Tag Archives: amazing

Your Body is Your Temple

I don’t mean that in the gym-bunny, mirror-worshipping way mind you! I mean it in a biology-is-amazing way. I genuinely am proud to be a geek when it comes to biology and how amazing it is to study. I knew I wanted to be a doctor before I understood what a career meant but I think it must be because I looked around as a tiny tot and thought, wow! Everything God has made is simply amazing. The trees, the animals, the sky, the insects…I will attempt to give you an insight about the little things (or not so little depending on your perspective) that make me so awe-inspired.

First, the atoms making all matter up. When I look at the structure of an atom and how it greatly resembles a planet, I am immediately amazed. How can something so simple and so tiny be so organised? The bit I love best are the electrons whizzing around like little moons outside of the nucleus of an atom. The fact that there is a space (albeit miniscule in human terms) between nucleus and electrons yet there is an almost unbreakably strong force holding those structures together. And the fact that when you think every small particle has millions of atoms all linked together but all quite independently holding their ground with their electrons orbiting and repelling each other, creating a little force field of protection for their little territory. Then multiply that by millions and you make a little baby whose atoms are organised in equally amazing cells.

Cells are just a feat of engineering. Google the structure of a cell and maybe look at an animation of what a cell is doing all the time. As you sit here reading this, your cells are busily functioning. Making energy from glucose, enzymes and oxygen in the mitochondria and funnelling that energy in the form of molecules called ATP where they are needed for your cell to do more stuff. As the cells work, they are making waste products and heat that they are getting rid of either into fluid around them to go ultimately into blood to be excreted mainly via the skin, lungs or kidneys. The nucleus in each tiny cell is using up some of that energy to copy your DNA either to make little proteins out in the cell fluid (cytoplasm) or copy the cell’s DNA depending on what type of cell it is.

These proteins are what run your body. Your enzymes and hormones. The building blocks to build more cells to replace those that are dying (happening all the time) or  to repair damaged worn out cells (like nerve cells you can’t make more off). The enzymes help you break down your food, absorb it into cells and then process it, making ATP for more energy. They also help you to convert hormones and other chemicals from one form or another to be used in other intricate processes. Some very important security proteins are those that control how your cells are copying their DNA and therefore multiplying – they often have names like p53. In simple terms, they spot if your cells have copied DNA wrong and the new cells are abnormal (those are the cells that either die or could potentially become uncontrollable and may become a cancer). They then stop that cell being made and destroy it. It is only when something goes wrong with these proteins that you fall victim of cancer or more accurately a tumour with the potential to become cancerous. The hormones tell your organs and glands how to function, whether to make more proteins, work harder or relax a little. Other bits like your white cells also help you fight infections by either producing poisons that kill harmful organisms or simply by wrapping themselves around the bugs and effectively imprisoning them.

I will mention cancer briefly because I find it fascinating and scary and impertinent in equal portions. Like I said, cancer is basically a mistake made at some point when making cells. Some of these defective cells will just die because they do not work well enough to process energy needed for them to survive. Some though become super-cells and not only can they make energy, they evade your bodies normal security proteins and start to multiply at a crazy high pace (fascinating!). These cells then take up space they should not normally take up and even more impressively, they somehow hijack your blood vessels by producing proteins that encourage growth of blood vessels around them so they make themselves a nice super-supply of blood, getting extra blood with all that extra glucose and oxygen to fuel their drive to multiply further (making you anaemic and breathless because you are short of oxygen). The ball of supercells (tumour) then grows and grows, taking up space and pushing your organs out of the way, making them function not as well (giving you some of the symptoms of cancer like constipation when they press on something like bowel) or blocking tubes (like the trachea in the lungs so you become breathless eventually or your bile ducts so you become jaundiced and cannot get your digestive enzymes to your tummy to allow you to digest and absorb food so you lose weight). This is the impertinence of cancer. Eventually, it replaces your normal organs and that’s when the real big problems present. That scares me because you have millions of cells all multiplying constantly and mistakes are bound to happen. It takes just one mistake that goes uncorrected and you potentially have a cancer in the making. Goodness gracious me!

