Toks Igbokwe & the song “What have you done today to make you feel proud”

What have you done today to make you feel proud!
I attended a “Thanksgiving service to celebrate the life of Toks Igbokwe” today.
On my arrival home I thought about the service I had just attended and all of the wonderful things that were said about Toks.
Toks was barely 40 years old. She passed on March 3rd. She was married with 2 children. Toks was also extremely talented.
As I listened to the variety of tributes, some of which raised a smile, some made me want to shed a tear, others encouraged me to reflect on my life, I thought about my own memories of this remarkable woman.
She brought me a handbag. It was a gorgeous large brown bag which was very reflective of me it’s new owner. I wore that bag out. I loooved that bag. I marvelled at how she got it sooooooooooooooo right. I still have the bag. I am trying to save it because I used it so much the handles are falling off and I want to get it repaired. I of course thanked her for the bag and told her that I really liked it. I never really told her just how much I liked it.
I remember a performance that she gave. It was a “work in progress”, she was working on a one woman show and was just sharing the story so far. In this show was a male character who was shopping for toilet paper I think his name was Yusef. The way she developed this “man”, asked questions of him, about him and through him was remarkable. For the next few months when in the toilet paper aisle in Tesco’s I thought about this guy. Yes I thought about this “character” often but I had never told her how thought provoking her portrayal of this guy had affected me. I told other people, I told my friends, I told just about anyone I thought would listen. I did not tell her !
There were times when passing me to make her way to her seat at church she would just gently rub or pat my back. That pat meant so much. I don’t know if she knew that I felt soooooooooooooo alone, so very invisible, I felt as if nobody noticed or cared whether I was there or not. However she would touch me. She noticed me. I never told her just what that meant to me.
I liked her smile. Her face would light up when she saw you. I never told her how much I appreciated that smile. That smile told me, I see you, I notice you, I am pleased to see…………YOU.
So what does all of this have to do with the title of this song?
Well for some reason, that’s the song of the day for me today. It maybe because Tok’s afro was slightly reminiscent of Heather Small’s or maybe hearing and reading all of the heartfelt and true accolades, I wished that she was there to hear and receive them for herself. People are proud of her. She has gone too soon, but I am proud to have known her in some small way.
So what have I done today to make me feel proud?
I have told you about Toks. I just wish I told you about her when she was alive!

I admitted it yesterday. I had realised it before so it wasn’t a new revelation.

Was I being interrogated? No.

Was I feeling guilty or ashamed? No.

Was it something that was weighing heavily on my mind that I needed relief no matter how temporary from? Well no, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that.

So my public confession goes a little like this.

“Hi My name is Melanie and I am an…………..enabler”.

When most people think about an enabler they might come up with a positive definition such as “An enabler is a person who through their  actions helps  someone else to achieve something.”

Not bad huh? That’s what most of us aim to accomplish whilst on this mortal coil. The song comes to mind that my mother used to sing when I was younger.

“If I Can Help Somebody
as I Travel Along
if I Can Help Somebody
with A Word Or Song
if I Can Help Somebody
from Doing Wrong
Then my Living Shall Not Be In Vain”.

I help people, I am there for somebody who needs me to help them. That is what we are taught to do especially as women, we help people, be there for them be an enabler. So what’s wrong with that?

Well it can be tiring, draining, exhausting, you have little time for yourself or the things you want to do, but you have a sense of …… well; when at night your head drops onto the cold hard pillow and you secretly or even openly pray that sleep has accompanied you to bed and snuggles up to you really tightly. Or do we do it because it gives us a sense of belonging, being needed, achievement, it gives us a sense of purpose. To be an enabler is a good thing……….Right?
Well it also has a negative side. It can be associated with people who allow those close to them to behave in destructive ways. For example, an enabler wife of an alcoholic might provide her husband with alcohol because it’s a more peaceful solution than what the alternative might be and she does after all still love him.

