NINE THINGS EVERY SINGLE MOTHER MUST ADHERE TO IN LIFE

 

NINE THINGS EVERY SINGLE MOTHER MUST ADHERE TO IN LIFE

Being a single mother does not make a woman weak or a dependent. Actually, there are very many successful women of the world today, who happen to be single mothers, yet they did not allow this single parent status to derail them in into their rich and prosperous lives. Therefore, the rest of us single mothers need not burry our lives in victim mentality but instead, we should look up to those who have paved way for us, with the knowledge that we too can make It, if we put our minds to it. Success does not come on a wishful platter of gold, for anyone who craves for it.

Moreover, success is not only financial, but rather it encompasses the general health and wealth of an individual. This means that, if your heart and soul is right, then your entire aspect of life will follow suit. Consequently, every single mother should adhere to the following ideologies in life, for a victorious future, although the fronted ideas are not necessarily presented in a chronological order.

Firstly, single mothers must avoid toxic people, as they low vibrational, insecure, and with low self-esteem, whose sabotaging behaviours can completely weaken and destroy their already fragile foundation. Similarly, toxic people are prone to projecting their negative or pessimistic views onto others. Hence, it is important for single mothers to keep the toxic at bay, in order maintain their love, peace, and happiness.

Further, single mothers should buy and safeguard material wealth for their sons and daughters. As a single mother, one cannot afford to just sit and wait for the child support check to come in the mail every month. Rather, it is also important that you work hard, for the security of your children. Again, do not be too dependent on that child support check, for you can never predict the future and what it brings. In any case, you need to always hope for the best in life but also expect the worst possible scenarios.

Additionally, loss is an unpredictable phenomenon that can occur suddenly. Death can happen at any moment, and a single mother must be well prepared for such kind of a loss. Also, a single mother should write a will and testament for her children, before her time on earth runs out. Life is not guaranteed, despite what our motivational or prosperity teachers tell us. Besides, no one knows when God will decide to call us home. So then dear mothers, craft your will as soon as you are able to and make it a priority, by engaging a law firm to legally secure it before the inevitable happens.

On another note, do not deny your child's father his visitation rights. On the contrary, permit him to have a relationship with his children, albeit on a time plan. Equally, keep your issues to yourself, and present a united front when around your children. It may be hard to do, especially when you are dealing with a toxic human being. Yet, for the sake of your children, try and remain cordial with your ex-partner, while co-parenting.

Most importantly, I urge all you single mothers to not go fishing into your past. Do yourself a favour and move on into your pleasant future. Let the past go and the past people go too. Leave the drama and toxicity behind. Forgive and forget. Love people from afar and not any further. Ultimately, when love finds you, embrace it as a gift from God. Moreover, accept a soul mate who loves and respect you. Do not entangle yourself in polygamous relationships, for you will be prone to domestic altercations, which not only negatively affect you but your children as well. 

What's more, purpose to love yourself enough to create a "me" time every single day. Do not allow a busy schedule to deny you free time you need to give to yourself. Hire helping hands when and if you can, so that you may take a moment to breath. Also, do not why away from asking for help. But if you do not ask for help, you will experience burn out that will affect your health.

On destiny matters, make it your mission to find your lifelong purpose. This is the most important of quests you must embark on, as soon as you come to the realisation of what God has called you to be. Being a single mother should not deter you from finding your destiny. God does not cancel out your destiny on account of you being a single parent. You too cannot write yourself off your purpose, no matter how hard you try. Therefore, make finding your purpose a priority, by seeking God for His direction into your destiny.

In terms of love, you are required to love intentionally, and particularly so yourself, as well as your beloved children. Let them know just how much you love them, with both your words, as well as your actions. It may look or sound foolish, especially when you repetitively tell your kids how much you love them, yet this frequent action on your part will surely register in their subconscious mind that they are loved, and therefore bloom because of your love for them. So, go ahead and put your love into practice, and watch to see it bear healthy fruits.

Finally, pray everyday. Make time for prayer. Commune daily with your maker. Also, hold on to God, for He is your ultimate helping hand. God is a loyal and a friend in times of trouble. You need all the help you can get, and God is your go-to source, when you have no arrows left on your quiver. As a single parent, your relationship with God is absolutely crucial. Forget about the opinions of people, who cannot add a strand of hair on your head. Instead, create a solid bond with your Creator, and He will be too loyal to never leave nor forsake you.

A WEDDING CONTROVERSY

 

A WEDDING CONTROVERSY

My cousin Trina wants to do the unthinkable and marry herself in a sologamous union. She swears that she has found no man on earth befitting of her, and that everybody she knows is single, and in practice of sologamy. After fourty years of singletude, Trina has decided to make a solemn vow, which will involve her taking a leap of faith, and committing fully to herself until death. Honestly, I find it hard to believe that Trina would obligate to anything or anyone for that matter, for she is as slippery as an eel.

