Expressions of my mind
Dear friend,
This is to let you know
I will not be attending your funeral
But, as you inhale
I want you to guide me
Through the contours of your heart
Let me touch each crack and nurture each fold
With the spark it deserves and all I can while you inhale
Give me all your breath
So that when yours becomes air
My chest remains sated
May my mind never betray me
Your breath always satisfy me
Till I see you again
This Jesus Christ
That you’ve made your personal property
Positioned yourself
Like Aunty Memuna
Dishing Him out
To those you think He deserves
Hiding Him
From those you think unworthy
I have a message for you
This Jesus Christ
He is for us all
Yes, us all
You got that right
He is for us
Whose sins are out there in the open
And for us
Whose sins are in there in our hearts
He is for us all
So my brother, my sister chill
Maybe this comes as a surprise, but one thing I looked forward to moving to Germany as a student was the chance to odd job. Apart from it being a thing of satisfying curiosity, I needed the money especially when the seven thousand euros begins to run out. I was privileged to get the job connection through a neighbour of Barbara, my first German friend. Finding one had been tough particularly in the first months when my German was little to nothing. I recall a telephone convo to a packaging company and the shrill feminine voice at the other end explaining how they reserved employment for persons with fluent German skills on a job that required no verbal abilities. ☹
I did not become a housekeeper instantly either, I had an interview (in my broken German) and received confirmation later. I worked in one of German’s top hotel chains but officially employed by a hospitality agency. I did receive hotel employee benefits like lunch, joining in employee events and sorts.
I was on that job for a little over a year. I dare say, this job has been like no other. For one, it has been the only job that required my physical investment to a 100 percent. Though I did learn a lot about how the hotel industry works, I gathered some life tips on this job. I share below of these, four things I learnt on this job.
Did you know it is possible to clean a room in 15 minutes? Yes, you saw that right, in 15 minutes, to the standard required! So, until I went through this process of training as a housekeeper, cleaning was a thing I reveled in. There would be music playing, dancing, etc. basically cleaning at home, could take a chunk of my Saturday mornings. However, working as a housekeeper, I marveled at how fast cleaning tasks could be done and the little time it took to do them. Cleaning a room for new occupancy (check-in) with a single bed can take 15 minutes (some experienced housekeepers do this in less) with training. This means laying the bed with new sheets, cleaning the bathtub (or shower), wash sink, & toilet, wiping surfaces & floors, throwing rubbish out, airing the room and vacuuming. All that in 15 minutes. Can you imagine that? I couldn’t in my first days. So, the trick, I learned, was to be mindful. To be present in and on the tasks at hand. Get in there, do what you need to do, get out. No time for mind wandering. Time is essential on this job. Concentrate on the task at hand, get it done, think later, or you might take too much time on tasks and even forget to clean something.
As I said time is a key essential on this job. I learned to appreciate time better on this job. Each keeper receives a varied allocation of rooms per workday dependent on season, experience, check-ins, room-type, etc. So, when I get 15 rooms, I may have 7 check-ins which means I would have to lay 7 to 14 new beds and clean the room as if it had never been occupied. If the 8 rooms were stay-ins, I would lay the beds (change sheets if dirty) and clean the room. I would generally have 6-8 hours to get this done. Since check-ins are the priority (get paid more), I needed to apportion the needed minutes for a room, get them cleaned before check-in time which was 2 pm. Respect, in this job, was gained by getting rooms done quickly, in time, and to the satisfaction of the supervisor (quality control). I checked the time each time I entered a room finding the difference in the time I spent and learning to recover from rooms that took much time.
Being a housekeeper takes a toll on literally every part of the body. You need strong arms to lay beds to standards, bend multiple times, squat to check under beds, back and shoulders to push those trolleys, run in and out of rooms. There is so much movement and you are literally standing for most parts of the working day. This job made me lose weight without a gym subscription. In the beginning, all I did after work was sleep. After a month or two, I felt stronger with lesser fatigue. Though the cleaning chemicals were a minus, the work was a sure test of my physique. It is a job requiring a lot of physical exertion and did help me unwilling to get my physical body stronger.
