I’m yet to hear of anyone being allergic to love;
Or immune to it either;
It is an innate yearning everyone craves for;
No wonder we never tire of love songs;
Even if they all tell the same story;
Why, because no amount of love is too much for the heart to carry.
Valentine’s Day is nigh and love is in the air;
Whiles some are getting creative in showing love to those dear to them;
Others are anxiously ‘expecting’ the gifts of love on the way;
As if the 24 hours is the only time to prove and taste one’s love;
And when it passes, everything goes back to the way it was.
But love is more than the gifts, candle-lit dinners, concerts and parties.
Love is what endures the pain and betrayal the other might cause you;
Love is what stays behind when all others have walked away;
Love is what forgives the wrongs committed against you and wipes the slate clean;
Love rejoices with you without concealed envy and comforts you with no malicious intentions;
Love is not measured with how much gifts you can afford to give;
But how much of your heart is surrendered to it.
It is cute to see people ‘play sweet’ with others in their bid to show affection;
But after the red day ends, don’t forget love must be portrayed as long as you have breath;
Not only to be shown to those we think deserve it but to anyone out there;
The rude, scornful, stubborn, wicked, ingrate and everyone in between;
Because Love died a shameful death so you would dwell in glory;
Love died so you would live.
So as you show love amidst laughter and excitement;
Remember to do same when the tables turn;
Love is selfless and sacrificial;
So before you proclaim love to someone;
Make sure you mean it;
Because love is more than what Valentine proposes.
It’s a cross you have to bear daily;
To lay your comfort down when the need arrives;
It’s not a feeling with appears today and evaporates tomorrow;
It’s a commitment to stick and stay through thick and thin;
Love does not give up and walk away when it gets tough;
It stands firmly and keeps on fighting.
When the Cross meets Valentine,
Who will be left standing?
#DailyPost: You’vebeenaskedtospeak at yourhighschoolalmamater–aboutthepathoflife. (Whoa). Draftthespeech.
First of all, I want to relay my gratitude to the management of this great school for the honor of having me mount this podium on an occasion such as this. I must confess, my life has been on an incredible journey since I passed through here and proceeded to pursue my life’s mission out in the world. I thank God for giving me the opportunity to have schooled in such a noble institution as Wesley Girls’ High School.
I’ve been asked to address the issue of the path of life to my younger sisters as well anyone who is counted as part of the Gey Hey family. What do I say, life is a journey. And like any other, it is unscripted, has its ups and downs as well as uncertainties. But no matter which path your life takes you, you must carry the principles on which this school stands to guide you. When I was here, I liked the school motto because it sounded nice and was longer than that of most schools which made it stand out. But it was after I left these four walls that I fully understood and appreciated its essence.
To not just merely survive the world out there but to conquer it, there’s no better recipe than to LivePure, SpeakTrue, RightWrong and FollowtheKing. Life out there isn’t as simple and black and plain as it is in here. It is more brutal and unkind to those who have resolved not to give in to compromise when it comes to moral values. But with God on your side and a resolve to uphold integrity no matter what, you will definitely prevail.
Looking back at some of the ‘unpopular’ choices I had to make since I left here, I sometimes wished I was back here where all I had to worry about was making sure to be at the dining hall or on my bunk bed before the siren chimed. Some of you may think that the motto is just one boring slogan the headmistress keeps drumming into your ears but if you intend to stand out among all the others in the world and be called out to be among the best in whatever endeavor you choose, there’s no shortcut to it.
Life is not a race about who finishes first but who finishes well. It’s not about who gets the top job first, who gets married and starts a family first or who becomes the first celebrated public figure. Thanks to the Christian morals on which the school runs, you have a greater chance on making it out there if you allow the school to pass through you instead of merely passing through the school.
Undoubtedly, some of you would have it easier than others probably because of the status of your family. Remember it is a privilege you are entitled to; so don’t abuse it when you get out there. Instead use it as a platform to do greater exploits on the foundation of integrity.
