What MY HEART needs to know…TWC’17.


They say “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” I-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g! Would that be through food or tummy rub? Hmm. Just thinking-out-loud here!  #TimeToRefresh

I am yet to come across the proverb about the way to a woman’s heart, or is the way INTO her more important? flowers? empty promises? trust?  #TimeToRenew

But a woman’s heartfelt emotions never lie, even though she hides the bruises under her sleeves, her heart never stops beating, even when crushed by mere words. #TimeToRestore

In my Aunt’s house in Port Harcourt, where I spent my young adult life while in the University…’there is a huge kitchen, women around the kitchen table and topics that turns heads.

Young and vibrant as I was then, I couldn’t wait to fall in love and prove to them that their talk was cheap…or so I thought!

In that kitchen, there were always women who came to visit my Aunt from different walks of life for motherly advice: There were the single and high maintenance, married and moody, separated, divorced, recently rejected, frequently abused, hidden scar carrier from youth, runaway bride and complicated relationships.

Some came glamorously dressed in their flashy cars while some had to trek or take public transportation with a cranky crying baby strapped on their back. They were always inside the kitchen talking or standing by the sink wiping away tears.

And in the hearts of those women, there was always CONFUSION, HELPLESSNESS & FEAR.

Fear that this time around that mastered recipe of life won’t work for their current circumstances.

That the man who promises love and life would never propose! Or think they are not good enough!

That the single young adult girl will walk down the aisle only when she’s ready, and not when the society dictates or  calculates her biological clock!

That the man in their life will leave his meal unfinished and their marital bed untouched!

That the man they think they know will soon find pleasure in someone else’s arms or home!

That probably she has served him too much affection or not enough. That he is already too full of life, or hungry for something or someone else, and that it will be their fault.

That the womb that’s been praised so much would begin to alert restless in-laws to raise eyebrows and question the delay of childbirth or the loss of a baby?

That the wide beaded hips that swayed to the beats of the drum he so much-loved to hold would never carry the weight of his off springs?

That her place and destiny to propel would never be supported due to His insecurity or male chauvinism!

That the cold hands of death would ever separate them… so soon!

Matters of the heart of a woman may be hidden or tucked away behind the soft succulent tissues of her bosom; covered with fancy fabric woven with care, but also attacked by the  fingers that created the woolen fabric!

I don’t know about you, but for me, I want my heart to know it is okay to heal and beat again… ‘that just like any woman reading this right now to know that:  Hidden behind my skin so fair, soft and tender, that part which has been cracked once and still healing is finally ready to show the world… ‘I GOT THIS” by God’s grace!

So, as we begin to countdown to the upcoming TWC’17 on April 27th to April 29th 2017, permit me to indulge you in some surprises in store: IMG-20170330-WA0012

What should YOUR HEART expect at TWC’17 ?

  • That its time to put the past behind you and…’REFRESH, RENEW & RESTORE

  • Relax in a luxurious 2 night stay at a beautiful golf resort/conference center

  • Get served Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner…’just as you like it!

  • Participate in a One-on-One counselling to discuss those topics we keep locked up

  • Engage in Me-Healing sessions: Will I be heard? Who gets what I am going through?

  • Listen to inspiring ministration from speakers and worship team

  • Indulge in Girls night!! Shhhhhhhh. It’s a surprise! #WeGotGameNight

  • Comedy night.., ’maybe laughter and good jokes is really all a girl needs to warm up her heart! #GuessWho’sComingTonight #FemiObama

  • Workshops & Breakout sessions

  • Support group building and bonding for challenging workplace issues

  • Morning power-walk and Zumba session

  • Share your story and inspire others… #ShareYourStoryInPhilly

As you read this, ask yourself…  ‘What is a valued centerpiece in my heart? Is my heart an arbitrary harbor of commotion? A solitary confinement for hope…ONLY I bear the burden deep inside as I suffer and smile to portray a perfection that is nonexistent? Does anyone care?

Have you ever considered that perhaps God isn’t longing for you to come to Him with perfect, polished prayers, with fifty-cent words and flowery language? Have you thought about the pleasure God experiences when you simply approach him just as you are, fragments, bruises, warts and all, because He loves you? He delights in your attention. He takes pleasure when you come to Him simply because you are His.

Total Woman Movement has a spot waiting for you. Join the movement today! www.totalwomanmovement.com

Yours in HOPE



Friday Night Conversation With Yinka – collection of short stories: (Terms of Endearment Part Four)

Continued from Part Three, published on: Oct 25th 2014


termsPart 4.