Nonetheless, this is not even the worst part of her new found life path. Now Trina wants to include me in her sologamous event, as a witness. She has it figured out that since I am a woke individual, I should be on board with this lunacy, by accompanying her to our new China-made village, in order to announce to our conservative relatives about her impending nuptials. Sincerely speaking, most folks in my clan are weird. I thought I was the loonie of the family, breaking all the sacred rules but Trina makes my rebellion to look and feel like child's play.

This Trina woman is uniquely absurd, having been almost a bride way too many times, I guess she has given up on dream of becoming someone's wife, a position that clashes with her career, as well as her free spirited hippie lifestyle. As a matter of fact, Trina wants a union which does not include an overbearing husband, and a bunch of hostile children. Moreover, she cannot co-exist with humans within a house context. She finds this living arrangement not only to be extremely difficult but too suffocating as well, and thus would rather rent a hotel for weeks, than share a living space with anybody.

Furthermore, Trina does not stay in one place for long, and when a decent man whispers marriage in her ear, and attempts to tie the knot with her, she immediately transforms into a runaway bride, and does a sprint toward the hills. I do believe that Trina has accepted who she is, a non-commital Afropean, who would rather be alone than with herself. What is more, Trina wants to audaciously announce to her rigid clansmen of her solo marriage act, while tagging me along to solidify her folly. Unfortunately for me, I am loyal to her as she is to me, and for that reason alone, I will risk it all, and hesitantly accompany her to the village, for moral support.

Yet, before I throw caution to the wind and openly encourage Trina on her new-found life path, I have a myriad of questions for her, of which I will avoid asking on this platform, so as not to violate any community guidelines. Anyway, Trina has infinite ideas for her big day. Firstly, she wants old school jams, to play on heavy rotation during her sologamous event. Next, she wants her wedding gown to be an azure kaftan, with matching khaki pants underneath.

I am certain that Trina just wants to be the talk of the town, and a shock factor, causing her uncles to cringe, while killing her mother in the process, and letting me take the blame for aiding her unorthodox stunts. As a result, I have to step in and be the voice of reason, amidst this sheer marriage mania. Besides, this is not the first stunt Trina has pulled on us, for she has had her firsts of many comical moments. Firstly, she legally changed her name from Lilibeth to Trina, for a global appeal, which to me was the most ludicrous thing she ever did. Then she travelled abroad and brought back the first Caucasian man to ever grace our Chinese-improved village since independence, only to leave the piteous foreigner on red at the altar, citing irreconcilable differences.

Furthermore, she lived as a hippie, galivanting across the world, embarking on her Gulliver's travels. In the recent past, she had converted to Mormonism just because. Now, she wants to marry herself. I wonder what next ideology she will pull out of her free-spirited hat. By the way, could she not rely upon her righteous family for moral support? Why did she have to pick me as a witness in her insane endeavour? Or am I the poster child for everything queer? Now Trina wants me to use my negotiation skills, to convince the local orthodox priest, in our China village, to conduct the eccentric ceremony in our local parish, as part of my maiden duties.

This is where I draw the line, and instead offer a counter-suggestion of contacting those open-minded pastors operating online, for there was no way I was going to persuade a catholic priest to confer this wildness in his diocese, unless Trina was planning on marrying Christ Himself. Besides, I already had too many transgressions I needed to repent of, and not add to my long list of sinful acts. Perhaps lunacy does run in our family, and Trina has had it worse than me, because which other explanation is there for her erratic behaviours?

Perhaps she is having an existential crisis, or worse, pre-menopausal symptoms, anything to make sense of this odd idea in her head. Meanwhile, I am trying to come up with a rational solution to this Trina situation, before she makes the sologamy announcement. I am thinking that it would be ideal to postpone the wedding, until all parties are on board with this new tradition, of which I highly doubt of its possibility. Alternatively, I could convince Trina to throw a huge party on the Indian ocean, far away from our neo-oriental village, with an online ordained pastor, alongside her close knit woke friends.

I will further influence her on the need to have a spiritual birth in the hope that a spiritual cleanse will activate her heart to find God. This second idea is most plausible and best suited to Trina's ever-changing ideological mind, and therefore I pray for a miracle, or else I am doomed.

MY AFRO-SHENGHEN MEMOIRS: THE CASE OF JUNGLE FEVER

 

MY AFRO-SHENGHEN MEMOIRS: THE CASE OF JUNGLE FEVER

You people do not know this but yours truly has been had herself a Euromance. This is not to say that I have been to Europe, although I hope to travel to the west world one sweet day. However, yours truly has been on a few dates with several Caucasians during her wild days. Well, my dating a Euro man is not a big deal, yet I feel I must share my life journeys, for I am one heck of a story teller, so brace yourselves for this epic a day in the life of Betty Baijun moments.

