don’t quite know how to feel about it. You don't regret where you are in life now, but you know it could have taken a different turn that would have also been good or maybe. Words can’t quite explain how. The memories are sweet, though you never had them. Things didn’t fall apart; no moves were made. Maybe it was fear—your fear, their fear—or maybe it was just time that didn’t allow things to happen. Perhaps you lost contact after that first meeting, or after however many times you crossed paths.
But you know, in your heart, there was something real or felt like real or without a definition but kept lingering. A love so deep, even the earth would have been jealous of it. Some of you still see them; some of you haven’t in years. And for some, they've passed away. And then comes the silence—the silence that has never been broken, because you’ve never spoken of it to anyone. But your heart carries it, tucked gently in a quiet corner. You can’t suppress it. You simply learn to ignore it, because that’s just how it is now.
If you've ever worn a wig, you know they're not the most comfortable. Afro-style wigs might be a bit better, but generally, they’re not the most comfortable. Wearing a wig in the summer? It’s even worse. The sweat on your scalp builds up because your hair is trapped underneath, and adding another layer on top makes it unbearable. This is not just my personal experience. I mostly wear wigs for pictures to switch up my look, but not for long periods or as part of my everyday style. I’d never trade my freedom and comfort just to look a certain way.
Now, I’m not here to condemn those who can wear wigs for hours. If you can endure it, good for you, but for me, it’s uncomfortable. Over time, they cause itching—especially the ones glued on for too long—and they can even make your hair smell. Wearing wigs for extended periods doesn’t keep you comfortable and can even make you look tacky. That’s why I’m writing this article. I love switching up my look, but I’ve noticed that many women have become obsessed with wigs to the point where they’ll spend loads of money on them without ever investing in themselves. Shows like Young, Famous & African on Netflix or other reality shows featuring Black women rarely show anyone wearing their natural hair or sporting a culturally significant hairstyle. And that’s not to say wigs are bad, but it’s concerning how many Black women are promoting looks that don’t represent who we truly are. We need to teach younger generations that they don’t have to wear wigs to fit in.
I’ve had someone ask me why I didn’t “dress up” for an event simply because I wasn’t wearing a wig. Meanwhile, I looked just as beautiful in a lovely, decent dress—probably even better than her. But for some reason, not wearing a wig made me less “dressed up” in her eyes. I think the wig industry has taken away a lot of Black women’s confidence. Many women are willing to go to extreme lengths to wear a piece of someone else’s hair, and that’s what bothers me. I can meet ten beautiful Black women, and all of them will be wearing frontal wigs, with the lace visible and sometimes even the glue showing. No matter how skilled the installer is, I can still tell it’s not your hair, and honestly, it doesn’t look nice. Some are really pretty until you come closer, and then the lace is visible, or the glue starts to show, making it look less natural.

Yeah, it brings back all the memories as it marks two years since my sister left us to rest. It has been a mix of emotions. Some days are lighter than others, and some days are heavier. I know everyone hurts sometimes, but this one seems like it’s lingering—it’s not going away. She was what love stands for; she was my second mother. She was always so happy with me, but now she’s nowhere. I love her, I know, but why she stopped fighting, I didn’t know. Still, I am sure her reasons are good enough for me to accept, but her absence is not okay. No, I am not okay, as the 10th of January marked two years since she left us. I have been short of words, but tonight I got my words together.
Some days I cry, some days I smile, but how do I let go of her absence and the memories? I don’t even know how to feel sometimes—it’s all a mix of everything. If only she could speak and say, “Oh, I’m fine,” maybe I’d feel better about her absence. I miss her. We don’t talk anymore like we used to. When I call her name, I get no reply. Her voice is nowhere to be found. I don’t know how to fix this; I don’t know what to do. The tears just don’t stop.
Can someone knock on heaven's doors and tell them, Please, I miss her.
Heaven, please, I have a question. All I need is an explanation. I just want to know if she’s missing me. I can’t reconcile that she’s gone in my head. When I lost energy, she was like fuel—she gave herself completely. I know I’m not asking for much, Lord—just a whisper. If her voice is gone, then a touch. But if not, then tell her that I asked for her, that I love her, and that I’m always thinking about her.
Heaven, please, I feel so all alone. She wanted life more than ever before. Heaven, please, please. Heaven, please, if I could only just have one minute to tell her how I feel. Heaven, please, I just need a moment from this lifetime to have her by my side. Heaven, please.