It’s the negative side that concerns me.

I find myself in a bit of a situation. I feel damned if I do, damned if I don’t.  You see people, I feel responsible for the vulnerable in this situation, so I continue to act as an enabler in order to hopefully ensure that they don’t fall through the cracks. But I wonder if my enabling is causing more problems. Am I helping them to avoid facing the issues that they appear to be continually mired in? They don’t seem to want to try to do something different, step out of their comfort zone, maybe for want of a better word “Hustle”. They are waiting for the big opportunity to come a knocking at their door, and it has knocked before and they were ready, prepared and willing to open it, but it’s not knocking right now a different tactic has to be put in place.

We have spoken and spoken and spoken but they don’t want to hear what I have to say. That is fine, they don’t have to listen to me I am not their mother, but by not listening to me vulnerable people could end up getting really hurt and if that happened then I’d feel so guilty.

So what is it I do for the best? Well I don’t know, I am not entirely sure.

Should I continue to be an enabler, it’s not such a dirty little secret, people are aware of what it is I’m doing but I know that some do not approve.  How do I stop being an enabler, how do I protect the vulnerable and not help this person continue in their behaviour?

We enable acquaintances, our work colleagues, church associates, friends and family because the payoff we get from it makes it somehow worth our while. It may be a “I scratch your back you scratch mine” situation. It may be a secret you are keeping because you know that by not revealing something that could lead to their downfall, they will owe you big time. It may just be because compassion comes into play. It may be that relationships are being maintained or even in our opinion nurtured. In which ever category I choose to place myself or have been placed, I am an enabler.

I feel a little uncomfortable with my status. I don’t like the way I wear the coat. It is not one that I am always aware of wearing but there are times when I feel it is uncomfortable, tight, restricting and the colour of it does not complement my character.

Should I allow my status as an enabler to cause me to make foolish decisions, regarding life, love, laughter, my future, my hope and dreams. Yes I probably have less years ahead of me than behind me and I want to live them profitably. Will being an enabler help or hinder me? Will it help or hinder those I am trying to protect and help? Is it because I want to be able to say at the end of my days that, “my living was not in vain because I helped somebody as I travelled along”. The question remains to be asked, should I live my life according to the lyrics of some old song that Mahalia Jackson sang. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UlGgqiJM4Q

Each day brings new challenges, new decisions, new choices to make. I suppose the first step in dealing with it is acknowledging it. I have taken the first step.

My name is Melanie and I am an enabler.

 

I HAVE TO FIGHT

I was told that I have to fight. I realise that I didn’t understand what the word “fight” meant. I thought I was fighting. I fasted, prayed, fasted waited. Years later the position seems to be the same, there appears to be very little progress. The question is how much longer?

“It’s always darkest before the dawn” they say, how do they know they should be in their beds at that time. It has been so very dark recently. I struggle to see, my night vision needs improvement. Maybe I should eat more carrots.

I have to fight to stay, play and pray. This is a fight for my life. A fight to the death, a fight to stay alive, I have to fight in order to win. I have got to win, there is no other option, Win or die!! Simple as that. Win or die. I have to win, I have to!!

“A Dramatic turn around for me and my family”. That’s what’s been promised and that’s what I will have, that’s what I am fighting for, nothing less, absolutely nothing less!!!

Round 1, ding a ling a ling. I’m not even seated, I’m ready, like a panther to pounce, destroy, defeat my opponent. This is not going to be a long fight, I’m ready, prepared, toned, my skills honed. I can take this round, there shouldn’t be too many of them. “By round three, I will have victory!!”

Round 2, Ding a ling. Feeling confident, I’ve been training hard. Working on my cardio, worked on building up my strength. I’m in great shape. I dance and skip around the ring, doing my best impression of Ali when he was “the Greatest”. I sing my motivational sayings out loud for him to hear “I am more than a conqueror, Blood has already been shed for my victory” and laugh when my opponent misses his shot. I can do this, I know I can win this fight, my faith is strong. I’m inspired.