But for the so-called village counselors or small chiefs who usually comes around, using their walking sticks to trot like they are next in line for a coronation! Proudly telling anyone who care to listen about the lands and farms they own and how they have managed to raise the foundation or have plastered the walls of an un-completed boy’s quarter. The self-acclaimed landlords who by the way, still cannot afford to buy his newspaper!

Eeeoo! What a pity!”Hmmm, he’s dead too? One of them would start, and the others will carry through with their usual pity party monologue – all still holding on to the newspaper, the obituary column-page spread wide open in front of them as one of them quickly writes down the address of the burial ceremony’s evening gathering. Pa Sammy calls them the “The Obituary crashers” and would quickly advance forward, snatch the newspaper from them and ask for payment first or just place the paper down and ignore their questioning looks.

He’d learn the hard way. When he first started the newspaper vendor business, he’d been so loyal to a point, allowing passer-by to engage him in distracted conversation while they quickly glance at the news headlines – without making them pay for the whole newspaper. Getting home, he’d informed his wife, Mama Ovie that sales was slow, she’d cursed him out for being a bad trader, regarded him hopeless and had compared him to all the other successful men doing well in their village. After all, he should have been a good school teacher, articulately adorned in khaki shorts, white starched shirt and a cane! not a vendor! Useless paper man!, she would say and begin to cower as she sulks. A usual trait of hers.

Pa Sammy’s mind was set today. He needed to resolve the issue of cooperative trade he had started with his partner. He had been saving up for a while and had almost gone into shock when he realized that his only son Osa had been taking money from the brown envelope he had kept secretly inside the empty tin of bournvita,  hidden inside Mama Ovie’s old wedding dress and accessories box – a place he figured no one will ever visit, after all, what will she be looking for in her forgotten portmanteau of over 20 years! Filled with about 2 dozens of camphor! He felt it was a safe place to hide his money. He was mistaken and broken-hearted.

But last night, the embarrassment he’d witnessed was too much for him. Disturbed and confused, Nengi, their landlord’s daughter had quickly rushed in to call for help as Osa was involved in another gang fight by the second gate entrance of the College of Education. He was under arrest again, the 9th time this year!

What was Osa doing there? Wasn’t he supposed to be out-of-town? In the seminary? Father Peter from their church had assured him that since Osa had no intention of pursing his education, it will benefit him to sign up for servitude at the seminary in Eleme junction, miles away from the city. Hopefully taking him away from distraction could help him settle down and focus on God. Pa Sammy was elated at the news of Osa in the seminary. Osa had caused him so much heart ache and disgrace. All he needed now was for him to leave and go somewhere for a while, well to a place where He could discover God and change his ways.

But the seminary could not hold Osa down either.

Just last month the corporative fee, He’d taken some loan to start another lucrative small business of paying his landlord’s son, Soki to help him in buying a bale of overseas used clothing. According to most of his newspaper customers and the stories from around the motor park, that was the best business to invest in now, especially around on campus.

They say campus students always have lots of pocket-money on them. They want to keep up with fashion and new trends and would spend their last money on a pair of new stoned washed jeans or a t-shirt that reads I LOVE NY! – Rather than buy a newspaper that tells of the horror happening within their country. His mind was made up and he was going to surprise his wife and also convince her that he’s getting prosperous in his choice of business. And she would be so impressed, will begin to dance, Oh! The native dance would melt his heart.

Mama Ovie is a very good dancer when she’s happy, and then she would rock his bald head in the cradle of her soft palm and sing some sweet songs of praises in their native dialect and then cook him his favorite dish. Yam pepper soup on the side and then later, bitter leaf soup with giant green periwinkle over steaming starch. And they will eat together from one bowl, feeding each other, laughing together and for one moment, forget about the troubles of Osa, and maybe even forget about Ovie and her so-many dramatic tale-telling and fake life…ah!

Where and how these students get their money from, is still a mystery to him. ‘Pa Sammy’, eh, listen very well…eh, you don’t need to bother yourself o, eh, on how they get the money, you just sell to them, and always say its first grade” Soki had coached him the first time he received his goods. “In fact, eh, you can even say, eh, your brother in overseas is the supplier, ok ” He’d ended that line with a very disturbing laughter that confused Pa Sammy.

Was he making the right decision? Should he use the money to bail Osa? Should he use the money for investment, in his new business? Or should he just catch the next bus going to the university to discuss it with Ovie? Would Ovie acknowledge him? In the midst of confusion within his mind, a sudden rush of crowd emerged towards him as he…To be continued

Written by Yinka.