Back to awesomeness though. The next thing that never fails to impress me is reproduction. You can’t escape it. People say love makes the world go round. Some say it is sex. Really, it is reproduction. From simple cell reproduction as above allowing a little baby to grow and for a body to keep functioning to actual mating and reproduction. It really is not all about sex. Even ‘simple’ beings like bacteria reproduce by exchanging DNA in a very unsexy way. Have you ever seen snails/molluscs ‘mate’ for example on nature programmes? It is so weird and amazing all at the same time. That is what binds us all living beings together. We are all programmed to reproduce to ensure our all-important DNA is preserved. So sex my friends is beyond physical lust. You are pre-programmed to want to procreate.

Babies in general are simply fabulous (take it from this paediatrician who is daily seduced by their endless charms at work). However, baby girls are a cut above the non-girls (sorry boys). When a little girl is being made, by 20 weeks of pregnancy, she already has ovaries which have made all the eggs they are ever going to make. In fact, she normally has more than she needs in her lifetime (more than one a month for all of her fertile years) and about 80% will degenerate leaving 20% of her (best) eggs ready for when she one day is ready to become a mother. A baby boy in comparison does not produce any sperm so has no capacity to reproduce. At the earliest in a healthy normal boy, sperm do not come into being until the boy is at least 9 years old. So yes, I know I am probably coming across as very feminist but hot diggity! Girls are awesome!!!

I will stop at that incredible piece of biology because I will get too excited if I carry on. When I stop and think about biology, I have all the evidence I need for God’s existence (or whatever you like to refer to that life force that controls us all whether we are willing or not). There is clearly intelligent design at play. Biology did not just happen and continue to happen. It is a true miracle and I thank God that I am human so that I can appreciate all of nature’s amazing-ness.

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My Very Own UN

My sister is (or should that be was) a social butterfly. She always had more than friends than she knew what to do with and she never had issues making new ones. A classic extrovert. I considered myself an introvert for most of my youth. Now with more self-awareness, I know I am more of an extrovert than an introvert but I am pickier than my sister, the true extrovert. Because I have been so picky, I think I have ended up with the best friends in the world.

Some of the people I am talking about might not realise how much I value their friendship or indeed that I am talking about them but I hope when I describe how fabulous they are, they will realise how great and valued their friendship is to me. When I was little and my mama was my only role model, one of the things I thought was absolutely amazing about her and her life was her array of friends. They were young and old, some local, many from far afield (and being in Yola that is quite something I tell you). Some Muslim, some Christians. Some skinny, some fat. Some beautiful, some not so beautiful. Some quiet, some loud. Many feminists like my mama. All sorts. The one unifying thing about them was that they were kind and caring, they spoke to me like I mattered and they were passionate. If she ever needed anything around the world, all she had to do was pick up the phone or send an email and the cavalry would arrive. Subconsciously, as I grew up, I think I looked for all those things in my would-be friends. I think I succeeded in developing my very own passionate, kind, caring, loving, helpful and loyal circle of friends. The inner circle is a small one compared to my mother’s but I happen to believe the best things come in small packages. I will talk about my current inner circle in no particular order as I value them all fairly equally. I won’t mention my mama and my sister but they are my best friends and are the core circle.

First one is my Ethiopian friend who I met in 2001 who I shall call Lizzie. We were in the same tutor group in Gladesmore Community School (10AH massive) and we both joined in year 10 so we had common group but our big unifier was where lived and that we had to get 2 buses to get to school. So, earlier than the other pupils, we were up and out, dragging sleepy bodies onto the 144 which I caught at the first stop in Muswell Hill and Lizzie would hop on 4 or 5 stops later in Hornsey. We were normally quiet in the 144 but by the time we got on the 41, we were awake enough to chat. It was on the 41 that I got to know Lizzie’s life story and about her very grown up relationships. At this stage, I had never had a proper boyfriend and despite having a crush at school, I wasn’t really interested in a relationship. So I lived vicariously through her. We also bonded over our love of heels (low enough to wear to school and get away from censure) and long braids. Also I have been mistaken for Ethiopian so we had a similar slim innocent look. We have remained friends over the years, closer after school than in school, through her babies and marriage, through my medical school. Lizzie was a bridesmaid at my wedding and she regularly makes the drive up to Birmingham from London to visit. Even though we had periods were we got too busy with our lives, she has remained a constant. We may drift (although not so much now) through complacency but we never fight and we are there to listen. So here is to my yummy mummy Landan friend. For being constant and loyal and inspiring me to be more glamorous and feminine.