I wish this had been something I learned before this job. This position gave me a hands-on insight into housekeeping. It is a challenging job mostly done by women, migrants, and persons with low societal status. The experience left me with respect and awe for housekeepers. They literally are the backbones of the hotel industry but as always never get the due recognition, never seen, never heard. It is hypocritical that I say I realised this after being a housekeeper because there is no need to walk in someone’s shoes to be empathetic to their situation. We can be kind, respectful, and empathetic when we choose to.
So, the next time you are in a hotel, kindly remember, yes, you paid for the room and have earned the right to let your pets sleep in the bed or throw toilet roll all over the room. But also remember that the more time a housekeeper spends in cleaning your room, the less money they make. What stays with most housekeepers are the acts of kindness, tips yes of course! And the people who lay their beds, clean after themselves, there are people who even leave written notes of gratitude with smileys. Yes, those are some of the acts you never forget when you have a day with 24 rooms to clean. I will also never forget my colleagues, some of who have had only this job their entire lives and will till they retire. They were some of the kindest-hearted women I ever met. They helped me a lot in the first months. They did show me a lot of kindness which warms my heart when I think of them.
Failure is a reserve for those alive. It is a privilege for those who can breathe.
Yet I find daily a need to preserve my perceived perfections, so dire no taint is permitted.
What they call the overnight success is what I beg for. The one where the night birthed in the perils of try and err is surpassed.
I honour myself and keep wishing to only wake to a dawn that beholds the new life promised.
How did I read 100 books in 2020?
I set myself an extreme ambition to read 100 books in March 2020. I have always loved reading but never seemed to have enough time to read as much as I wished. This year, however, I tried to make time for what it is that I claimed to enjoy. How did I read the 100 books?
By goal setting: I wanted to “improve my reading habits” and the obvious step was to read. However, as all other things, I claimed to enjoy I assumed reading was done when time remained from doing all the other “important things”. By setting this goal, writing it down, and also making it public, I knew there was something I had to work intently towards. I made a Facebook post about reading 100 books and asked friends to join me.
Making time: There is no time unless you make out time. As a single mom, I am pressed for time. I am careful (or try to be careful) of how I spend my time. Time is precious to me. However, setting this goal and seeking to attain it made me realize how much time I spent on unproductive events and people. One of the major time distractions for me was Social Media: Whatsapp and Instagram. I limited my time on these platforms and when I was on there I decided to be more purposeful. Establishing relationships and connecting with others as compared to mindless scrolling. I also dedicated time say at least 1 hour a day to read or listen to an audio book. I incorporated it into daily activities such as riding the bus, at the playground, cooking, cleaning, and mindless staring 😉.
Being disciplined: It took a lot of discipline to read 100 books. Sometimes I had to turn my data (internet) off or even switch my phone off. My son goes to bed at 8pm (also something of necessary discipline), and if I do not have housework or office work to attend to, I have a couple of hours say 2-4 hours before I turn in. I try to make good use of this time by doing things like reading, concentrating on reading, and not giving in to the temptation to check emails or Instagram posts.
Staying focused: “I can do this” and “I will not give up” were my guiding quotes. Fixing my focus and concentrating on the path I set was necessary. It can get overwhelming when you see other persons reading profiles and get tempted to veer towards what others are reading. As a wise woman said to me “You can’t read them all”. I focused on the books I wished to read, made a couple of guiding lists. The website Goodreads was also helpful in keeping track of what I read and wanted to read. I explored all possible book formats such as eBooks, paperbacks, audio, etc, and always had a form of a book on me all the time, on my phone or in my bag. There are many platforms where one can read books for free or download pdf versions of books. Additionally, I borrowed books from the library which is also very cost-effective.
Here is a list of books I read this year.
My five top books in no particular order
As humans our superpowers are limited. We define persons by their outward appearances and actions. We can never be privy to the deep intent of a person’s heart, even if they told us. We assume love, affection, kindness, holiness based on what we see, while God accesses people by the intent of the heart.
We like persons based on their beauty, oration, warmth, and so on and are shocked when we find out the outwardness does not match the inwardness. We latch on easily to persons that smile at us, believing that it ultimately translates to good intentions. We form bonds based on the outwardness.
A strategy of con-persons is warmth, they approach with warmth and an outwardness that suggests good intentions, but “they were so nice and friendly” shocks and hurts us when we learn their intent.
I am inspired to write this post due to a critique I saw on Facebook about the way women dress. It said women who wore dresses above the knee were promiscuous. I found that weird, a weird task of a pastor to judge the morality of girls and women based on the length of their clothes, because the gospel is not about keeping up “holy looking” appearances before people.
