update …

Haven’t written anything in a while. Ok, the next couple of posts will definitely not be in chronological order – think out-of-order execution (that’s me pretending to understand computer architecture). So what’s cooking? Got a US VISA this time – the interview went much smoother this time. (The first interview, being young and single apparently meant I was going to run away to America and never come back, so the lady graciously turned down my application.) The young white lady could even speak some Yoruba – asked the old woman interviewed before me how long she was going to stay in the US and when the woman appeared not to understand, she actually asked if it would be “Osu Meta” (three months). My colleagues at work felt she must have married a Nigerian – I don’t remember seeing any ring on her finger – and there are people that are just so interested in their work that they go the extra mile to do a better job. She was – how do you say it -Hot. But I’d be more interested in the “sister” in the cubicle at the other end of the hall – oops! scratch that and forget you read it 🙂 . So I am posting this from Charlotte, NC. Spent a week already in Reston, VA for the Oracle training. Two more weeks and I should be back in Nigeria. Took the Greyhound from Springfield, VA to Charlotte, NC. The whole journey took about 12 hours (we had a 2-hour stop at Richmond). The cab driver that took me from Reston to Springfield was a Yoruba man. Baba ibeji from Idanre in Ondo state. We of course chatted all the way (life, Nigeria, bills, etc). Used to be married but not any longer. Has kids and grandkids now. He’s been here since 74 (he came via the Bahamas with very little money). Went to school and graduated in 83 or so. Was working in corporate Nigeria (not corporate America) before deciding to move to the US. According to him, life is not easy here, yes there are opportunities. When you apply for a job, and they see your name and it’s unpronounceable, they just throw your application in the trash. He finally set his certificate aside, and started driving a cab. He wants to go back home as he’s had enough of just paying bills and rent. Life is not easy here. When we want to go home, we head to Wal-Mart, buy new clothes and shoes, and then they think we’ve got it made when we get to Nigeria. Collected my contact address.

Was going through “The Charlotte Observer” and came to the obituary section. Read everyone, old people, middle age, young, cancer battles lost, etc. I sometimes do this to remind myself (not that I ever forget) that sooner or later, it’s going to be my turn. I lift the following verbatim from the paper:

In Memoriam
In MEMORY OF Helen McLaughlin
Gaskey Templeton
June 3, 1921 – June 23, 2007
“I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says: ‘There, she is gone!’ ‘Gone where?’ I ask.
Gone from my sight; that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: ‘There, she is gone’, there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: ‘Here she comes!’ And that is dying.” Author Unknown
With thanks for the loving memories and for all that you did for us over the years.

We will miss you always. Phyllis, Ron, Mark, Donna, John-Morgan, and Joseph.

————————————–
Oh Lord, as I lay me down to sleep, if perchance it’s my last, forgive me all my sins, and welcome me to heaven. Amen (Tunde Itayemi)

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