And for many of us who would have to find our own path without any privileged advantage, I’d encourage you not to give up when the hard times come knocking. Being an old girl of this great school already puts on a pedestal; don’t forget that you are a daughter of the King and hang around people who do not strive for any esteemed goal for themselves. Good company they say corrupt good morals. It would be a shame if all the training instilled in you goes to waste because you allowed others to flush them out of your system.
Wesley Girls’ High School has proven to be a good prepping ground for harnessing our God-given talents in the spirit of excellence. Out there, excellence might not necessarily be the standard but I’d urge you to keep upholding this excellent standard in everything you find yourself doing. Punctuality still seems to be a Ghanaian problem with you and I, we can be pacesetters to making the lateness canker a thing of the past.
Dear ladies, no matter where life leads you, don’t forget who you are in God. Most people turn to compromise to get the life they want to lead but whenever your moral values are put to the test, remember to LivePure, SpeakTrue, RightWrong and FollowtheKing. It is only on these principles that you’d find yourself standing at the end of the tunnel.
I wish you all the best and may we meet in high places here on earth and in eternity with our crowns of righteousness. Thank you.
It is not just civil to be nice to your neighbors; it is a necessary ‘investment’ because you never know when they would be of help. And there’s a reason why the entire world is referred to as a ‘global village’ because we want everyone to be a ‘neighbor’- someone we can keep in touch with, someone who can commune with and come to our aid when we urgently need their help.
But some people can really test you to your breaking point. They surpass your maximal tolerance level and the best you can do to save your heart from literally bursting out is to limit contact to the barest minimum. They think the fact that you respond to their greetings with a smile gives them the license to intrude into your matters just because…well, we are neighbors.
Come to think of it, is that how the concept of fencing or walling our homes arrived? What if it’s not to just keep the house ‘in’ but to keep others ‘out’? Is that why some houses have taller walls than others? To further emphasize the point to mind our own business?
I’m not a big fan of noisy places. It disrupts my whole system and gets me restless. To have neighbors who are either always shouting at each other or playing my least favorite genre of music non-stop on high volumes would be a near-perfect definition of hell on earth for me. I find myself at my very best in a calm and serene environment. My thinking capacity is heightened and my mood is set right. Any disturbance could upset my mood the whole day and render me unproductive. This reminds me of some of my ‘woeful’ days on campus; when students in my hostel block would put their stereos on full blast for hours especially during weekends. What torture!
As much as I despise noisy neighbors, I don’t think I can tolerate the nosy type any better. There’s a reason why people walk away right after responding to the ‘how are you?’ inquiry. Whatever they might be going through is personal and not for ‘neighborly’ consumption unless one clearly takes away the boundaries probably because he really needs to let out what is bothering him.
But the one or two-time invitation doesn’t grant you access to someone’s life anytime you are bored with your own life just so you can entertain yourself. Even the Bible advises us to live peaceably with all men as much as we can. God knows some people are just plain difficult to live with.
I thank God for the neighbors that I have; they are generally not noisy. So if they get a little loud once in a while, I don’t let it bother me too much.
Everyone is entitled to some moments of ‘letting out steam’ from time to time. As for them being nosy, one cannot help it. Even when you repaint your house, they want to know if an event is coming up (where I come from, most families repaint their houses when a relative dies or if there’s a marriage ceremony approaching). And they have the guts to inquire as if they have the right to know.
If all communities around the world were made up of either nosy or noisy neighbors, I think I’d settle for the nosy. Because I determine how much information goes out to them and I plan to keep my issues to myself as much as possible. But on the other hand, if the neighbors would thunder the whole place with noise but would mind their own business, it sounds like a fair settlement. I can’t seem to make up my mind.
Which one do you find more tolerable? The inquisitive or the loud neighbor? Which one is the last straw for you?