I think as preachers or pastors, we veer off the message of the cross when we concentrate on telling persons to work on their outward self. There is an elevation of the ability of self to perform righteously, and an advancement in the contribution of works to salvation. If all women did wear dresses to their toes, will that ultimately make the body of Christ a righteous one?
Have we been commissioned on this journey of criticism by the Holy Spirit? I believe that when God changes us, He does this on the inward and it reflects on the outward. Unless God reveals the intent of one’s heart you cannot judge them by what you see. As a human, you are limited.
God calls us all, regardless of what we look like on the outside because He is confident of His power to renew the mind and heart. He is confident He will make us into what He has envisioned us to be. Our righteousness cannot be earned, the Spirit of God through our obedience makes this righteousness evident before people.
As I undergo this process of submission to the Spirit, I realise how patient the Holy Spirit is. How even when we stumble the Holy Spirit does not give up on us or call us names or accuse us of ruining the body of Christ.
My dear friend, as humans, we are limited by what we see and cannot judge one’s relationship with God based on their clothes or earrings. Perhaps the person you are calling out is in a stage of struggle with God, perhaps they are finding their purpose and being positioned by God, you cannot understand their position by accessing outwardly, and even then, what business is it to question how God works on someone especially when you have never prayed for them. The moment you earnestly pray for spiritual growth for someone you stop critiquing their actions because your assurance is in the power of the Spirit of God.
In criticising others, we often fail to talk about our discomfort (weaknesses) and position ourselves as epitomes of perfection. It is uncomfortable, especially with a mind that runs without restrictions to have to look at persons “inappropriately” dressed. I remember being uncomfortable watching a sermon where the pastor was in very tight skinny trousers and a t-shirt showing his bulging biceps. It is easy to let the mind start to imagine all sorts of things and uncomfortable because that is not what I signed up for. Until I was able to get past my discomfort, position myself for benefit regardless of an outward appearance I limited myself from receiving this message which helped me at that moment with something I was struggling with. At this stage of maturity, I tell myself I will never allow someone’s outward appearance to limit me from receiving from God. Can I confront my discomforts, not drown my inability in blame and allow the Spirit of God to move as I confront my weaknesses, and show me His glory?
Look, we look “prim and proper” by society’s standard by grace, so please let us remember to extend this same mercy we received to others who to us are not “prim and proper”. Let us be kind to girls and women, regardless of how they dress up because they are as important to the body of Christ. All parts are important. The essence of a finger is neglected until it goes missing. Let us remember we need to approach this issue from a place of love and kindness. As you can see this method of harsh reproach has not worked and is not working. If I am wearing indecent clothing, openly shaming me on social media does nothing to increase my love for God. I will feel hurt and wonder if God loves me too especially if it is a leader of the church doing this. This social media courtroom may lead people to lose their faith in God. If it is not leading them to God, it is leading them away. Are you building the church or destroying it? Let us commit to the harder work of the inner transformation, committing to guide as siblings in love under the guidance of the Spirit of God.
God will use who He wills for what He wants, your opinion will not matter!
Nothing is impossible for God to do.
Our confidence in the Spirit of God to move mountains will be seen in how we address these issues.
Peace be unto us all.
This year has done well in teaching me about life. One major thing I had prior struggled with was rejection. I saw rejection as not good enough. Though sometimes true, I now position rejection as the hand of God, a favour of God.
Rejection is tough. I would avoid it if possible, to “preserve” the useless pride I had. I would avoid asking certain people for things or putting myself in a situation where I thought the likelihood of rejection would be high. Unanswered DMs, emails, and requests are the killers.
But rejection I have learned is the evidence that you tried. You gave it a shot.
When you position rejection as a hand of God, you ask what the purpose is.
In 2019, I submitted a couple of literary pieces for publication. I was rejected for most of them. Those emails of rejection are horrible no matter how harsh or kind a reviewer is. It is the physical thing that says ‘we cannot consider you because your writing is not good enough for us’.
However, this year, something changed. No, I have not received a thousand yes. No. What happened is I took those rejections to mean I needed to improve on my writing. I did and continue to do.
I have significantly improved. And the funny thing is when I took those pieces for which I was rejected and re-read them I realised every rejection was justified. I would not accept my own writing now in the state it was. This became clear when I improved.