Like the rest of my Afro descendants, I too was struck by the jungle fever. Normally this malady tends to occur especially in our twenties, where we live vicariously through our passions and dreams. One beautiful bright day, while I was absorbing the African sun, and minding community business, as it is normal in this side of the Sahara, I bumped into one Euro-blooded man. Well, I cannot really remember his name as such but for the purpose of this juicy piece, let me baptize him as Julio.

Come to think of it, Julio was not my first white rodeo. Actually, there had been several Euro males in the scene well before him but they were all touch and go, pun very much intended. Nonetheless, Julio was most memorable of them all. Back to the meat of the story, so there I was soaking up the mid-morning sun, when Julio dropped on my lap, by means of a casual introduction through a mutual friend. Needless to say, he too was immediately struck by the jungle fever, as I was.

Therefore, he asked me out on a date and I thought to myself, "Why not?" After all, we were both exotic spring chicken, hence we decided to make hay while the sun still shone on our youthful heads, long before we could live to regret our reckless actions and forgive ourselves later in life. Consequently, we both embarked on a few memorable dates, where Julio shared with me some of his tall tales about his Spanish roots, while I enjoyed all the perks that came with dating a big boss.

Moreover, he was well off, and his flirty complements made me all giddy inside. Nonetheless, our first date was not a breeze, for he had all his European posse out there in his bourgie drinking hole, gawking at me like a locally prized heifer at an international trade fair. At first, I had a mind to tell them off but reluctantly held back, not wanting to impulsively show my claws ahead of time. Besides, we were all legal aliens at the time, and a bar fight would have tarnished my beautiful image, as well as my budding career.

Thus, I kept it classy, and let them gawk at me to their fill. Our second date happened consecutively on a Friday night bash at Julio's condo. This time round, I was determined to not be outnumbered by his crew. Therefore, at my request and Julio's consent, I brought on my Nubian brigade to light up his party afro style. You guessed it! It was a wild safari party in Julio's bourgie joint that night, thanks to my ebony squad, who turned the fiesta livid, giving the Caucus people a run for their money, making them pull out their expensive phones, to capture every epic moment.

Ah! To be young and hot is God's way of smiling at us and allowing us to live and let live. On our third date, Julio desired a quiet dinner, devoid of anyone and everyone. He did not want anyone to hog our alone time. I guess it was not easy for him to rave hard-core every waking day, like it was my norm, and parading me in front of blood-thirsty predators. I guess he had learnt the hard way that once you go black, there was no coming back from that phenomenal experience. All was going well three months into our dating spree, until Julio popped the love bubble we were aimlessly floating in, by asking me to move in with him into his house, and shack up cohabitation style.

No sooner had he demanded of me to move in with him, than I sobered up fast, as anxiety gripped at my heart without caution. In all honesty, I was scared of Julio's bold request for us to share a living space, became claustrophobic, for the reason that I was not ready for a serious commitment, and especially so with a stranger, a situation which made me feel like a little girl, beneath all the grown miss independent woman demeanour I was flaunting in public.

Why would this Euro guy Julio go and ruin a good thing? We were just supposed to date and live good, but not rush into playing house this early in the relationship. I guess my jungle fever had worn off as a result of that random proposal, which made me feel cornered, and my independence threatened. Yet, I could not say no to Julio's request right away. On the contrary, I felt I needed to be tactical long enough to dodge this proposition, while I enjoyed the perks of dating a bigwig.

Nevertheless, Julio was keen on provoking me to engage in the "move in with me" conversation on a daily basis, while declaring his undying love for me, much to my chagrin. Could this Euro dude not understand that I was only twenty something years old, and not about to lustfully dash into any situationship that would render me vulnerable? Besides, who would want to move in with a stranger right off the bat?

Consequently, I did what any other rational human being would do, and decided to let Julio down easy. But he was not about to peacefully back down, giving me ultimatums like I was some school girl. I guess my hesitation into a cohabitation was a deal breaker for Julio. Needless to say, I am convinced that the short-term symptoms of the jungle fever had clogged Julio's mind, making him irrational. In the end, and just like it quickly commenced, my Euromance came to an abrupt end.

 

 

 

 

MY AFRO-SCHENGHEN MEMOIRS: WHITE PEOPLE PROBLEMS

 

MY AFRO-SCHENGHEN MEMOIRS:  WHITE PEOPLE PROBLEMS

Sometimes I wish I had white people problems. As a matter of fact, I will take white people problems for a thousand Kenyan shillings any day. I once heard a testimony of a Caucasian female, whose Louboutin shoes were stuck in the mud and it took a miracle from God to save those designer shoes from ruin. I did not know whether to scream or cry at her vexing testimony. Before I could recover from the first testimonial, another one surfaced, and this time, from a European male, who professed that he had slept in his car for days on end, before God came through and gave him keys to a sweet mansion.