I don’t think anyone wishes to be the topic of idle chat of some strangers somewhere…no wait, scratch that. Some people do, they don’t only wish it; they actually make efforts to be just that. All they need to do is stir up some controversy and voilà! The whole world picks it up and keeps social media buzzing. Why, because that’s the ‘cheapest’ way of marketing themselves and staying ‘relevant’ in our times by trending everywhere. I’m sure one or two ‘brand’ names instantly pop up in your head when the issue of ‘celebrity gossip’ comes up. How they keep on being a matter of interest to us, I have no idea. What do I say, big ups to their publicity team. They are doing one heck of a job!
But relating to the ordinary person, I doubt one would pray to have his or her personal issue being discussed over dinner at a neighbor’s house. Life is hard enough without having to add the pressure of having to be discussed and judged by others. It is impossible not to be gossiped about, however. People love idle talk. Whether you do right or wrong, someone somewhere still deems it important to talk about it.
But not to be talked about at all kind of sounds like you do not even exist. To be deem so ‘irrelevant’ that not even a dog would bark at you whiles you pass by should get you worried. Why, are you a ghost hovering among living beings? A little ‘chatty’ attention from people shows that you are at least up to something and people are interested but not at all is a silent indication that no one really cares if you live or die.
Most people would prefer to be talked about for the right reasons. They prefer to be mentioned in conversations regarding achievement, respect, prestige, wealth, talent and other related things. Apart from some reality star celebrities who thrive on controversy, majority of people would not want their poor life choices to be talked about openly. To be on everyone’s tongue doesn’t augur well for future decisions either. You’d be too disconcerted by the various versions of your story made up by others to make a clear decision moving forward.
To be in someone’s thoughts and then on his lips must be because of your actions or inactions. I don’t want to be talked about for bad reasons; in a way that would tarnish my image or make me feel ashamed of myself. But if my achievements make people talk, then it means I am influencing someone to think positively to do something good for himself.
Not to be talked about to me means I no longer exist. Even some dead people are still remembered and talked about. So to be alive and not talked about at all is synonymous to not being relevant in your world and I find that as ‘defeating’ to your purpose as a living being.
I don’t know about you; do you prefer to be talked about all the time everywhere? Or you have a phobia for being talked about such that you want to live a ‘ghostly’ life? Kindly share your thoughts.
First of all, I think these are the most extreme phases in life one can propose having a first child. I personally find both points not ideal. The nine-month gestational period is no game neither is nurturing someone for the next two decades or perhaps more, mere child’s play. For one to be up to the task of raising a child to be a responsible adult, one has to be prepared physically, emotionally and even financially. Lacking in one aspect will create a world of hardship for both child and parent.
The eighteenth year spells the transition of a teen into a young adult. Most teens can’t wait to turn to that age as if merely attaining it is some magical requirement to grow up instantly and be prepared for adult life. The legal age to vote, drive, drink, get married seems to appeal to most teens. But most middle-aged people would advise the youth of today not to rush to become adults because it is not as ‘fun’ as they think it to be.
Recalling my 18-year old self, I don’t think I was ready to have a child. I was still a child then! Apart from my body not ready to handle the responsibility, I was not mature in any way to take care of a tiny, crying and helpless infant.
Preparing to enter the university, the whole idea of being by myself, being responsible for my choices and taking care of myself was freaking me out. I couldn’t handle stress very well; the least obstacle would put me in tears. Imagine my baby’s cries making me cry as well. Who would comfort who?
I am still wrapping my head around what it entails to be an adult and how to play my cards right so I don’t mess up. If I’m planning to bring a human being into this world, then I should ensure that I’m prepared to give him/her the best of myself and what the world has to offer. Falling short of that wouldn’t be fair to the innocent newcomer.
They say, life begins at forty. I’m pretty sure the mental picture of that expression is enjoying the fruits of your labor after having your kids and having achieved some level of stability in life. I doubt it implies now beginning the Parenting course 101.
Aside the health implications of giving birth that late, having to change diapers and deal with baby tantrums along with the temperature swings and body rashes at such an age sounds like torture. If that were to be a second, third or last, at least one has experience with the whole baby drama and so can play his/her role without much stress. But the first? It could even trigger premature menopause!
But on the other hand, one would be much more stable and more mature emotionally and financially to take care of a child. One would have gather much more experience in life in order to bring up a child the right way.