Next is my Northern Nigerian friend who I shall call Halima. We met in 1996 in Queen’s College, Yaba Lagos and we were friends from the very beginning. It was the Hausa lessons that cemented the friendship and as we were both boarders, prep times and dinner times were there for us to foster the relationships. In another blog, I have mentioned Na’ima and I was close to a couple of other girls, 2 of whom were boarders. Halima was in a ‘House’ located all the way across the quadrangle which thinking about now wasn’t so far but during those years was enough to make visiting her during weekends a significant event. She was responsible for the one and only time I had periwinkles (the hairstyle) for Sports day in JSS2 (see blog on that). Those periwinkles make an appearance on my first ever British passport and my husband loves the photo so much he keeps it by his bedside. She was one of the only girls whose homes I would visit outside school too and I knew her family so that made her more special than many others. Post-QC, she is certainly the one who would always make an effort to come and see me whenever I went to Nigeria. I knew about her wedding as soon as she had a date in mind because she wanted me to be able to jiggle my doctor on-call to make it there.  I am so glad I did. We shared her pregnancy from across the distance too. In all these years, I do not remember ever fighting with Halima. She is probably one of the gentlest and sweetest women I know and her son and husband are so lucky she is theirs. Despite being many thousands of miles apart and despite our other friends from that era being on social media and living in close vicinity to her, Halima is the one of all that I would be able to count on today if I needed a friend in Abuja. What a sweetheart!

Then there is my Southern Nigerian friend, let’s call her Tolu. I met her through NLI which is a (NGO) Nigerian initiative to promote young accomplished Nigerians living at home and abroad to be the champions that make Nigeria great once again. NLI was in 2010, or was it 2009? I came from here and she came from the US. We bonded over our passionate pitches and speeches. Never before had I met a young woman who seemed so like me. She exuded integrity and honesty and passion. When I told my husband about her, the words I used were ‘Tolu motivates me to be a better person. I wish she lived nearby so I could be in her presence regularly’. Being next to her or chatting with her on the phone or on social media never fails to give me a positive boost. Tolu to me is everything a young Nigerian should be and she makes me so proud to be in the same circle as hers. If I could choose anyone for my baby to be like, it would be Tolu. She went through a very harrowing time a couple of years ago and being so positive and so strong, she didn’t say anything for a long time because she is that type of a person who will be everyone’s shoulder but have no shoulder to lean on herself. She has come through all of that in a way that is no less than heroic. She is generous and kind. She is a wonderful listener. She is passionate about life and justice and selfless in her outlook. Maybe I don’t want my baby girl to be like her, maybe I want to be like Tolu. Anyway, if you are reading this my love, I might not have said in so many words but your strength, honesty, passion and selflessness makes you wonder woman in my eyes and I could not be prouder of you. I hope your dreams for Nigeria and the world come through because this world is so much better for having you in it.

