Thursday, August 25, 2011

Clogs to clogs is only three generations ..or not

This saying just came to mind , and i remember my mother always repeating this to us as kids (my mum was the master of pound it in!), she explained what it meant and i understood, but i always wondered how that applied to us after all we were not even rich!.Let me explain the reasoning behind the saying.

Clogs are shoes with a thick wooden sole, and were commonly used by factory and other manual workers in the north of England. This saying portends that seldom do  three descents continue well. According to a Scottish proverb, 'The Father buys, the Son biggs [builds], The Grandchild sells, and his Son thiggs [begs]'.‘From clogs to clogs is only three generations.’ is a Lancashire proverb, implying that, however rich a poor man may eventually become, his great-grandson will certainly fall back to poverty and ‘clogs’. 

Wooden clogs, quite different from the fashionable clogs we know



There is certainly some truth in this saying because we do see it all around us especially with super rich folks.I think now that mum must have been on to something,you see both her parents were literate farmers, they lived well ( at least according to the standard of living they had in the village) back then. Things became tough when my mum decided she was not cut out for farming and wanted to pursue her education beyond secondary level which was considered good enough in those days. Being from a polygamous home where there were many other children, and being female, my mum didn't stand a chance of getting her dad to pay for that 'indulgence'. So my grandmother trained her only child up to tertiary level by the sweat of her brow. it is now evident that due to that singular decision, we the next generation, are heads and shoulders above our contemporaries in the family. I am now thinking that mum might have wondered if this saying applied to us or maybe she was trying to teach us a lesson only ( i ought to ask her one of these days). Whatever that saying meant to her, there is ample evidence that there is no cause to worry, our story will never be like that...so clogs to clogs in three generations?..nah..i beg to differ.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Katsaridaphobia

Sometime ago, i was at a gathering, and this is what happened, ... I stood up from a group in a room, smiled shyly, gave a small wave and say " Hi my name is Jemima and i am Katsaridaphobic " , and the group response to me is "welcome Jemima" ( I kid, I kid!)  ..my reality is not an addiction, but a fear, i am afraid, no, not afraid,  i have a dread of Cockroaches, i know that sounds stupid ( you mean that itsy bitsy insect?), yes,its true. I have sometimes imagined that there should be a group to help deal with this fear (seriously?). I hate and fear cockroaches,  its sadly true,  i am unable to stay in the same room with a cockroach unless i am strapped down, and i don't scare easily (i once struggled with a robber because he tried to take my wedding ring, i figured since i did not see a gun he could not have it, my husband had to scream at me to give it to him,) well he slapped me thrice too ( stupid i know), but that's how high my fear threshold is. but i am afraid of one insect (duh!).. i leave the room immediately no matter what i was doing before, whether i am at my desk at work or cooking a meal. Just thinking about those brown,disgusting creatures make me sick to my stomach, and its not a fear of insects generally, ( i read on the net that could be the problem), i am not afraid of any other insect even bees! (okay maybe just a little afraid or disgusted sometimes), but whenever i see a roach, my brain freezes and i feel like i am in mortal danger, and unless someone i trust like my husband is in the room with me, my first instinct is to leave that room fast!( and not quietly mind you) . I can sense when they are in a room , i know the sound of a roach crawling ( insane, yes i know), and i know the sound they make when they fly ..yuck!. I would sooner run out of a building entirely than kill one, i can however attempt to kill one if i am quoting scriptures, if its the tiny specie or if its not flying. They only time i ran towards (instead of away) a roach that i remember, was when, one time i spotted one on my son's bed , i quickly ran and carried my sleeping son from the bed without even thinking about it (that was a selfless act of bravery, believe me) , mother's instinct, i believe its called. And don't get me started about my reaction when its the flying kind of roach, my thoughts are usually along the lines of .... it's a demon , yikes!, i think its almost spiritual the way those things are always appearing to me, because it seems cockroaches know i hate them and come after me! (MFM anyone?). I actually know what started this fear, but  that is a post for another day.