Being a mother at eighteen to me sounds like a bigger baby taking care of a cuter one; and being a mother for the first time at forty is a preliminary for still being in the ‘active parent’ status even after retirement.
However, if I were to choose, I think I’d opt for being an older parent.
What about you? Does the idea of being a young parent excite you? Having your child being referred to as your younger sibling because he/she catches up with you with time? Or you prefer to be much older before taking on such a responsibility? Please share your thoughts.
Do you love your name? Because I love mine. Sounds old a bit but not archaic (I think or hope so). Unlike most people as is customary in my society, I wasn’t named after any family relative. Some others also choose to name their kids after someone they deem honorable with the hopes that they would grow up to pick up their desirable traits.
My dad and I share a name along with some personality traits; strengths and weaknesses alike. I can’t imagine myself being called anything else. Neither can I imagine any of my friends being called by different names. As temperamentally diverse as we are, our names sort of define us perfectly. Sometimes I wonder, do we define our names by our personalities or do our names determine how we turn out to be? Could be the same dilemma with the chicken and egg issue of which existed first.
I don’t know how my name came about; whether my parents planned it after finding out about my existence or the name spontaneously popped in their heads when I arrived but I’m grateful for the name regardless. I took a minute to Google the meaning of my name and I discovered something interesting. It actually has a French origin, which means “MayJehovahadd;” according to sheknows.com. It was further confirmed by babynamewizard.com that Josephine means “Godwilladd/increase.” I also read a couple of interesting definitions posted by various people on UrbanDictionary.com. I think I fell in love with my name…all over again. 😘
It’s refreshing to know my name is synonymous to increase and fruitfulness. I am also challenged to fulfill what my name entails in everything I come into contact with, be it a project or relationship (personal and professional). Let me know if you need a little Josephine in your life, ayt? :)
I remember wishing I was given a ‘cool’ name back in primary like some of my colleagues (which I can’t even remember one now) because it made them look suited for the generation. But not being able to recall those names shows how irrelevant that is to me now. Now, one can’t help but be bemused what was going through the heads of some parents to name their kids the way they do these days. Some kids grow up to be as complicated as their names and though you can’t blame a name for how its bearer turned out, you can’t help but feel the parent did the child a great disservice in the first place.
I’m proud of my name and I hope you are of yours too. I think it brings out the best and worst in me in an imperfectly perfect way. It is not just a proper noun I write down or pronounce to introduce myself to others. It is my identity. I believe that’s how God sees me and expects me to be known by.
What does your name mean and how does it challenge you? Do you wish you were called by another name and why do you think so? Have you ever met someone who you think doesn’t wear his/her name right and should have been name differently? Please tell me; I’m dying to know!
Most makeup artists display the ‘before and after’ photos of their clients on various social media platforms to attest to their quality services and how they can make any woman (no matter how ordinary) look as royal as she should be on her big day. It is amazing how a little touchup could give such ‘wow’ effects. The same thing could be said of hair products. They promise lasting soft, silky and lustrous hair but every consumer knows better than to take their ‘lasting’ assurance literally. Despite their short-lived guarantee, we don’t mind obtaining them over and over again because of the satisfactory results they deliver.
For those striving for some stability in this new year after trying almost everything and still feeling a vacuum within: the perfect job, the almost-perfect partner, ideal neighborhood, cool friends; maybe you are out of touch of the connection that really matters. Living in a world where change is constant in almost every sphere of life to the extent where every experience becomes a memory at one point, there is the need to have One Person to be in our corner through it all.
Unlike cosmetic products which wear off after some time, God sticks to His promise of being available in every sense of the word no matter the season. Before, during and after every moment in life, His grace and mercy abounds; He remains faithful even when our faith wavers, and in our weakness His strength is perfected. He is the friend who sticks closer than a brother.
In an era where stability is becoming a word we strive for, having a relationship with God which assures us of moving from glory to glory as our before and after must be a priority. And like every relationship, it requires effort, commitment and sacrifice.