Round 3, comes and goes. Hmmmm, it should be over by now, I should have knocked him out. Oh well never mind I’ll do it in the next round. End of Round 4, maaaan he really stamped on my foot and it was not accidental. I’m back in my corner, trying to psyche my opponent out. I stare at him, look strong, I want to mess up his head. He gave me a couple of harsh blows in the last round. They hurt, but he can’t know that, my trainer coached me well. I’ve gotta win. I’m gonna win.

Round 5, 6, 7. I’m a bit more battered, bruised, breathless, bloodied, but I’m still able to hear the bell, got to stand to my feet and fight. My wing man keeps telling me I can do it. Round 9, I haven’t knocked him out yet, I need to deliver that final blow, I give it my best shot, he staggers, but he’s still in the fight. Ok, this dude thinks he’s bad, but he aint badder that me!

Round 11, The blow I deliver isn’t even that hard to be truthful, but it catches him off guard and he’s on the floor. I’m soooooooo relieved. At Last, it’s been a hard fight, went on much longer than I anticipated.

The referee is counting, 1…2….3….4….

“That’s right” I say

“Stay down there on the floor, that’s where you belong”.

I try not to show too much distress or disappointment when he’s trying to get up.

“Come on ref you’re counting too slow”, 7…8…he’s up on his feet. The referee is talking to him. Maybe he’s going to stop the fight and declare me the winner. No, he doesn’t do that and we fight on.

Ding a ling. End of Round 13. Round 14, nearly there. Thank Yaaaa Jesus nearly there.

Ding a ling. I struggle to get out of my corner,  but I know that this is the last round. Round Fifteen. The fifteenth of fifteen rounds. This IS the last round. Oxygen seems in such short supply but somehow I muster the strength to get up, make my way to the middle of the ring, assume the fighting position and go for it. Man I get hit so hard, I’m stunned, I see stars, hear discordant music between my ears, but I’m still standing…….. Just. Truth be told, I’m leaning against the ropes, they are supporting my body and preventing me from slumping to the floor, but I’m still technically on my feet. I try desperately to grasp some of the oxygen in the heady, stuffy, odour filled air that surrounds me so that my lungs can get some relief. I’m back in the fight and I get some serious punches in, I go for it. My opponent hits back. Wham, Blam, Shazzam!! I receive some targeted blows, no “Marquis of Queensbury Rules” here. Low blows, blows to the heart, emotions, eyes, kidneys, relationships, bank balance. But yet I’m still in it to win it. I’m sure that the judges are going to award this round to me, I just know it, I fought better than he did, got more jabs in.

You can imagine my shock, horror when, sitting on the stool in my corner, my wing man sponging me down and telling me what a good job I’ve done and I hear the bell. Ding a Ling. I’m sure I haven’t miscalculated, the fight was suppose to over and I should have been declared the winner. My opponent jumps up ready to fight. I couldn’t have miscounted, it’s supposed to be fifteen rounds, I’m so sure I’ve counted correctly, fifteen rounds, that’s what it’s supposed to be. This is round sixteen. I protest. This is round Sixteen, Sixteen. There are not sixteen rounds in boxing, there are not sixteen rounds in boxing matches!!!!The fight is over, declare the result. I should have won on points at least. I remonstrate with the officials but to no avail.