Following on neatly is my only fellow Iro-Nigerian, who I call Irish anyway. She is Irish in all the best ways possible except she lacks an accent being southern England-bred (sadly but she can put on a pretty good one). We went to medical school together and once again it was fate that brought us together because we met in student halls in 2004. Being the only two medics in the flat of 6, naturally we became close pretty quickly as we were together pretty much all day every day for the first 2 years of our medical school. We were up ridiculously early and gone all day. We couldn’t party any night of the week like a certain somebody we lived with. We had plenty of work and exams to keep us busy. The first thing about Irish is that she is a morning person. I am most definitely not. She would wake up at dawn even on weekends and whistle cheerfully. She had these dryer sheets that smelled of fresh laundry…even today, that lovely fresh scent equates to Irish to me. She has tremendous boobs (sorry Irish but I feel they need to be celebrated) and the loveliest bouncy hair which is NOT mousy brown as she used to claim. She is one of those friends I have never fallen out with. It’s strange to think but we don’t have fights at all. Perhaps it is because she doesn’t tend to get dragged into one of my deep philosophical conversations because she is quite squeamish with deep emotional stuff and would rather the happier topics. That is not to say that she won’t indulge me if I need to offload. She makes the best butter icing cupcakes and has managed to teach me to bake a couple of things. She loves sunflowers. That is in a nutshell Irish to me. She is little Ms Sunshine with a spine of steel underneath all the Gaelic charm. She will stand up for what she believes in and will call you out if you do something wrong but all with the sweetness of honey. She has dealt with family issues that would faze many but she remains unfazed and strong. She also has lovely blue eyes and dimples which I would give my little toes for. Oh and she gives the best hugs ever! If Tolu is the girl I want my daughter to grown up to be, Irish is the woman I want to be for my children. I want to be all sunshine and sweetness and quiet strength and I want to be charming just like her when I grow up.

Then there is my Indian friend who around birth was inadvertently called One on some documentation and that is my name for her which I shall stick to. She is the only one of my friends who is younger than I am. We met whilst I was out doing clinical experience in SEWA rural, Jhagadia – a village in Gujarat State, India. She was out there too doing field research and being the only other single girl resident in the flats on hospital grounds, we instantly gravitated to each other and became fast friends. She is a biomedical scientist. We quickly found common love in tea and laughter and feminism. We quickly fell into a routine. She would come over after ‘work’ to put her water in my fridge and we would go over to hers for tea. I would usually drape myself all over her bed and even occasionally on the cool floor for it was pregnant with heat during my 3 months there. My friendship with her is very similar to the one I have with Safa except the age difference and my having a bit more life experience. And our life stories seem to mirror each other down to meeting the ‘wrong’ boy as defined culturally but actually believing them to be our Mr Right. Unlike Safa though, she is the only one of my friends who is shorter than I am so I feel refreshing normal size next to her. One is rather fearless I think and having lived in remote Jhagadia for a whole year, she then applied for a post-graduate course in the US and off she went to live in NY. Now she is in Malawi, again independently sourced job and seems to be flourishing. What makes her so special goes beyond her fabulous tea, her wicked sense of humour and independent spirit. She is also very honest and open, kind and supportive, generous and when she loves, she gives it her all. One is going to be great someday soon. Mark my words!

Last but not least is my youngest adopted mama, Farah for today. I met her in 2009 as a lowly FY1 doctor in the crazy world of City Hospital (Birmingham). She was soon to be medical registrar and had a reputation for being brutally honest and fierce. Did that put me off? No! I love my women fierce and fearless so we became friends in the mess when I was on surgery and actually had time to go to the mess every day. I loved her unconventional ways and I think she liked me because though small and ‘quiet’ on the face of it, I gave as good as she gave and never seemed to take it personally when that sharp tongue was pointed my way. Despite the difference in years, in the hierarchical world of medicine, we remained friends over the years and have grown closer since we stopped working together. She is another one from a Muslim background who was born into the religion and though respects me for practicing, is not of the same opinions about it. I respect that despite being from a middle-eastern background, she is honest enough to say this is how ‘I’ feel about religion and all that comes with it. I love that despite that prickly first impression she gives out, she is a big old softie with a heart that is good as gold. She is loyal and supportive and she is always there for me if I need her. She wore a polka dot dress to my wedding – if for nothing else, I will love her forever. What a woman! Farah I salute you. You are one of my heroes.

There you are dear readers, my wonderful array of close companions without whom I would be less of the woman I am today. I will take this opportunity to say that for the reasons I have mentioned above and for many more that I cannot put into words, I feel privileged to have met and befriended you all. Thank you for all the love and support. I love you all.

Appreciating the Small Things in Life

I don’t know if I mentioned that I got married last year in April. I must have somewhere. We have made it through the first year baptism and we have grown as a couple so much. Of course it hasn’t been smooth sailing but I would not have expected that being that we are both passionate about what we care about, both rather opinionated and both not the types to shy away from an argument. My post is not to pretend it is all paradise, a fairy tale. Perfection. It is in fact about the opposite. About how it doesn’t have to be perfect but you can be perfectly happy especially if you stop sweating the small stuff and instead start appreciating the little things that make the relationship great.