God already displayed his sacrificial love by offering His Son to die in our place so we might live and enjoy eternity with Him. He has shown His commitment by staying true to His promises to all who diligently seek Him. Talk of effort, He is constantly searching for people who would allow Him to turn their lives of streams of testimonies.
Will you do your part and enjoy His goodness? With God, your before-and-after pictures don’t need a retouch. He perfects and refines you regardless of the storms and scars of life. What offer on earth could be better than this?
Each phase of life has its owns perks; and we all have memories of both-and may influence which one we would have wished to enjoy a little bit longer.
Let me start with childhood. What’s not to love being a kid? Well, it kind of depends on how easy or hard life was with everyone during that stage. Mine wasn’t all fun but I do have some fond memories. One of the fun parts of being a kid is getting what you ask without having to work so hard for it (unless you count the fake high-pitched wails just to get your point across).
Getting a new backpack, stationery, shoes, braids/haircut every new term would be the average kid’s school delight. Snacks, ice cream, toys whenever one had the craving. However the parent would cough up the money for his wants is not his headache. Being a kid had its own challenges-having to endure subjects you have no love for, preparing for tests, praying the teacher doesn’t call you out to answer questions especially when you have no idea what he was talking about the whole time, the whips you’d suffer on your backside because your name was on the class talkative list, I’m sure you have your own memories.
But skip forward to being an adult, those ‘hard times’ are just preliminaries to what living an adult life entails. In addition to school and/or work troubles, the burden of being responsible for yourself could be overwhelming. But it does have its fulfilling moments as well. Seeing through a set goal to the end makes you feel matured to handle things by yourself. You get to make your own decisions firsthand with counsel from parents if need be unlike childhood when the decisions are made for you and then you’re merely informed (not because they need your approval but just so you psyche yourself up to it).
Being a kid is fun but even the happiest one wants to grow up one day. It looks fascinating to be an adult and in charge of one’s affairs and I can remember myself wishing to grow up faster so I could get there. But you find out once you get in the ‘pool’, you realize it is not fun as you imagined it. You only begin to enjoy it when you’ve found a firm ground to hold you down despite the pool’s depth. And it could take years of experience and sometimes a whole lifetime to master that.
Some adults may wish they could be someone’s responsibility again; that someone could make the decisions for them considering the bad ones they made themselves. But the time is past and gone.
Considering that one’s adulthood is fairly longer than his childhood, I think I’ll go for being an adult. Even adulthood has its phases: young adulthood and then the ‘older’ generation. I get to choose out of the lot and be responsible for my choices. I get to influence the world with what I’ve got. I face the storms of life with my childlike faith and come out winning. I get to know people for their true colors but still do my possible best to live peaceably with all I come across. I get to be the true ME that I was created to be. I thank God for His surpassing wisdom for designing our lifespan to be the way it is. We get to live the best of both worlds and we learn from both.
What about you? Forever young or grownup? Forever cute face or gray haired? Kindly share!
I had the oddest job interview. It was the more like an audition. And it is even more unusual when you have no idea that you’re being auditioned for the role.
Let me narrate how it all went down.
I was barely getting by with the job I had; not enough pay but better than nothing. Working conditions less than ideal but manageable. But I hit rock bottom when the wind of economic crisis hit so hard that I was laid off. Getting back into the job hunt wasn’t easy. It was either I was underqualified or way overqualified for a job. And waiting for replies to applications was torturous. Just when I was giving up on it all, I received a call asking me to come over for an interview. God always turns up at one’s greatest point in need, doesn’t He?
As if all the forces from the village had been deployed to torment me, I couldn’t get a cab to the venue. Arriving late to an interview was a big minus; one I couldn’t afford to have even before having the interview. Although I knew I would end up exhausted and sweaty, I decided to walk to the next bus stop and try my luck. Halfway to the bus stop, I remembered to buy myself a pack of Mentos to help me not feast on my poor nails when waiting for the interview. I walked to the counter to find the attendant scolding a lad about money.
“It is too early for me to entertain tricks like this, young man. Just pay for the candy in your mouth!”