 I decided to blog about this fear because, one night a few months ago, at about 2 am,  i was sound asleep ( honest) , when i heard the familiar sound of the dreaded CRAWL, that piqued my ears and i waited, certain, it was my paranoid self acting up again. As soon as i felt the lightest crawl up my leg (yes, it had to be MY leg)  i let out a blood curdling scream, put on the lights and bolted for the door, all in the same movement. My poor frazzled husband held me tightly in his arms, certain i was having a terrible nightmare, i said through gritted teeth " baby let go of me, there is a cockroach on our bed" , he did so immediately and tried to find the roach ( my husband has long ago given up on trying to convince me that roaches are harmless ) , he just becomes my knight in shiny armour and kills any one he sees because of me :-), turns out he couldn't find the roach so he appealed to me to come back to bed, since it was 2 am and he reminded me he was with me and would kill the roach if it resurfaced. I reluctantly agreed and did one more check for good measure and then, there at the exact spot under the covers where i would have lain was the disgusting creature ( see... roaches stalk me!). Without a word i grab my son from his bed and make for the sitting room , nothing hubby said at that point got through to me, because again it escaped, so my husband spayed the room with insecticide and shut the door (poor guy) . So i spent that night in my sitting room with mosquitoes singing in my ears, ( i spray our bedroom everyday partly because of the hate for mosquitoes and the fear of roaches ..go figure) , if it's not one thing it's another, i lay there thinking of my warm cozy bed and tried hard to fall asleep again, hubby and son slept in the sitting room with me out of solidarity ( well, hubby anyway, since son was fast asleep, and  didn't even know what was going on). As i lay on one of our sofas, i thought to my self "this has gone way out of control, maybe i should go to church and get deliverance done for me for this"..o dear!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The art of Soliloquy

I talk to my self, a lot, and it runs in my family,  all my siblings soliloquize,( my mum used to have fits whenever she caught any of us in the act ) , she would say * "ye ba ara e soro, eni to ban siwin lo man soro si ara e" *, i remember how my brother D would always reply her, if he was the one she was referring to " mum it's called soliloquy"...... its funny how some habits seem to persist, even after years of trying  to get rid of it. As a child, i spoke to my self when i was bored , i am told it is normal for kids , i know my son does it, being an only child ( God i hope he did not inherit that gene) , i would carry on a conversation with myself for as long as no one disturbed me.



I also invented play mates and named them. Now as an adult i am prone to thinking aloud, sometimes it can get embarrassing, and often times, i have had to pretend that i was singing or just have the decency to look, well... "caught in the act" .The worst scenario is when i am hurt and traumatized about something, i could carry on a conversation with myself on the streets and not give a hoot about the next person. The funniest thing is that i hardly consider it  a problem , until people complain and as there have been several complaints recently,  I am making an effort nowadays to curb this"well loved habit", but you know what they say about old habits and dying...

* Yoruba language for : stop talking to your self, only mad people soliloquize*

Monday, August 22, 2011

I have been thinking

I have wanted to start a blog for the longest of time, for years actually, but i was convinced i would "chicken" out and not follow through and stop blogging after a few months...my history has it, that i kept a diary faithfully for many years, and you know i still cannot believe that i have not been able to continue since i got married 5 plus years ago ( o, how i struggled to continue)..or a worse reason would be that my blog would not make any sense whatsoever (yikes!) talk about self esteem issues, i keep telling myself "its a blog, its nothing serious"...  , but the part of my brain that has the melancholic imprint on it takes over, then i develop cold feet...i actually debated with myself for days after deciding to start this blog, whether or not  i should make this blog private, until i had a better idea..which is to blog with a name i am not well known by ( except for a few people of course) ,so make sense or not , nobody knows the real me anyway. This is my first official entry in my blog.. Welcome to my World!

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