My husband from time to time gets a little insecure (particularly after a few days of me getting increasingly irate when he is not doing his boring chores) and asks if there is anything I think is good about him. I always react with a bit of disappointment because I know what I am like and when anyone does even the littlest thing that makes me smile or happy or proud, I am the first to say it, usually using the word ‘amazing’. So this here post is to tell you about the little things the husband says and does that makes me go all  mushy inside and makes me forgive him when he does the big things that make me want to cry in anger or in frustration.

I will start with a little thing he does which always sets my day up nicely. He makes me a cup of tea or if I am lucky a sandwich for work. I will admit now I am not usually a morning person so finding that he has made time for me in the morning and so saved me some time makes me go all warm first thing in the morning. It just used to be tea in my travel mug to drink on the way to work or on weekends in a nice mug by my bedside. Today, he presented me with the flask pictured above. Not only has he made me tea, he has gone out and bought a little flask to keep it warm knowing how slowly I drink tea and how it goes cold before I get to the last drop. And the flask is in a colour I love and the writing on it is paying me a compliment. What better way to start the day I ask you? I look outside right now and it is a grey rainy Monday morning but my heart and soul are smiling like the sun is up and shining Yola-style.

The other day, he went out and came home in the early hours to find me in bed. I was curled up on my side, tensed up waiting to see if his hands were cold from being outside. Imagine the relief when he placed his warm hands on the small of my back. Better yet, his hands were covered in oil and he gave me the loveliest backrub I could have asked for. I drifted back to sleep and it was the best night’s sleep I had for over a month. That’s #2 of the small things he does. He gives me impromptu massages, backrubs, foot rub, head massage when I need them the most. When I come home after a 14-hour day at work and collapse in a heap and I am so tired I cannot muster up the energy to take off my shoes or eat dinner. In the same vein, he will also fetch my dinner and a drink and make me eat it all then when I start to doze off with my plate still in my hands, he takes it all away and even carries me up to bed. How could I help but love him?

He pays me compliments all the time. I am quite a low maintenance girl if I say so myself and I have a healthy appreciation of myself. I don’t have any great hang ups and my self-image is good. I do not need compliments but I do appreciate them. Who doesn’t? Like the compliment on the pictured flask, 4 years and counting since we met and I know he thinks I am hot. Let me be honest, I do not see myself as hot. I know some people think I am pretty, my mama and sister certainly say I am beautiful and so do my closest friends but I sort of take it for granted that they see the beauty within as well as without. I know I am not ugly and even strangers have paid the odd compliment to me. Omosede Ighile even called me beautiful many years ago when no one outside my family had ever and I won’t ever forget that compliment because those days, I was a little less self-confident and it meant a great deal. Anyway, I digress. Sorry. Some days I look in the mirror and think ‘niiiiiiice’. Some pictures I think ‘wow wee’ maybe he is right I am hot but mostly I don’t remember to look at myself because honestly I do not care how I look most of the time. He does though and what I think is too skinny to be womanly, he loves. He looks at me like I would expect a guy to look at Shakira, Jennifer Lopez or Halle Berry. He gives me a smile that I know means he thinks I am sexy and you know what, it feels damn good. Because I know with many men, after that initial honeymoon phase, they stop seeing your beauty and it all becomes boring routine. Not for my hubby. He sees my beauty even when I am at my scruffiest, usually post night shifts wreck and he tells me verbally and with his eyes. Aren’t I a lucky girl?