“What is going on here?”
“He took the candy and began eating it before realizing he didn’t bring his wallet with him. It was deliberate…trying to tempt me to sin this early morning…” “How much is it?”
“Fifty pesewas and he picked up these too.”
“And how much will all of it cost?”
“Three Ghana cedis, fifty pesewas.” “Fine; I’ll pay for it. Come for your stuff.” “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said with a smile. He walked out. I took my change from the attendant who continued to grumble about the boy.
Fortunately, I got a cab immediately I stepped out of the mart. I decided to go over the information I had gathered about the company from my research on the way. As expected, traffic was tight and I began to wonder if I’d make it in time. The cab driver suggested another route which would be more convenient. I gave him the go-ahead. But it seemed he wasn’t the only driver thinking so since the traffic on that route was as bad as the one we had dodged.
When I got to the venue, it was about seven minutes to the appointed time. It wasn’t enough for me to prep up but it was better than a minute late. I introduced myself to the secretary who offered me a seat. My nails found their way into my mouth when anxiety began to sweep over me. As I was going over my notes one more time, someone passed by and said hi and I responded without paying much attention to whoever he was.
I was called inside and a panel of three were seated. I was applying for the position of the CEO’s personal assistant and apparently it was a big deal considering the panelists. The CEO was unavailable at the moment. It went well and they seemed impressed with me. I was to report at seven to meet the CEO himself.
I was beside myself with excitement. In less than 24 hours, I’d officially be off the job-hunting market. I turned and tossed in my bed for most parts of the night.
I arrived at the premises at 6:45; talk about creating first good impression! The HRM who was part of the panelists welcomed me with a smile and gave me a rundown on what I was supposed to be doing whiles waiting for the boss to arrive. Did that mean I was hired?
I must say it felt good to be walking in the hallway in squeaking heels as if I owned the place. After going on two rounds and familiarizing myself with some faces, I noticed a well-dressed elderly man seated outside the boss’ office. I approached and politely asked him if I could be of assistance. He had an appointment with the boss at eight and he was about twenty minutes early. I assured him he’d be in by the appointed time and asked if he was comfortable. He replied in the affirmative and I continued with my tasks. I noticed him scribbling something in a file in hand from time to time. He must have a lot to discuss with the boss, I thought.
Eight o’clock passed and the boss was still not in. And since I had no idea who he was and why he was running late, I couldn’t think of cover up story for his absence. I apologized on his behalf and asked if he’d like to wait or leave and come some hours later. He preferred waiting. I sat down and immediately there was a mail from the Head of Operations. I attended to it immediately. When I was done, I was tempted to take out my phone and go snooping on social media but something pricked me not to. The man was still waiting…patiently. I called HRM’s office to ask for what to do.
Upon her advice, I got up and went to him, calmly advising him to go if he had other business to attend to and leave a message behind. He insisted on waiting. Ah well, I couldn’t force him to leave, could I?
About an hour later, the HRM called me to her office. When I returned, the man was nowhere to be found. Maybe he got tired of waiting. I felt sorry for him. Before my butt could touch my chair, the phone rang. The boss wanted me in his office. When did he come? Hope he wouldn’t be angry at me for not being at post when he arrived.
I knocked and entered and lo and behold, the man claiming to see the boss was seated in the boss’ chair. He stared at me coolly which got me more puzzled.
“Um…sir, that is my boss’ seat.”
“I think it would be more appropriate if you sat in this other chair. I don’t think he’d appreciate someone…” He took the office phone and made a phone call for someone to come see him. What was going on?
The HR manager walked in.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning. Why don’t you fill me in on how this lady fared at the interview yesterday?”
“She was impressive. She seemed eager to work and was looking for a challenging environment, one I’m sure we’re more than capable of providing her with. And today, she has proved to be smart and efficient.” He nodded.
She turned to me with a smile and said, “Miss Coleman, meet our CEO, Mr. Gyan.” I couldn’t hide my shock. He smiled at my reaction.