There are three Bible verses to remember when it comes to rejection:
The moment life on earth is positioned from a place of purpose you will see things get much better (not easier). It gets better because you understand someone is working actively, mixing all that happens into something glorious for you. Someone who turns things around ALWAYS for your good.
A rejection does not mean give up. If what you are doing is your purpose, gives you life and you know it is what you were made on this earth for: do not give up. A wise person said the biggest fight on this earth is the one for yourself. To be other people is easy but to be that unique you is the biggest challenge: ask many pacesetters.
Many people, institutions, even your church can come against you that you try to be who you believe God has called you to be. People will say no to you even the ones you love. For when God needs work done, He will move things and people out of the way. He will not let the emotions you have for other people get in the way of what He is building for you. Just because you love someone does not limit God from his purpose, especially if your purpose will be furthered with someone else.
As you embrace rejection as the hand of God you will see how much of a favour God is doing you.
One more thing, I think it is futile to hate people or label them as bad or wicked for their rejection or spend time brooding over them for their rejection. Can you imagine Jesus after those episodes with Judas and Peter, brooding and telling everyone how the two had treated him? Cursing them and insulting them for their wickedness and betrayal? Jesus had purpose only on his mind.
He persevered with a mind focused on God, the goal before him.
In the story of life, there will be many actors, some will come your way to bless you, others will come to exalt you, others will lie about you, and some will leave you in wonder at their wickedness. It is just so.
I heard a pastor say, “God plans persecution for every Christian’s life”, perhaps harsh but true because persecution though harsh is also working out for your good and God’s glory. Consider Job, God knew everything about his persecution. What about 1 Peter 1:7? Has your faith been tested yet? God did not call you to easy but His presence is assured.
If you forget everything above, remember these two things.
‘You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.’
I am still learning, but what I know is that when rejected, it does not mean you should be immune to the pain or pretend to be strong.
Hurt, cry, pray, ask God why, and remember God is in it. He is working it out for your favour. Push on, find alternatives, find other ways, your destiny is in God’s hands.
Baba’s new sense to the things of the world were unrivaled. He liked every part of him to be a part of everything that went through him or around him. I particularly liked the way he dressed now. His brown shoes which suffered a few wrinkles from the moisture of the years shone each time he came to pick me up in the morning for school. His self-ascribed uniform was a short-sleeved white shirt and blue-black pair of polyester trousers deeply starched with ironed edges that would remain standing after a hug from an elephant. Even though his teeth had been stained from regular bouts of chewing cola the one gold tooth he had now made it all look perfect to me. Baba broadly showed me all the 32 when he asked me how I and everyone else in the family was doing and if we had a good night. After school, mostly on the pay-days, he would drive by Aunty Memuna’s sandwich shop to treat himself and I to sandwiches. When they came, he would say loudly “b-ismi-llāh-ir-raḥmān-ir-raḥīm “, take a sniff, admire the sandwich before he would take a bite. And when he did, his eyes closed, he allowed all the thousands of taste buds on his tongue to work, to bring to him what each portion of the morsel tasted like. Aunty Memuna and I would wait for his first bite, like he had trained himself, he could tell exactly what surprise Aunty Memuna had in the sandwich which always left her in amazing laughter and extra sandwiches at no cost. And this was only a tiny thing Baba could do. Once Madam Franca, my French teacher, joined us for a lift to town. Baba told Madam the name of the perfume she used and what the inspiration elements for the perfume were. Baba told me after Madame alighted with surprise and smiles on her face at her junction that Madame had resprayed the perfume on her to musk a certain smell. Baba said the smell was something for adults to discuss.
That evening when I told Mama about Madam Franca, she said Baba’s new life made him see the world in a different way. So, I asked him the next morning what it was he saw. Baba smiled and said I followed the light that has always been in me. He told me the world is such a beautiful place if we allow it to be. The next time we went to Aunty Memuna’s, I asked her to surprise me too. I did it just as Baba did, prayed, sniffed, though I failed to smell something at all. Baba watched me as I took my first bite grinning. Aunty Memuna watched me in anticipation. Everything tasted the same to me the tomatoes, salad, meat and bread were the same. Baba pat me on my shoulder and said it takes time Ali It takes time.