I was walking on the street, and it was like I saw her. But when I looked closely, it was another person. How do I shake this off? I can’t. I feel empty. How do I tell her story when she is no more? When we don’t talk anymore? She is gone forever. I will forever miss her.
I couldn’t sleep last night because I slept in the afternoon, and let’s be real—whenever I nap during the day, I struggle to sleep at night. So, here I am, writing this post at 4:01 AM. I tried distracting myself by watching a show, but here’s the thing: if I feel sleepy, I’ll usually just knock out. But this time, I wasn’t sleepy at all, and I started worrying because I had work in the morning.
I thought maybe snacking on some cashew nuts would help, so I headed to the kitchen. But as I walked, I caught myself worrying about not being able to sleep again, even though I knew exactly why I couldn’t sleep. Then it hit me—why am I worrying? Worrying wasn’t going to fix anything; it was just making me more stressed.
So, I decided to let it go. I drank some water, opened a window for some fresh air, lay back on my bed, and wrote this post. I told myself, “You know what? I can’t sleep because I already napped in the afternoon. No big deal. Let me just enjoy this show.” And guess what? Once I stopped stressing about it, I started feeling sleepy.
Here’s what I realized: sometimes, things don’t go the way we plan—whether it’s little things or big things. And when we’re so used to things going a certain way, it’s easy to worry when they don’t. But what does worrying really do? It doesn’t solve the problem; it just adds to the stress.
If you’re going through something right now, ask yourself: why let worry take over your whole mood or day? Instead, do something that makes you happy. Take a walk, grab your favorite treat, pray, or go see something interesting. Distract yourself with something positive. There’s a saying in Nigeria: “Wahala no dey finish, make you try dey enjoy life.” It means troubles and worries never end, so we need to make an effort to enjoy life in the meantime.
It is appalling, infuriating, and beyond disgusting to hear about acts of cruelty like those committed at the Henrico Doctors’ Hospital NICU. How can anyone look at a newborn—fragile, innocent, and utterly dependent—and cause deliberate harm? And for what reason? The thought is chilling. These are infants we’re talking about—babies. The very notion that someone in a position of trust, like a nurse, could be so depraved is both heartbreaking and infuriating.
For those who do not know, the NICU, or Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, is a specialized area in a hospital dedicated to caring for newborn babies who require extra medical attention.
Erin Elizabeth Ann Strotman, a nurse arrested for allegedly causing fractures and injuries to NICU babies, has shaken me to my core. The fact that this is even a possibility shows the depth of the systemic rot within certain parts of the healthcare system. And yes, I’m going to say it—there’s a racial element here that we cannot ignore. When I hear stories like this, I cannot help but wonder about the role that racism plays. Racism isn’t just hateful words or discriminatory policies; it’s baked into the very fabric of systems that allow individuals to harm the most vulnerable without facing immediate accountability.
There’s a long history here. My grandmother always said that racism hasn’t decreased—it’s just that laws make it harder to act on openly. But give a white person the opportunity, and their true colors will show. Stories like this are a haunting reminder of that truth. If a white nurse can allegedly harm Black newborns, targeting them deliberately, what does that say about the depths of her cruelty? About the system that enabled her? About the unchecked biases that fester behind the smiles of people claiming, "I have Black friends"?
Let me be clear: having friends of another race doesn’t absolve anyone of prejudice. True decency is not about performing kindness; it’s about seeing every person as fully human, equal in worth and dignity. And when stories like this surface, it becomes clear that many people still fail this basic test of humanity.
It’s also important to note that this isn’t an isolated incident—it’s part of a larger pattern. The health system, like the police force, is supposed to protect and serve. Yet, we see time and time again how some individuals within these systems weaponize their positions against Black people. Babies in a NICU! Could there be a more vulnerable group? And what does it say about a society where such an atrocity can occur, not once, but repeatedly?

Finally, we have reached the end of 2024. Wow, I feel like the year flew by, almost as if it’s being chased by 2025, eager to make its entrance. I’m really excited about the new year, and I know I’ve said it several times, but I’m truly thankful for life! I wish you all a Happy New Year and can't wait to read all your blog posts in the year ahead, living according to God's plan.
HAPPY NEW YEAR! WELCOME TO 2025!
Photo by Efrem Efre
In my previous post, I mentioned it would be my last, but when I came across this news today, I felt compelled to share my thoughts.