Well, at least he could afford a vehicle. Here in Africa, a car is a luxury which most of us cannot afford to purchase, and turn them into mobile homes. Wait, what? How about the sweet mansion he claimed to have been a miracle blessing from God? Exactly how did this wonder come about? God, are you secretly dishing out luxury homes, while I struggle to rent a noisy apartment, with major electric blackouts, and salty water? What kind of mystery prayers are these random people praying? For this reason my Lord, I kindly propose that You and I converge in our private quarters this evening, to have a serious conversation about my pending miracles but I digress.

As I was saying, the aforementioned powerful testaments brought to my memory some Caucasian apprentices I interned with back in the day, when I was young and hip in my twenties. You should have heard these girls gripe about their entitled grievances. Everytime they lamented about their tedious expatriate reputes, I rolled my eyes in utter displeasure, and took beer shots to forget my real problems. One Becky Sue even had the nerve to grouch about how her then rich boyfriend was busy working to fend for both of them, that he did not have time to cuddle her. I almost choked, in remembrance of my mediocre boyfriend, whose former job is not worth mentioning on this platform, for legal reasons.

Anyhow, at least Becky Sue's rich boyfriend earned a decent living, and If I was standing in her Prada shoes, I would not have the nerve to complain at all. Instead, I would have been at his beck and call, catering to him twenty four hours a day. Heck, with that kind of money Becky Sue's rich boyfriend was minting, I would have dedicated my time to sing, dance, laugh, cry, love, hate, lie, steal, cheat, cook, and clean for him, whether or not he made a request of me. On the other hand, where I stood with my then boyfriend was a sink or swim situation, whereby, it was every man for himself but God for us all. Again, I am unable to speak on our short-lived rocky relationship, for licit reasons.

So anyway, back to Becky Sue's white problems. At the time, she was petitioning God to make a way for her and her rich boyfriend to spend some quality time together. The nerve of this girlchild to be praying about typical matters, when infact she had garnered all of God's blessings. I had the mind to go all self-righteous on her, by granting her a harsh rebuke, while pointing my judgmental finger at her but I held back, for fear that the other girls would see the pettiness seeping through my pores, and inturn viciously retaliate. Needless to say, I zoned off mid-conversation during Becky Sue's rant, to reflect on my own life.

If only God would grant me one wish and allow me to suffer white people problems for one solid year. After twenty five years of living an average life, I craved for some white people problems for a change. Unlike Becky Sue's honest feelings, I needed bragging rights, to have a memoir of the good life I could have and complain about. For once in my life, I wished to cross over from the African lane, into the Caucasian path, to entreat God for; a mansion, a car, a real life Adonis, and a safe journey to the Maldives for a swell vacation, as opposed to praying for the usual food, shelter, and clothing like I always did. After being on this earth quarter of a century, this was my prayer to God, appealing for Him to grant me a prosperous future.

Dear Lord, I promise not to ask for much, if you accord me white people problems for a full year. I will not ask to go to space, because I can always visit it in my head. Besides, has anyone really been to space? Nonetheless, all I need is a solo trip to Tuscany, just to see what the fuss is all about. I equally desire a sweet ride like a Bentley, just to own one. Lord, please provide me with a richer boyfriend than Becky Sue's. Actually, scratch that wish off my prayer list and instead, make me richer than Becky Sue's rich boyfriend, as you enhance my problems to be whiter than snow. What's more, I desire to stunt my new found wealth on every living soul, and let them know that a nappy head can also make it big in this lifetime.

Additionally, could you make it rain money on me, so that I may get to constantly whine about my ninety nine money problems? You know that my go-to Sangoma does not have your kind of superpowers to flood my life with enough wealth and resources, that will transform me to become filthy rich. Lord, I promise to brag only twice a day if you accord me white people problems. But I will only flaunt my wealth to other nuveau riche like me. I will further stand at any market corner I can find, inside the open square everyday, and sorrowfully sigh at my white problems, loud enough for every mother's son to get the hint, and bitterly hate me for it. After, I will proceed to showcase my philanthropic acts, by giving away my wealth to those in dire need.

But alas, the angels tending to the Caucasian prayer lane have denied me an entry pass, with which to access the white blessings. Moreover, they did not bother to offer me an explanation as to why they were flying me back to the African prayer lane. To state the fact that I was offended by this prejudice action on their part is an understatement, for in reality I was furious at their blatant denial of me to approach the royal white side of the heavenly throne. Needless to say, the entire prayer scenario of the angels guarding racial lanes was all just my imagination playing inside my head.