Linked to his complements is that he is proud of me. Not only does he think I am hot, he also thinks my brains are hot. I mean, I can’t pretend not to know I have been blessed academically. It’s all on paper from the time I was like 2. So yeah, I know I am no slouch in the intellectual department. However, being a doctor and surrounded by lots of doctors who are not just intelligent but many are in the genius sphere (unlike me), I do not feel as special as I did say back in primary school when I was the school’s big brain. But when I am around my husband or when I hear him talk about me to his friends, I go back to that happy place where my mama was bursting with pride at her baby’s academic achievements. When my sister used to tell everyone who would listen how much of a Brainiac her little sister was. He is so convinced of my intellectual prowess that he would rather listen to me prattle on about religion, nature, culture, psychology and even art than consult Professor Google or people in those fields. What is best is that despite not being medical in any way, shape or form, he swears I am the best paediatrician ever. Even after I was facing my first ever exam failure (post-grad paediatric specialisation exam, 1B). I laugh but really, I am delighted that someone has so much belief in me that even when I doubt myself, he is there to shake me back into believing and therefore being great again.

Following on from there, he likes to hold hands. Small thing #5. He is so proud to be my husband. He was proudly proclaiming that even before I agreed to be his wife. My sister and I used to try to curb his enthusiasm and point out he wasn’t even my fiancé at the time but he was irrepressible. It was ‘my wife’ this and ‘my wife’ that within the first year of our courtship. Silly man! I got used to it eventually but it took a while. Now he will get upset if I fail to hold his hand or kiss him long enough in public. I know he takes it seriously so I try but I am a shy Fulani girl. Public displays of affection (PDAs) do not come naturally. Particularly when it goes beyond a quick kiss. I still get embarrassed. Not because I am not proud of him but because I have been brought up a certain way and PDAs are a no-no in Yola. The attention it draws is just a little embarrassing for this Fulani girl. But I am working on it.

Last small thing in this post because I will be late for work otherwise. He will dance with me whenever I give the slightest sign that I am in the mood for it. As soon as I start singing a song or I start nodding my head to music, he will duet with me and he will want me to get up and do a dance. Unfortunately for him, I don’t have the energy he does after work (it is physically and mentally draining being a doctor if you are not one). So I will usually bow out after one dance but he will happily dance for me whilst I cheer him on. His energy and enthusiasm, whilst in need to curbing most of the time is an amazing quality and I might not say this to him often, it is what stops it being boring round ours and we are always up to something or the other. Keeps it all fresh and turbulent and exciting. Much better than boring which I have a very low threshold for. Might explain why I am a paediatrician. It’s a lot of things but so very rarely boring.

So there you are dear husband and dear readers. I have told you all today about some of the reasons why I love my husband so much and why despite all the big faults, I love him to bits. Tell me what little things you love about your husband/partner/lover/wife/girlfriend/fiancée too. I would love to hear it!

p.s this paragon of ‘small’ virtues is called George. My Georgey boo 😀

Do Your Little Bit of Good

Desmond Tutu says: “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

What a great saying! I fully subscribe to it. I think the world would be in a much better place if everyone believed in doing their little bit of good and did it thus creating a lot of goodness. Most of the people I meet are very good people and have really good intentions but only a few are doing anything to put their good will into action to help change the world in their little way. I suppose I am actually privileged to work in healthcare though. Nurses and doctors do so much fund-raising for charity that we almost take it for granted. Most of my work mates will have badges, hoodies, t-shirts all bought for charity. Many of them are taking part in charity runs to raise money for great causes.

Many of our amazing little patients are also into their fundraising. You may have heard about Stephen Sutton who died from cancer a few months ago. He has just been awarded a Pride of Britain award post-humously. His story has inspired so many because instead of focusing on his bad prognosis (predicted bad outcome), he thought he would raise money to help find a cure for cancer for those who have the misfortune of following in his footsteps and to support those young people and babies with cancer. Even if he had raised only a £100, it would have been amazing because of the intention behind it. The intent was to improve the lives of others when it was too late for him. The intent was to make the world better for a group of unlucky people who have or will have cancer. Great news is that he has raised £5 million pounds so far and counting and his name has been immortalised for being so brave and selfless in his time of despair and illness, for making a difference. Stephen probably never dreamt how big his fundraising page was going to be but he did what he did anyway.