I decide, I’m not fighting anymore and stay seated. This is my “sit in” protest. The civil rights movement sat at the counters of Woolworths in order to protest at their policy of segregation. This is not fair, this isn’t how it’s meant to be. I’m protesting and I want it to be seen and heard. My opponent however, doesn’t miss a beat. He runs over to my corner ready to knock me out while I’m seated and my defences are down. I avoid his blow with a swift defensive upper cut and quickly get onto my feet. If I want to continue to live I gotta fight and protest some other time. I get pushed back into the ring by my wing man and immediately receive a massive blow to the head. Dazed and discombobulated, I know I have to fight back if I’m not going to get knocked out. It’s not over yet, just one more round, this must be it. I fight with all the strength I can muster. I have to win. I fight back, get in a some hard jabs myself, my muscles are screaming, the lactic acid build up is unbearable, the blood is pouring down my face making it impossible to see clearly. My ears are humming from the upper left hook I just received. Ring the end of the round bell, ring the bell, ring it, ring it nuh man, ring di damn bell. The round must be over by now.

I get little respite in my corner. A quick swig of water hardly quenches my thirst, a wet sponge tries its best to refresh my weary head but fails, the towel roughly clears my face of the debris and blood from the last round and……..

Ding a ling next round. Ding a ling, round after that, and another one after that. When is this fight going to be over, I feel as if I’ve been in the ring for years, I’ve watched other peoples battles and theirs comes to an end eventually, when is mine gonna end? My legs, arms, head, shoulders, back every part of me aches, hurts, experiences searing, torturous, pain, my heart  and eyes weep continually. But I’ve gotta assume the position, hands up, protect the face, defend yourself, make sure I deliver the knock out blow. I gotta win

Ding a ling a ling… next round…

What does He have to say about my Parenting skills ??

A friend of mine had experienced a personal tragedy and I went along to give my support. As the evening drew on the conversation turned as it inevitably does to different things. Essentially my Parenting skills.

My son’s father went through the door not to return so I have brought him up for the last 13/14 years by myself. It has been “the best of times”, it has been “the worst of times”. I have for most of his life been, in the immortal words of Bob Marley “Fighting on (his) arrival… fighting for (his ) survival”. It has been hard, very hard. I have made some good decisions and some not so good decisions. I have made career decisions that would allow me to be home in good time to “mother”.  My career has appeared to have stalled, my salary has tried to do the same  and I have no support from his father or from anywhere else. Yet I have tried my best.

Well, after chatting with the friend I felt like I had been slated. It came across that I was an awful mother who put her own personal needs ahead of the needs and future of her child. I should have done this, I should have done that, If I was as good a parent as I think I am I shoulda woulda coulda!!!

As I lay in bed that night, the tears insisted on making their way down my face on their journey towards the pillow. I ached, I wondered, I pondered. I thought through past decisions, past efforts and wondered some more. It took a long time, 1:30 am I was still awake, but I eventually drifted off to sleep. When I woke up at 7:06am I still felt like crap. It was as if nobody understood. Nobody!!!

It sounds like such a cliché when people say “it has not been easy”, but it honestly has not been easy. Not saying that my child was a difficult child but he has had what turned out to be difficult issues. My family was very supportive, I wouldn’t have made it without them but it was still very very hard. I cried so much, felt like such a failure, wondered why why why.

After visiting my friend I thought about my life. It hasn’t really turned out the way I planned, now I’m not complaining but some things have been disappointing and ………………………. Oh well. We live and learn don’t we.

The next day I was reading “letters to my daughter” by Maya Angelou and a thought entered my mind. My friend didn’t think I’ve been a good mother (they have no children by the way). That hurt, man I felt as if Mike Tyson had just box me down for the hell of it. But what does “God” say? You see I’ve been trying to parent the way that I believe God wants me to. Not saying I always got it right, but that was my “modus operandi”. I wondered what God would say about my parenting and I immediately felt better.

1980′s Bracelets and Him!