“I was assessing you all this while and I must say, I like I saw out there. You may go back to your office. I’ll direct her to you when I’m done talking with her.” “Yes boss,” the HRM said and walked out. He offered me a seat and I sat. I suddenly felt anxious again; all traces of belongingness I had felt all went poof!
He told me how he liked his things done and what he expected of me if I was planning on keeping the job. The door opened without a knock and a young boy entered.
He smiled at me and greeted. I replied with a smile in return. He kept smiling and I was wondering why. Had we met somewhere or did he just find me charming? Mr. Gyan asked me to excuse them. A few minutes later, I was called back in and the boy was still smiling and so was the boss. Okay, this was getting creepy.
“Do you remember seeing this boy recently?” I glanced at the boy.
“Um…I’m not sure. Have we met?” He nodded keenly.
“At the store yesterday.” I gasped. The boy with no wallet.
“He told me what happened yesterday and he just informed me you were the Good Samaritan who saved him from some serious scolding.”
I was lost for words.
“Thank you,” the boy said.
“I saw you here yesterday and I greeted but you seemed preoccupied with something.” I chuckled. “Preparing for my interview, I guess.”
“For what you did for my son, I’ll reward with not just the job but with handsome allowances in advance.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Keep on doing good; you may never know who will end up being in your debt. Go to your post.”
“Yes, sir.” With a grateful smile at the boy who still wore a grin, I left the office.
With a simple gesture of kindness, I secured myself a well-paying job with amazing fringe benefits. A little goodness here, a little more diligence there, go a long way to open doors in the future.
As you go about your day, take a little time to show someone a favor even if it won’t bring any obvious benefit to you. You’ll definitely reap your reward in due time especially when you need it. And whatever you find yourself doing, whether for yourself or for someone else, do it wholeheartedly; you may never know who might be watching… a possible boss playing undercover client.
Every society is segregated. We all have vicinities in our cities and towns we consider the ‘dream place to live’ and the others we see as ‘notoriously not advisable.’ People from each type are expected to carry themselves about in a certain way; the former in an enviable civil way and the latter, well, they announce themselves from a good mile away.
First of all, I think what one describes as a good or bad neighborhood is subjective. The elites, middle and upper class people would prefer a quiet, spacious and clean neighborhood safe for family life. Fenced or gated, where everyone minded their own business and would come out to offer help for the communal good. Can you picture it?
Another group of people would prefer a more ‘open community’ where the doors of one’s home was open to all. Where kids were everyone’s responsibility and one’s headache was everyone’s business. Is that your type?
And I’m pretty sure the mental picture of a ‘bad’ neighborhood would not differ much regardless of one’s cultural background. A place reeking of bad influence everywhere. Profane language being spewed every second, lying and stealing being the most basic of vices practiced. Who would wish to live in such a horrid place? Most people find themselves there because of unfortunate circumstances and not because they chose it over better options.
As much as people pride themselves in their individual homes, the neighborhood also counts as well. One is accorded some respect depending on where he resides (or claims to be). In my home country, some of the places which stand out to would be East Legon, Cantonments, Ahodwo and some others (don’t know many of them). Some even go to the extent of lying about their residential address just to create an impression. Who cares if you live in a hut if it’s near a palace?
For me, I’d prefer to be in a good neighborhood even if my home is not up to the standard of the adjacent houses. As long as it ensures that I am safe from dangerous activities, I’m good. Having a house being described as the ‘best’ in a bad neighborhood is only an invitation to burglars to become regular guests to say the least. No one cares if you live in a skyscraper if it surrounded by brothels.
Some people like to stand out and be held in esteem by people they consider ‘beneath’ them. So they hang around just not to help them up but to lord it over them as being better. When it comes to choosing neighborhoods, it might be rare but people might surprise you with their values.
What about you? Do you prefer to be living in the ‘best’ house everyone points to in the midst of a bad neighborhood or the ‘humble pie’ in the midst of a good neighborhood, the one you cannot confidently point to and call it yours? Stand out among the worst or get lost among the best? Let me know what you think!