Malala who has just won a Nobel Peace Prize at 17 years old and is a fellow West-Midlander is another inspiring story. Her story started out small. I am sure she never thought she would end up living in the UK making speeches that are heard all over the world and getting complimented by the likes of Barack Obama and the Queen. All she did was speak out against the injustice of being denied an education because she and her friends were unfortunate enough to be born girls in Pakistan. She got shot for her pains but instead of being cowed by the real threat of the Taliban, she remains unrepentant and continues to be the voice for her fellow oppressed girls and young women. She has inspired thousands of girls in Pakistan and Afghanistan to insist on their right to be educated. A small thing that has metamorphosed into a huge thing for so many.

My mama has an NGO that works primarily to empower women and young people. Part of what they do is provide support in setting up small businesses and training in crafts. They also help find and pay lawyers for victims of domestic violence and rape. But their manifest is unlimited really. Whatever a child, adolescent or woman needs that they can help with, they do. They have helped end many forced child-marriages; they have helped girls/women get away from abusive relatives and start up a new life. They help women who are desperate to support their children train in simple skills that will help them earn a living so they know where their next meal is coming from and know that they do not have to go from door to door, asking for hand outs. They provide extra tuition for young people struggling with their education and their prospects of employment. They provide sanitation and educate on public health issues. They have even helped a young lady locate her birth father. The work they do is not exactly earth-shattering to read about and does not make the news but I know how much good they have done for the hundreds of people who have come to them for help. I know what a lifeline they have been and continue to be for so many. They are doing the little good they can do with limited resources but it is changing the world for those around them in Yola and beyond to the rest of Adamawa state.

All of these people inspire me so much and as a result, I have made a promise to myself. I might not be anybody. I am certainly not rich nor am I famous. I am not extraordinary in anyway but I have been blessed with an amazing family, a few great friends, a fantastic job and a life mate (my husband) whose love is so uplifting. I guess you could say that I am extraordinarily blessed. So I try every day to do or say something that will do some good for someone. The best thing is that my patients are great recipients of my efforts. So many children just want positive reinforcement to shape them into lovely responsible adults. So I find something beautiful about them and tell them about it. I tell them how gorgeous their curly hair is. How special their rare blood group is. How amazing their natural red hair is. How beautiful their glasses are. How brave they are. How happy their hard work to get better makes me. How brilliant they are to do schoolwork when their health is failing. I say good morning to the cleaners that keep our hospitals clean and I smile every time I pass them in the corridors because their job is hard and their pay is small but they are absolutely essential in helping us make our patients better. I buy badges, hoodies and t-shirts for charity and I wear them with pride.

So I challenge you my dear reader. If you ever watch TV or read about someone who has done something and you feel inspired, do a little something each day to brighten up someone’s day. It doesn’t have to be big. It doesn’t have to cost you a lot of money; it doesn’t have to be recognised by anyone. As long as when you go to bed, you remember the feeling of having done something good for someone with no strings attached and fall asleep with a happy heart. Let us all do the little things that are easy and free in life and hopefully the sum total makes the world that much better.

If Music be the Food of Love

…Then I am glutton and I want it all. I look at my little nephew loving music and it melts my heart. Where it not for music, I would not be where I am today. Music of all kinds. Music that is live or recorded. Current or retro. Played through headphones or on speakers. Walkman, discman to iPod. Music punctuates the story of my life.

I have 2 cousins in the US of A. The older of the two, the girl who shares my grandmother’s name with me, plays the violin to a good standard. She probably isn’t Vanessa Mae standard but the effect her music had on me was electric. She played a piece of music I wasn’t familiar with in my room in London and it changed that room for me forever. As she coaxed the strings into song, the tune struck a chord deep within me. It was as if everything came alive. My senses turbo-charged. I wanted to lie down and close my eyes and for it never to end. I must have had a very foolish smile on my face by the time she played the last note. It was the first time I had seen her in over a decade and I didn’t know her all that well. All it took for me to love her was a piece of music that she insisted wasn’t very good. All the shyness, the reserve, the uncertainty of my relationship with her was wiped away and in its place, I felt love, kinship and trust.