 The 80′s are back in. I was there the first time and yes I do remember it. In the department store last week I saw items of jewellery for sale that were similar to ones that I owned back then. There was a beautiful chunky, ivory looking bracelet that looked rather familiar. It had been tweaked here and there, but it looked like one I used to own. I say used to, because although I liked big, bold, notice me bracelets, they were not conducive with my role as one of the church keyboardists. They would drag, bang, knock on the keys and get caught up the groves between notes. The noise that they would make would sometimes get picked up by the microphones if I was also singing or a singer was close by. I used to try to take them off between songs and put them on top of the instrument, sometimes forgetting to pick them up when the service was over. Eventually I had to get the hint, save myself  some money and frustration  and recognise that I needed to give these things up if I was to continue to play the keyboard. The two things just did not go together, not with me anyhow. The so-called tribal, ethnic, African look is back, there are just some things that I won’t be indulging in this time around. Time has taught me what to take on board, what to look at, admire but leave alone and what to walk straight past and not even think about going there.

Today I was talking to a friend of mine who has relocated, she was saying that it was difficult to get hold of me because it seemed as if I was never in. She wondered what exciting things I was getting up to. I explained to her that my life wasn’t really that exciting at the moment, but give me time and once I’m back on my feet it will be. About 30 minutes later the phone rang again. I thought it was my friend again so I picked up the phone in eager anticipation to continue the conversation, it was not her. The person on the end of the phone was someone that I had to make a decision about 6 weeks ago. It hasn’t been that easy and to be honest I do miss the attention but I realised after a while that it really was time to move on. He heard the surprise in my voice and asked me if I wanted him to hang up. I said yes and then hung up the phone myself. After wards I felt a little peculiar. He was probably ringing to see if  I really had moved on and I don’t think he expected my response. It felt good, not good in the sense of  “See I will show you what you are missing”, but good in the sense that I was making the decision that I felt was the best one for me.  I had to process my feelings, be honest with myself, check on what it really was that I was feeling. I knew that this ’relationship’ wasn’t going anywhere even though I had invested a lot of my emotional and physical time in it. He turned up in my life during a really rough time, I turned up in his life while he was going through a really rough patch. He had been hurt in the past, so had I. He is a parent, so am I.  But I had to let him go. If my life is going to be what God has said it can be and will be, there are things that I need to let go of. I am not saying that he was or is a bad horrible man, he really is not, but…. he is not  right for me.

I purchased quite a few of those distinctive looking bracelets hoping for different results each time. Telling myself that  ”this time, it wont get caught up in the keys, this time I’ll be able to play without feeling like I have weights on my wrists”. Playing the keyboard was and is so much more important than accessories. This guy was nice and I have got to admit there was a time in the relationship when I was hoping that he would want to take it further. I’m now glad that he didn’t, he like the bracelets had to go, the weights were not on my wrist,but in this relationshipI felt their heaviness. I know it’s not the same thing but as much as I liked statement bracelets they are not for me either

Sow a Seed

I’ve been in this thing a while now and I’ve seen people, pastors, prophets, pimps, come and I’ve seen them go. Many have been absolutely wonderful, fellow travellers in this journey and enjoying helping you to learn more about GOD, yourself and your fellow travellers. Some have been PIMPS. Using the worshippers in the church to their own ends, making money off their hard work not bothered whether the people they are preaching to are struggling because they are unemployed, single parents, in ill health, students , refugees , or dealing with addiction.
We in some ways were easy targets. Ok let me say I was an easy target. I was brought up in a strict Pentecostal tradition where it would probably have been easier to name the thing that was NOT sin rather than what was sin. This produced a “Guilt” laden way of thinking. Well thank fully I began to learn better, had to fight for my freedom, got disfellowshipped from the Pentecostal church I attended and entered fully into the so called “word of faith” movement. I felt free. I really felt free, I could wear what I liked and worship God freely, go to the theatre and cinema without having to argue about it’s merits. I would get good , nurturing word and my growth in Christ was taking place. But in one particular way It was out of the frying pan and into the fire.