Enraged, the questions, “Why can’t white people leave black people alone?” “Why can’t white people end the hatred and wickedness that now looks like it is genetically infused and transfused per blood from parent to child to black people” mount in my mind. They multiply, are edited, but the answers never come. Each year, the same questions, the answers, unsuccessful. And now, in this concise post which is incapable of holding all my thoughts on racism, I share some understandings of how white people even the nicest ones raise racists.
My first personal scrape with racism happened on my move to Germany, even on the Lufthansa flight. The white waitress believed she was doing me a favour by providing me for a service I paid. She treated me differently from the white man seated by me. Anyway, I moved to East Germany, former German Democratic Republic, the place mostly intolerant to anything foreign unless it is food and sex. I was shielded by being part of a student community, on a campus and in a University town. But this region is the headquarters of PEGIDA (you can google that), an organisation that started in the same year I moved to Germany. They go on regular protests and when they happen, we stay indoors. They are against Islam, foreigners, refugees, and anyone else who is not pure-bred white German. They believe that in speaking up against all the things they hate, instead of speaking up to the real problems they face in that region and the injustices they suffer as a bulk of industries are in west Germany, they make sure the dignity of their heritage is maintained. Ask what this honorable heritage is.
The thing is: each city I moved to, I experienced something, some form of rudeness, some form of wickedness, some form of hatred, even in West Germany I experienced the worst and hopefully the worst from neighbors who harassed me and were supported by the house administration. I also experienced other forms of racism from my son’s father’s family which I reserve for a future post.
I came to Germany with an open mind. I knew of racism had not prepared myself for it. The Germans I knew before coming to Germany were missionaries. I was naive. I thought most or all Germans were open minded, receptive of all races. I learnt the truth by burning myself in all the wrong ways. Last year, I had a conversation with a colleague, she (white) believed race tolerance was getting better, people were more receptive (how could she know? She is white). I argued the opposite, that people are rather now intolerant than 30 years ago even when the world is supposedly closer . As many as there are of persons advocating for freedom of the sexes, gender, etc. how many laws and legal instruments have been passed in the past decade against the injustices of black people? The disrespect white people and others have for black people is unwarranted and shameful.
How do you remain that proud of the injustices and murders your great-great-grandparents have caused for generations on black people and stay justified enough to pass it on to your children? As a parent, it becomes clearer how these biases are passed on to their children, for example through education structures that label heroes as those who destroyed, killed, manipulated others in their homes or through simple rhymes that do glorious storytelling and sing about other nationalities. I ask myself what essentially is for example the popular folk-song “Drei Chinesen” to teach children. Yes, it is to teach them vowels, but is that the only way children can learn vowels, by singing about the Chinese? The song lyrics says three Chinese with the contra-bass sitting on the street and having a conversation. Then came the police and asked them what that is. Three Chinese with the contrabass. The first time I heard it I knew it was wrong. Why should the police walk up to them? This song is passed on to children as early as 1 where the inherent message sinks in and is affirmed in school with gallant stories of heroes who civilized the uncivilized and how that makes them glorious and the know all. No song is just a silly song unless you wish to nurture silliness in your children. Another song “Ein Mann, der sich Kolumbus nannt”, lyrics here, is an over glorious storytelling of Columbus, a hero who discovers America where the people there yell in delight “We’ve been discovered” which we know is false.
Why can’t you make your children sing about apples, bananas, dogs, and cats like everyone else? These things start so early. There are many children whose parents never tell them there exist other races apart from the white race. When they see a black person, they stare at them and ask why they are like that, while their parents look away or say something like they are (beautiful) people too. Let us never forget, even nice people raise racists, even the well-meaning can raise racists unless they are intentional about addressing racism in their home.
Some years ago, one of the nicest people invited me over for dinner where I made a Ghanaian dish for them. When one child saw me eat with my hands, he made vomit sounds and said what I did was disgusting: eating with my hands. At the age of 8, no one had taught him to have an appreciation of other cultures and that no culture was supreme, not even his. I could go on ranting into a book. Maybe I should but not today.
Racism is believing that this world space is not enough for blacks and whites. That whites need to claim superiority over blacks by heralding ownership over blacks and making all crimes against blacks’ honorary badges for generations to come.
How will racism end? When all white people accept that they are racist and everything they have is built on their oppression of minorities and strive to address it.
That is when freedom starts for us all, blacks and whites.