I will never forget the first time I heard the flute being played live. I was in JSS2 (equivalent of year 8) in QC Lagos when one of the senior girls was called on stage to play some music. There must have been nearly 4000 girls crammed into the Hall and despite all effort throughout the rest of the special assembly, there was steady background chatter. She came on stage and as she assembled her flute, the silence began to wash across the room. She played the theme song to Disney’s Pocahontas. Have you ever listened to the score on that song? It is so beautiful. And the words amazing in their simplicity. As she played, I could feel the tears gather in the back of my throat. All the other girls must have felt the same because the silence was absolute halfway through and at the end of it all, there was a stunned silence before we all erupted into applause and hooting. From then on every time I saw her, it felt like there was a magical halo around her for me. She glowed blue to me. And although I have forgotten the names of some of the girls I sat with for years, I remember her name as clear as daylight. Talking about Disney music – I get a similar awe when I listen to ‘When you believe’ from Prince of Egypt and ‘The cycle of life’ from Lion King. Spell binding.

I had a friend in QC who used to be just a classmate. Then one day, she opened her mouth and sang in class and we were all in awe. I guess you could call me the original fan. Although I have since forgotten what the first song Esther sang in public was, I will never forget how I felt about her from that day forward. Of course it helped that she was a lovely girl anyway but in my appreciation for her talent, we became fast friends. The song I will associate with Esther for the rest of my days is ‘I love you Mummy’ which was a hit in Nigeria in the 1990s. Every time she sang that song, all the hairs on my body would stand up and all my worries and stress and unhappiness and negative thoughts would simply disappear. There was once a special assembly only a select few attended and Esther sang that song there. Apparently, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Even our Principal had tears in her eyes. I saw her as an angel. She had a golden yellow halo. She was quiet, unassuming and her smile could light up a stadium full of people. Little did I know that when I left QC in 2000, it would be the last time I would see her. She was diagnosed with cancer shortly after I left and she died a couple of years later. Like they say, the best of us die young. R.I.P Esther. What a loss to the world and especially to those who never got to experience the magical voice Esther had.

I love musicals and I have the utmost respect for the incredible talent of theatre actors and actresses who sing their hearts out night after night. My favourite musical is Catz but my absolute ever performance was back in 2001 when I went to see ‘Notre dame de Paris’ in London. The narrator man with his long blond hair and colourful blue coat looked just like all the other stars but he overshadowed them all so that by the end of the show, I was more focused on his bits than on the lead actor and actress. What made it more amazing was that his voice outshone all the female vocalists on stage and I think that is a rare quality. The tone in his voice was pure. It was like crystal in its clarity and every word resonated in my soul. The power was like no other I have seen in theatre and I literally cannot comprehend how he could work his vocal cords so hard for so long and retain its beauty. When the show was over, I did not want to leave. I felt like if I didn’t move, I could remain wrapped up in the magic of his voice forever.

Last year, my then fiancé and I went to the Stephen Lawrence memorial concert at the O2 arena and the line-up was epic. I was mostly looking forward to Emile Sande but there were numerous others I was excited about. The revelation of the night for me was the lovely Beverly Knight from Wolverhampton (which is down the road from me). I have always liked her songs and loved her personality but when she sang ‘Fallen Soldier’ on stage, I fell in love with her. It is by far the best live performance I have ever heard. I have heard the song before and thought it was ok but when dear old Bev sang it, she elevated it to new heights. Every word struck chord in my soul and I felt the tears come as I remembered all my fallen soldiers. The pitch was perfect. The sentiment suited so well to the theme of the evening. She sang her heart out and she won a fan for life. I now realise that she is probably one of the most underrated British stars. It must be because she is so understated in her manner, so personable and so approachable. She is the ultimate girl-next-door except she is more than that. She has been blessed with the most gorgeous voice. What a star!

I know some Muslims believe that modern music is on the scale of evil but I honestly could not disagree more. How could I not appreciate beauty that I believe is a gift from God? How could music which inspires me to be pure and to be kind be bad in any way? How can music which erases my sadness and stress be anything but good? How can music which promotes happiness and positivity be anything but encouraged? Life is hard enough I think so I simply cannot accept that something that makes it all better can be a bad thing. I love music and I celebrate its existence. And most of all, I thank God for music because it has been life’s saving grace more times than I can count.