One day a preacher came to the church I now attended. Now this church believed in the seed sowing principle.
“While the earth remains, seed time and harvest…shall not cease.”(Genesis 8:22) There were also the phrases like “if you have a need sow a seed”.
Now I do believe this I really do. So what’s my problem?
Seed was 99 out of 100 depicted as financial. MONEY!!! Yes you can make a pledge to God and ask him to do something for you. It could be healing, a new Job, for success with exams, for help in any area. It is scriptural
“He stared at the angel and was terrified. Cornelius asked the angel, “What do you want, sir?” The angel answered him, “God is aware of your prayers and your gifts to the poor, and he has remembered you.” (Bible in Basic English Acts 10:4)
But sometimes we were desperate absolutely desperate for God to do something and we’d JUST throw money at the problem. We wouldn’t take the time to ask God what He wants us to do regarding this situation, we’d sow a seed or fling down our money and wait and wait and …………………………………..wait.

Now am I saying God never did anything for me when I sowed seed? NO NO NO NO NO!!!!! God is truly amazing, He has been sooooooooooooo good to me and my Son. My issue is not with God and His word. My issue is with those who have chosen to manipulate their congregations into giving their last penny not out of trust and hope in God but because they were made to feel as if they had no faith and no trust in God.
I remember it was a Sunday night. There was a guest minister. He declared that we failed to give to God. He seriously laid into us. I felt sooooo bad. I had £10 for the whole week. This was my transport money to get me into work and to try to make a bit of lunch to take with me.Times were hard. Please note I felt bad and I gave my last £10. Now I have to admit I hoped that before I left the church building someone would at least replace it if not give me more. Well it wasn’t replaced and I walked home that night. The next day I walked into work and walked home and the next and the next and the next. I was upset with God because I felt I had sown and He had let me down. But I failed to take into account 2 Corinthians 9:7
“You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.”
Now I agree that God can and does sometimes ask you to give more than you had originally planned. But I, on this occasion given in response to pressure, I have given in response to pressure many times. But I have stopped doing that now!!!
I cannot get upset with God because it wasn’t Him, it was the preacher, I felt guilty, I was told I wasn’t pleasing God, It was in some ways like being back in the Pentecostal Church and being roasted over the coals for not wearing a hat or wearing makeup and earrings. I hated the telling off back as a child and hated the telling off by the guest minister as a young lady so gave money to get these people off my back!!
NOT Any more!!! I will not give in response to pulpit pressure any more. I stopped doing it a few years ago. I couldn’t pay my bills but I was sowing and sowing and sowing and getting further and further into debt. I was giving because I often felt bullied by the preachers, evangelist on TV, or elsewhere. My motivation was wrong.
Some of these people have abused their congregations, some of them we know about, some we don’t and people and their families have suffered. I have seen for myself and heard other stories of Pastors using the pulpit to promote their own businesses and berating their congregations for not buying their product. Now the Pastors lived very nicely thank you. Many of their congregations …….well lets put it this way did not.
I have also learnt that giving is not always about money. You can give your time this can work out to be very expensive. When you think of the exhaustive list of things that you have to do, taking time out to visit or call someone who is on your mind or in the hospital or needs you to baby sit so that they can have an evening off from the kids or needs help with painting and decorating or, or, or, means you don’t compete your “to do” list. But it is a form of giving. You can give your talent. My sons Aunty does this a lot. She’s a Lawyer and helps people with legal advice for free!!!! Other friends bake gorgeous cakes and give them out to their neighbours, You can give your time and talents to minister to people, you can sow seeds by doing this. I heard T D Jakes say if you want friends be friendly, If you want love, sow love !!!
So I am not against planting seed, financial or otherwise, I am against compulsion, pressure and using the Bible to try to bully people.
Yes plant a seed. It’s good to plant seed. People you know and don’t know, Nations, family members are awaiting the results of your seeds. Farmers do it all the time and they get a harvest. Just don’t blame God if you sow because you feel pressured into doing so. Think about your seeds, where you can sow them and what you have to offer that people can benefit from.

Hello world!

Well I at the request of Claud am going to start putting some of my reverent and irrevernt observations into Blog format.

Melsx