For every country I have lived in, visiting restaurants has been one of the fun things I enjoyed doing. Never have I been obligated to give tips. Even in Ukraine, where I really enjoyed the services when I went out, I was never obligated or talked down to by a delivery person or server to give tips. I did it at will. The same applies to Hungary and here in the UK. However, I know experiences can differ from person to person.
When my friend traveled to America, she told me that waiters and servers gave her bad looks and even asked her to tip them. She was about to leave a restaurant, and a waiter asked her outright, “Where is my tip?” I was shocked when she said this happened several times in different places. I kept wondering: how are waiters allowed to harass customers like this and get away with it?
I’m not sure about the laws in America regarding tipping, but the broad understanding is that tips are given as a way for customers to appreciate good service, purely by choice. There is no obligation.
Today, while browsing through Instagram, I came across news about a case I’d heard about before, but now I got the full details. Seeing the face of the lady who stabbed another human being over a $2 tip was shocking. According to the story in the media, she made a delivery to someone staying in a motel and was tipped $2. She left but returned later with a man, forced their way into the person’s room, and stabbed the person several times.
The stabbed woman found out she was pregnant while receiving treatment in the hospital, according to NBC news. The 22-year-old woman who carried out the stabbing is facing charges of attempted murder.
This tragic incident highlights a deeper issue within society, particularly among the youth. The sense of entitlement and lack of accountability have led to behaviors that are both alarming and destructive. How do you justify harming someone over a personal choice like tipping?
People who take delivery or service jobs made that choice—no one forced them. Even if someone felt compelled by circumstances, they still chose to work because only those of working age are allowed to do such jobs. Whether it’s a well-paying job or not, everyone is navigating this tough economy. We’re all struggling, so there’s no excuse for entitlement.

While I was watching a reality TV show about a family who lives and raises their children in the bush, I was struck by the profound implications of their story. This family had built their life in the bush, far from the conveniences and demands of modern society. However, the government burned down their home located on public land, forcing them to relocate. Determined to continue their way of life, they purchased land deep in the forest in Alaska—a remote and inexpensive location—and began rebuilding. But the challenges didn’t end there: they had to endure long drives and build a new cabin just to maintain their lifestyle.
Why am I writing about this? Because their experience reflects a broader issue: the way governments and modern societies treat people who choose to live differently. Across the world, there are indigenous tribes and isolated communities who have been “discovered” by tourists, explorers, scientists, or even random adventurers. Once these groups are identified, governments often step in, claiming they need to introduce modernization, enforce regulations, or teach these people a “better” way of life. This paternalistic approach strips individuals and communities of their autonomy and disregards their unique cultures, traditions, and choices.
In my opinion, if we want to live in a world where human rights truly prevail, then people must be allowed to live the way they choose—whether or not we agree with their way of life. As long as they are not harming others, their choices should be respected. I’ve seen reality shows and documentaries from countries like the United States, Canada, and others, where indigenous tribes and remote communities are filmed without consent, their lives laid bare for public consumption. These invasions of privacy are not just disrespectful; they’re exploitative. Forcing these communities into the global spotlight, altering their way of life, or making them adapt to systems they never asked for is a gross violation of their freedom.
Some families and individuals deliberately reject the conventional trappings of modern society. They do not want to pay electricity bills, take on car or house loans, or be beholden to government systems. They don’t want to live a life of perpetual debt or adhere to societal expectations like attending formal schools or holding steady jobs. Instead, they prioritize simplicity, self-reliance, and connection with nature. Not everyone wants to use cell phones or drink contaminated tap water; some people crave fresh water, prefer planting their own food, and living sustainably. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Forcing them to conform to a system—a system often plagued by corruption, inequality, and coercion—is deeply unjust.
Have you taken the time to reflect on the year from its beginning to its near conclusion? I was at home when I had a deep reflection on Thanksgiving Day. God reminded me of all he has done for me this year, and I just started praising and worshiping him. God has guided every aspect of my life this year. God gave me peace, taught me patience, and shifted my heart from things that added no value to my life—and that didn't point me towards heaven. God provided me with a path to follow, which I will discuss in more detail soon, but overall, my heart is overflowing with joy. I want to thank God that I am among the living, and I am healthy enough to move around and do things. I want to thank God for keeping my parents alive, and I know that my prayer for them for 120 years will come true. I will look back on this post and say, "Yes, indeed, God is great."
Every day should be Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving. What are you thankful for?
